Yes, I know. I’ve already written my yearly tribute to Thanksgiving. To families getting together, to memories of celebrations past and those that have gone before us. To reflections of the joys, perhaps and sorrows too, of the past year. And of that for which we are truly grateful. But I did miss a key point, though, that I’d like to correct. This holiday, like no other, is a celebration of food. And to a lesser extent, drink. And now that I’m retired and don’t have to worry about Thanksgiving football games and holiday parades, so that I can focus on cooking and eating, the true joy and gratitude of Thanksgiving is upon me.
I have mentioned in the past some of the events that have colored Thanksgiving. The year the turkey slipped from its foil stirrups and slid across the kitchen floor. The famous “creamed onion” affair of 1991/92. But the key to a truly successful Thanksgiving is in the menu planning, and in the preparation of traditional foods that reflect our history and culture.
For example, some years ago – in fact, the Princess was in middle school and in her, what I call, “historic” period. We’d travelled to Gettysburg to see the famous battlefields – to scale Cemetery Ridge, the Peach Orchard (which didn’t produce much in 1863), and Little Round Top. We toured the Eisenhower farm, and one evening found ourselves in a historic inn, right in the heart of Gettysburg. Their menu featured an entree called a “game bird medley”. Yes, three game birds that were roasted and, if memory serves, quite delicious. Striving for authenticity, they were more than likely birds like pheasant, quail, and such. I’ve often ordered “duck a l’orange” when I’ve seen it on menus, and never really been disappointed. I even ordered venison once, to which our friend Deb remarked that I was “eating Bambi”.
Recently, I’ve seen both duck, goose, and Cornish game hen available in the grocery stores. So, in the years like this, where we’re hosting, I’ve proposed creating our own “game bird medley”. No, I’m not talking about those “turduckens”, those “build-a-bear”, engineered birds that leave nature shaking its head. I’m talking three distinct birds, separate but equal. I should preface this discussion by pointing out that neither Her Ladyship nor the Princess like the dark meat of turkey. Apparently, this dislike has been extended to duck and goose, on the fatal assumption that they’re both essentially dark meat. I don’t really see what the problem would be. That goose that Mother Cratchit is cooking for Christmas dinner, before that massive turkey that Ebenezer Scrooge shows up with in the late afternoon, looks quite tasty. Of course, the ashes that drop on it in the Muppet version, when Rizzo falls down the chimney, would have to be cleaned off with a quick run through the dishwasher. In the other film versions, though, the goose looks fine. Anyway, my game bird medley has met with a resounding lack of support – in fact, upward-turning noses and remarks of scorn and derision.
I’ve also proposed several times that, in the spirit of the original harvest celebration, we recreate some of the traditions that have made Plimoth Plantation famous. For example, we have a nice flock of wild turkeys right here, out back next to the apple orchards. We could round up one of the plumper birds and serve that, along with some root vegetables cooked over an open fire. I thought the Princess could wield her ax and, well, do what was done to Mary, Queen of Scots, and then our great niece and nephew, dressed in colonial attire, looking like a miniature John Alden and Priscilla Mullins, and could have the fun of plucking the feathers and getting it ready for the oven. Once again, my family has disappointed, and shot down the idea unequivocally. I must say that they lack any spirit of adventure.
So, we’re back to the traditional turkey, the one cleaned and prepped for the oven. No, we won’t get up a dawn to put it in the oven on a low temperature, as our parents did. And, no, we won’t even stuff the bird, because all reports indicate that the turkey becomes a bacteria incubator when you do that. So, we’ll cook the stuffing in casserole dishes. Here again is a nod to the traditional Thanksgiving dinner.
Her Ladyship’s family, traditionalists in every sense, have a recipe for a sausage stuffing that goes back I don’t really know how long. Possibly to the Spanish-American War. I will grant that it is quite delicious, but sadly, it doesn’t agree with me. I won’t go into further details, for which all of my readers can give additional thanks. I therefore make an alternate stuffing. One with apples, seasonings, and bacon. It is very good too, although the Princess doesn’t eat it because she doesn’t like bacon. Yes, I know what you’re thinking. Bacon is the universal food. How can anyone not like it? After the stuffing, of course, is the choice of potato. What to make here? Mashed potatoes are the obvious choice, and again fit with tradition. Some folks take the off-ramp to scalloped potatoes, or another form of potato that is distinctly European, and thus un-American – some creamed versions of potatoes, with exotic flavors. I’ve offered to punch ours up with garlic or something equally innocuous, but no. You-know-who isn’t having it, and she calls the shots. So, on to the vegetables. The Princess, the anti-bacon factor in the equation, also does not like butternut squash. She and our nephew are alike in that, so somewhere in the family line is a dominant anti-squash gene. We’ll fall back on some combinations of beans, carrots, or spinach. Our niece-in-law makes a terrific creamed spinach casserole, but as she’ll be elsewhere, we’re forced to recreate our own version of it. In my family, we always had turnip, but, once again, You-know-who doesn’t care for turnip. When we first met, our vegetable options were rather limited, because she didn’t like most of them. Over the years, her vegetable palette has grown quite a bit, but turnip is still in the “no-fly-zone” of vegetable selections.
Finally, we come to desserts. This, of course, is one of the key areas of a truly wonderful and successful Thanksgiving meal. My sister-in-law is typically in charge, as she makes great pies. She’ll bring a couple. A pecan pie, which Her Ladyship adores, but nobody else much does, and a pumpkin pie for the rest of us. When their grandchildren were little, there would have to be something chocolate for them. The Princess would whip up something for them, and, if I was approached with the proper sales pitch, I could be enticed to have some of that too. Many families will have a range of desserts from fancy tarts to cakes and puddings. My mother always had a plum pudding for Christmas, although she ordered it. She did make the hard sauce for it, though, and I remember quite liking it. My father was a mince pie aficionado, although nobody else joined him in that. Others favor things like fruitcakes. They have been popular in Canada and Europe for wedding cakes and other special occasions, but I’ve never been a huge fan of all those nuts and candied fruit. Rather like eating gummy bears embedded in bricks.
My sister and her family have adopted a vegan diet, so I’m not positive what their menu will look like. It is a healthy choice, but not one I’m ready to make. Perhaps Glade has come up with a turkey aerosol spray that can be spritzed around the dining room at meal time to give the suggestion of . . . . . .
So, as Thanksgiving Day approaches, we give thanks for all that we have and all that we’re about to eat. A celebration of the harvest and of nature’s bounty. I wish you all a truly joyful day of gorging and excess. As I mentioned before, if you’re a fan of British television show, “Vicar of Dibley”, remember that wonderful episode where the Vicar accepts multiple invitations to Christmas lunch, and is so full by the end that she can barely move. I embrace that kind of excess, although, sadly as I get older, I can’t do quite as much damage. We all must think of the delightfully creative left-overs we’ll be having for days and weeks after. Above all, enjoy the aromas of the day!
I'm Thinking...No! 