Thanksgiving is here and it’s not anything like it was when I was very young. No, we didn’t dine with the Pilgrims and Indians; that was a few years before my time. But when family and friends were invited for the holiday meal, no thought was ever given to any of the guests’ personal diet preferences or food allergies.

My mother offered to avoid preparing pork if people with religious diet restrictions would attend but we didn’t know anyone like that so the point was moot. Everyone ate from the same table and no one asked if this dish had salt or if that dish contained animal parts rich people generally won’t eat. It usually did.

If you are in your 30s you probably haven’t noticed but food has changed, especially the food at successful new restaurants: the ones full of young people. Where did these young people get their eating habits? Were they looking for something new? Didn’t they like the food they were served at home?

What happened to pizza? It used to have too much of everything bad for you except sugar but you could easily compensate for that with large quantities of soda. It was a coma-inducing meal of satisfaction. Did someone purposefully remove the pleasure from pizza or did it just accidentally disappear when the fat, salt, gluten and carbohydrates were exorcised from the mix?

Judging by a trendy pizza I recently experienced, we’ll add meat and dairy to that list of missing ingredients. That leaves us with a pan, some seasoning and typically a beautiful wood-fired brick oven. Mmmm, hot seasonings on a beautiful pan and maybe some broccoli. It’s certainly not the Chicago-style, artery-clogging, heart-attacking pizza pie we used to love so much.

Even food terminology has changed. Sure, there were foreign terms like spaghetti and chardonnay, but with enough repetition they became part of the English language. Now we have the omakase meal, kombucha, vegan fast casual, tofu and soy milk. I can hardly keep up with the changes and new introductions.

I must note here that “soy milk” is a particularly loathsome name, as the soy bean is not a mammal and does not produce milk. I was never a big fan of milk in the first place. If “soy squeezings” were renamed to make them more marketable, they missed the mark with me on that account.

Looking back, food also changed for my parents. My mother, a fabulous cook from the Polish Peasant Culinary Old School, announced one day before dinner that we were having something new and it was called “salad.” This was in the late 1950s and up to that point we never had salad. Turns out the ancient Greeks and Romans ate mixed greens with dressing but word never got to my ancestors in the Polish countryside largely because anything fresh from the garden went directly to the feudal lords and all the peasants were left with were second-rate potatoes, wooden sticks and the parts you normally throw away when butchering livestock. Of course there was alcohol; it’s good elitist policy to have plenty of cheap alcohol available for the peasants.

Judging by our traditional Polish meals, anything that could be overwintered without spoiling was part of peasant cuisine. Root vegetables, pickled fish, sauerkraut, processed meats, cheeses hidden from the nobility and stale bread were all they would have had for Thanksgiving but they did not have the holiday, until they came to America: the land of meat and TV dinners.

In America, they embraced Thanksgiving. To showcase their newfound opulence they brought Jell-O with suspended tropical fruit to the table and they used hydrogenated oils to fry foods. They put sugar in every dish for holidays and regular meals. This was the Promised Land indeed: the land of far greater life expectancy even when consuming traditional Thanksgiving foods with all the extra additives.

So this year we had to have two turkeys, one expensive, free-range, organic, non-engineered foul for those who prefer not to partake of the once frozen, probably poison-laden but cheap second bird. I know it’s missing the point to serve both but we like to please all our diverse guests.

If we are ever invited to Mr. and Mrs. Vegan’s home for Thanksgiving, will they cater to their guests’ preferences? I’m just wondering where this is all headed.

Thanks for and please pass the Tofurky. I mean please, I’ll pass on the Tofurky, thanks.