For the past month, the US has been moving to the rhythm of the holiday season, with its hot apple cider, shrink-wrapped turkeys and inflatable polar bears. This nearly uninterrupted period of family gatherings – combining Jewish festivities (Hanukkah), Christian ones (Christmas) and African American celebrations (Kwanzaa) – kicked off on November 26 with the traditional Thanksgiving meal, an occasion to express gratitude for life’s blessings. The origins of this federal holiday date back to 1621, when British colonists gathered their first harvest.

Originally from Paris, I recently relocated to New York, where I was invited to celebrate my first turkey day at Ashley’s – my husband’s former high school pen pal who had just moved to Connecticut, two hours North of Manhattan. A self-proclaimed Democrat, with an “I voted” pin fixed to her collar starting on the first day of the municipal elections (the early voting period started in October, two weeks before the official election day), this formidable businesswoman – who prefers driving stick-shift, a quirky choice in a country devoted to automatic vehicles – is also a discerning single woman. She is fiercely attached to her large, shaggy doodle with whom few men seem able to compete.

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