As visiting family for Thanksgiving becomes a implausibility for many students, Freindsgivings have become a beautiful alternative. Here’s how to plan your own.
(Design by Ella Richards | The Daily Utah Chronicle)
The holiday season is just around the corner. Outside, the leaves fall in golden hues: russet, ochre and cinnamon. As Thanksgiving arrives, the holiday tells us to spend our time with loved ones. Yet for many students, the university calendar offers too brief a break, especially with finals just around the corner. Visiting home and family almost seems impossible, with rising tuition and airfare costs stretching student budgets thin. However, even if a trip home isn’t feasible, you don’t have to spend the long weekend alone. With a little planning and a lot of heart, you can recreate that sense of connection and care by hosting a Friendsgiving.
Setting the Scene
Friendsgiving is deeply rooted in closeness. Not just physical closeness, as people gather around a table, but also emotional intimacy. It brings people together in a meaningful way, closing the gaps between them through shared food, stories and the warmth of connection, even when they aren’t bound by traditional ties like family.
Gather what you have. A table can be anything: a coffee table or a collection of desks pushed together. Even the floor with cushions is enough. Lay down a tablecloth, or a blanket.
Next, is light. Friendsgiving thrives on light. String fairy lights if you have them but don’t underestimate the charm of candles, even those fake ones from Dollar Tree. Let the warm glow turn faces soft and the shadows pool like watercolor on a canvas. Your table doesn’t have to look perfect; it only has to feel full.
The Feast
There is no script here, but there is a rhythm. The food of Friendsgiving is a collection of different hands and tastes coming together. You can assign dishes in advance, or go potluck-style, each friend arriving with a plate that tells their own story.
Somewhere on the table, there should be something warm and slow. A turkey is welcome, but not required. Perhaps instead, a roast chicken or some kind of hearty lasagna. Let a friend bring stuffing and make sure to leave room for mashed potatoes.
Then, there are the small things that make a table put together: a cranberry sauce, a plate of roasted vegetables, a salad for contrast. Bread is essential, of course, loaded with margarine or butter.
Dessert is where improvisation shines. A pie, of course, but what kind? Pecan, rich with brown sugar? Pumpkin, spiced like autumn? Or maybe a crumble, full of apples or pears, topped with whipped cream or vanilla ice cream that melts too fast. But you don’t have to go the traditional route. Dessert can be anything you like.
The Heart of Friendsgiving
Friendsgiving is flexible. You don’t have to follow tradition. Here, you carve out space for your chosen family and quiet joys. It takes the idea of gratitude and lays it bare. We are grateful for each other, for this messy, imperfect constellation of people who orbit our lives.
Eating together is oddly intimate, especially with friends. Passing plates and pouring drinks and laughing with your stomachs full. There’s a humility, too, in the pie crusts that crumble too much, the stuffing that arrives a little late, the chairs that don’t quite fit. Perfection is beside the point. After all, who needs to be perfect when surrounded by close friends?
How to Begin
Start with a group text. Start with a question: “What are you doing next Friday?” The idea may catch like fire among dry leaves. Some will offer to bring apple cider; others, napkins or pie. And when the day comes, when the table is full and the night stretches out before you, feel the home that you were able to create in the space of a traditional one.
Later, as the plates sit empty and the sun has set, you might feel it: this warmth that sits in the center of things, that spreads outward and lingers like the glow of a fire. Friendsgiving is a meal in a home you make with others, in the colors of amber and cinnamon, in the warmth of being with friends.
And when the last friend leaves, scarf bundled against the cold, you will carry it with you — a proximity, a fullness, a little like love and a little like autumn itself.
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About the Contributors
Isra Habib is a second year student at the University of Utah, majoring in film and media arts with a minor in English. She joined the Chronicle because she enjoys discussing different media topics and wants to improve her writing. When not stressing over deadlines, Isra can usually be found rewatching her favorite movies, spending time with family and friends or traveling.
(she/her) Ella is excited to be studying graphic design and marketing at the University of Utah. Growing up in the Salt Lake Valley, she developed a deep appreciation for the outdoors. Whether it’s backpacking, biking or playing card games in the park, Ella believes there’s nothing better than being outside in the sun. She is grateful to be working and designing with like-minded creatives here at the Chronicle.
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