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For those newbys who are headed to St. Barths for their first Thanksgiving trip, here is a six year old trip report from Travel & Leisure that may be

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Tday in St. Barths

For those newbys who are headed to St. Barths for their first Thanksgiving trip, here is a six year old trip report from Travel & Leisure that may be an indication on what awaits.

From November, 1997

Giving Thanks in St. Bart's

Slip on a swimsuit and pass the turkey. Michael Gross indulges in a Thanksgiving on St. Bart's
By Michael Gross

Barbara says as she rises at 7 a.m. I pull a pillow over my head, but the scent of jasmine whispers me awake. It is Thanksgiving morning on St. Bart's. The holiday has always been my favorite, mostly for culinary reasons. After my family dispersed from New York to three corners of the country, my wife and I began celebrating with friends. Last year, though, that didn't work out: two weeks before the big day, we had no plans. "Join us," my friend Gerry joked one night as we bemoaned our soon-to-be feastless state. "We have reservations at Maya's for a full turkey dinner." I've long loved the St. Bart's restaurant run by Maya Gurley, a chef from Guadeloupe, and her husband, Randy, who grew up in Newport and Nantucket and knows a thing or two about tradition. When Maya went north two decades ago to meet Randy's parents, she found she loved Thanksgiving, and brought back recipes. But could I face a Thanksgiving without leftovers? No way, I thought. Then I considered . . . how good it would be to replace them with grilled langoustes, leisurely swims, and hikes across rocky landscapes. So instead of making turkey, we made reservations.

ONCE, ST. BART'S WAS SOMETHING OF A SECRET. An eight-mile-square windswept island with a craggy coastline rising to a mountainous interior, it was inhabited by Carib Indians when Columbus sailed by in 1493 and named it for his brother Bartholomeo. About 150 years later, the first Frenchmen arrived. Tourists began to take notice after the end of World War II, once adventurer R
 
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Great article. I remember reading it when it was originally published. Fortunately for me, my Thanksgiving is nothing like the article.

I have done Thanksgiving on SBH Six Ways From Sunday, and Maya's is The Last Place that I would want to be. I've had dinners prepared by caterers and brought home (anyone remember Taste Unlimited?), catered (let's talk about Wendy and sweetpotato pie with little marsmallows melted on top), in restaurants that claimed to 'not get it' but did (Aux Trois Gourmands), in restaurants that claimed to 'get it' but didn't (Le Patio), cooked a traditional dinner in a villa (using an oven with a non-functioning temperature control), and enjoyed dinner at a fabulous restaurant in a seafront hotel (Isle de France).

I've spent many years (I think 18, but the recollections are fuzzy - could be more) celebrating my Thanksgivings on SBH. I used to insist on having a Turkey Dinner on T-day. I eventually progressed into insisting on having an option of having Turkey as a dinner on T-day. I'm at the point now that I don't care - I'm planning to have dinner at a favorite restaurant for T-day, and if they happen to have a Thanksgiving menu then that's great, but I'm more interested in the regular menu.
 
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Any pizza from the hideway would work for me, no matter the day of the year, with or without paon.
 
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If there's any group that doesn't "get" Thanksgiving, it's the Brits, as Andy has just demonstrated. That said, I'd rather be at the Hideway on the day after Thanksgiving than up here in Connecticut preparing turkey-carcass soup. I've just finished a novel so if my agent works REALLY fast, maybe I can make that happen. I'm keeping the stock pot handy, though, just in case reality continues its ugly course.
 
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If title of new novel is "Turkey Soup For The Barthian Soul" cannot wait to pick up a copy?
 
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I think that would more along the line of Kara and Bob's book. Mine involves these black guys, see, who, receiving no respect as African-Americans, decide to invade Greenwich, claim to be the descendants of a long-thought-to-be-extinct tribe, the Siwanoys, and seize our town's favorite beach in order to build a casino. All hell breaks loose. Working title, naturally, is "Greenwichi Mean Time".
 
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Us Brits love Thanksgiving, we love any reason for a good drink.
I did a turkey special one year, and all the regular US customers that night told me they were at the Hideaway to get away from turkey dinners. Thank god the locals ate it. "Oooh c'est bon, la dinde!"
 
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maybe Im just too much of a traditionalist for my own good....but the one time I spent TDay in SBH...it didnt do much for me......TDay for me just isnt TDay without snow on the ground... football on TV....a roaring fire....roasted chestnuts....an amazing turkey dinner with family... finished off with a warm cognac or MBolo rhum and homemade pie....and finally, a big ol cuban cigar, with a nice vintage port, in my recliner, to end the day.....but as Sly Stone once said, "different strokes for different folks".....
 
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or as the saying went pre-sly, " 'everyone to their own taste,' said the old lady who kissed the cow."

nothing makes me feel more grateful on thanksgiving day than the feel of wheels up on the 6 am departure to sbh!
 
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Well Mike's talking about Thanksgiving spent in the Colorado Rockies - you're fleeing Dallas. I completely agree with the sentiments of your bovine-smacking old lady but I'll still point out what General Phil Sheridan said, long ago: "If I owned Texas and Hell, I'd rent out Texas and live in Hell". Of course, Little Phil was a Yankee, which no doubt explains his miffed attitude. Have a blessed Thanksgiving wherever you spend it.
 
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