Words By Christine VanDyk
Coquina soup is made from tiny, pastel-colored clams that wash up along the shore, leaving behind pencil-sized holes in the sand. Purple and periwinkle or pink and salmon, the shells are best gathered in plastic colanders hurriedly purchased from Dollar Tree on the way to the beach and best sifted vigorously by child-sized hands to remove any grit.
Wash the shells. Boil them in salted water. Then wait.
The coquina shells will eventually rise to the top to be skimmed off, leaving behind a briny, oyster-like meat that forms the broth of the chowder. Toss in some onions, some celery, and whatever veggies you have on hand, and you end up with one of the oldest recorded meals in the Sunshine State. It’s time intensive. It’s old school. And it’s something only a handful of weathered Florida “crackers” (old-school Floridians) still know how to do. Yet, along with gopher tortoise, alligator, and mullet, coquina soup was likely front and center on the menu at the first Thanksgiving celebration held in North America.
Forget what you’ve heard. There was no cranberry sauce, no mashed potatoes, and no pilgrims. In fact, the first Thanksgiving took place in September 1565, a half-century before there was even a buckle-shoed puritan in sight. It turns out that, before there were Englishmen in Massachusetts, there were Spaniards in Florida, and they were serving dinner.
The infamous Spanish mariner Pedro Menéndez de Avilés made landfall in Florida on Aug. 28, 1565, and 11 days later, he hosted nearly 800 settlers for a Thanksgiving Mass. They were there to celebrate a hard Atlantic crossing, which ended with the founding of the town of St. Augustine, Florida. That’s important because there were numerous gatherings of gratitude with Indigenous peoples but not many that were hosted in places with such staying power as St. Augustine. This was the first group to put down permanent roots that would develop into a continuously occupied European city—roots that still exist today.
The first Thanksgiving took place on the grounds of what is now one of the Ancient City’s cheesiest tourist attractions, the Fountain of Youth. Think of it as an entire “theme park” built around the concept that, if you drank the magic water, you’d live forever without crow’s-feet. Clergy, seamen, and pioneers joined about 200 citizens of the Timucua Tribe, who lined the shore with banners spread and trumpets blasting. There was an artillery salute, the singing of hymns, and, much to the disappointment of restless children, a church service.
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When the preachin’ was done, the crowd gathered for lunch and a menu of what was, essentially, leftovers. Beans, wine, salted pork, and anything else that remained from the Spanish voyage made it to the table. Alongside those humble ingredients, the Timucua added their own locally sourced flavors: venison, maize, squash, and fish. And let’s not forget the oysters. While not as widely accepted in the heartland, oyster dressing is still the last tribute my Floridian family has to this historical event and is the reason I always hated my Mum Mum’s stuffing.
Why do little children dress up every year in pilgrim costumes made from brown paper grocery bags? Why does little Bobby’s third grade class reenact the meal near “Plimoth Plantation” and not the one in “La Florida”? It’s simple: To the victor go the spoils and, it would seem, the history. When British forces ousted Spain and France from the New World in the 18th and 19th centuries, the British observance became the official narrative. Over time, the story grew and became a national practice. Knowledge of those crazy Spaniards who once lived among the palm grass and heat of Florida was all but obliterated, and American history began to be told with the arrival of the Mayflower.
So, this Thanksgiving, when you’re carving up the turkey and scooping up the sweet potato casserole, take a moment to consider that you may not have the story completely right.
At North America’s first Thanksgiving, there were Timucua, not Wampanoag; Spanish, not English; and Catholics, not Protestants. Instead of pulling on the wishbone of a giant bird, folks were likely scooping out the meat of a gopher tortoise and fighting over who got the last bowl of coquina chowder.
GLOSSARY SIDEBAR:
Coquina – Coquina refers to a tiny clam (often no larger than your thumbnail) that burrows into the wet sand at the tide line, leaving behind telltale pencil-sized holes that mark their presence.
Commonly found along Florida’s sandy shores, coquinas come in a variety of colors like purple, pink, periwinkle, and salmon. The name “coquina” comes from the Spanish word for “little shell,” and it describes not only the clam itself, but also a type of shell-studded sedimentary rock formed from their crushed remains.
Crackers – The term “crackers” is often used to describe a small group of longtime Floridians who still hold and pass down traditional, often forgotten knowledge, like how to make coquina soup. Historically, it referred to the early European-American settlers of Florida, and possibly originated from the cracking sound of whips used to drive cattle across the open ranges. Over time, “cracker” evolved into a cultural label for self-reliant, rural Floridians closely connected to the land and Florida’s heritage.
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