By Michael Kelman Portney

Ah, Thanksgiving in Portland. A city known for its artisanal donuts, ethically sourced coffee, and a deep commitment to local everything has, naturally, redefined the quintessential American holiday. While the rest of the country wrestles frozen turkeys into ovens and debates the proper ratio of marshmallows to sweet potatoes, Portlanders are busy curating their Thanksgiving menus like it's an indie food festival.

The table, of course, is reclaimed wood sourced from a barn demolished in 1892. The centerpiece isn't a turkey—it’s a carefully arranged kombucha scoby terrarium, because why settle for decorative gourds when you can remind everyone of your gut health journey?

The Menu: A Culinary Masterpiece of Absurdity

Kale and Quinoa Stuffing

Say goodbye to bread cubes soaked in butter and hello to a medley of kale, quinoa, and "ancient grains you’ve never heard of." Tossed with heirloom sage grown on a community rooftop garden, it’s baked in a casserole dish that’s been handed down for at least three Burning Man cycles.

Free-Range Tofurky with CBD-Infused Gravy

The centerpiece of the meal is, naturally, plant-based. This isn’t your grocery store tofurky—this is a handcrafted, mushroom-forward "turkey alternative" shaped by a local sculptor. The gravy? Infused with CBD, because your Uncle Trevorx’s political rant is easier to handle when you're preemptively calm.

Artisanal Cranberry Reduction

Ocean Spray jelly? Not in Portland. This “sauce” was cooked down for hours over a fire fueled by sustainably harvested pine. Garnished with sprigs of lavender and microgreens, it’s served in mason jars that double as take-home gifts for your guests.

Foraged Mushroom Pie

Who needs pumpkin pie when you have a dessert featuring mushrooms picked from the Columbia River Gorge? Sweetened with agave nectar and a touch of artisanal molasses, the filling rests in a gluten-free, almond-flour crust. Pairs well with a piping hot mug of mushroom coffee.

Charcuterie Board, But Make It Vegan

Arrive early, and you’ll be greeted with a charcuterie board where the “meat” is jackfruit jerky and the “cheese” is an array of cashew-based spreads. The highlight? A truffle-infused beet pâté that tastes vaguely of dirt but is absolutely divine if you tell yourself it’s “earthy.”

The Drinks: A Liquid Thanksgiving Parade

The drink menu is where Portland shines brightest. There’s a fermented juniper berry cocktail called “The Professor,” a cider brewed from windfall apples, and a turmeric-spiked golden milk latte served as a digestif. Don’t forget the kombucha flight, featuring seasonal flavors like “Cranberry Sage” and “Pumpkin Spice with a Twist of Lime.”

The Conversation: As Organic as the Meal

The meal wouldn’t be complete without Portland-flavored dinner conversation. Topics of discussion include:

The ethics of farming sweet potatoes.

A heated debate on whether Black Friday should be renamed Green Friday to promote eco-consciousness.

Aunt Cheryl’s announcement that she’s polyamorous, and starting a zero-waste Thanksgiving catering business.

Halfway through the evening, someone will inevitably propose a ceremonial gratitude circle. Instead of the usual “I’m thankful for my family,” Portlanders might say things like:

“I’m grateful for the barista who introduced me to oat milk.”

“I’m thankful for my chickens—Eggatha Christie and Yolko Ono—for teaching me patience.”

The Aftermath: Compost Everything

When the meal is over, the leftovers are carefully divided into glass containers brought by each guest (no single-use plastics here). Compost bins overflow with kale stems, and someone has already started a DIY project with the leftover kombucha bottles.

As you leave the party, carrying a jar of lavender cranberry sauce and a bag of mushroom jerky, you can’t help but smile. This wasn’t just a Thanksgiving meal—it was a statement, a lifestyle, a Very Portland Thanksgiving. And isn’t that what the holiday is all about?