I should preface this post by saying that I have been both honored and fortunate to spend Thanksgiving with wonderful friends for many years now, and for that, I am, well, thankful. They have opened their homes to me, in a fine example of kindness and generosity, and I have very much enjoyed being a part of their celebrations.
But Thanksgiving is a very strange holiday.
For one thing, as the title of this post indicates, it is a feast day allegedly established by and commemorating a bunch of religious ascetics. Their stark, unsparing, and largely humorless world view stands in stark contrast to the bounty of the standard Thanksgiving feast. And the fact that said colonials would have almost certainly perished were it not for the help of the native inhabitants just adds to the strangeness; it’s as if Thanksgiving is the culmination of an autumnal “Exploitation of America” festival that begins on Columbus Day.
But I digress. I set up this blog to talk about food, and that’s the weird thing about Thanksgiving. As someone who loves to both cook and eat, you’d think that I would view a holiday which centers on a massive meal as nirvana. And yet I don’t. Thanksgiving, although it is food-centered, is the culinary equivalent of a straitjacket. Yes, food is the star attraction, but the food never varies. Ever. Tradition and Nostalgia dominate the feast. And there are only so many ways to stuff bread into a turkey’s thoracic cavity.
But wait, you say, what about the sides? Thanksgiving is really about the sides. OK, yes, up to a point. And let us agree that mashed potatoes are one of the finest foods on earth, bar none. But again, because T&N rule at Thanksgiving, you never get any variation. Casseroles made from canned soup have their place, but they’re not something I typically crave, and they mask rather than enhance the flavors of the other ingredients; green beans deserve better than that. Sweet potatoes are delicious, and can be prepared in all kinds of interesting ways—when you have a sweet vegetable like the sweet potato, cutting and contrasting that sweetness with acid, or chilis, or blue cheese can result in a really amazing dish. Marshmallows, however, just make the sweet potato into something so cloying that Hostess (RIP) would think twice before producing it.
The turkey is fine. It’s big, and it’s impressive, and at feasts, those are important qualities. But again, T&N. Many years ago, my uncle bought two smaller turkeys for Thanksgiving rather than one huge one. He roasted one and smoked the other. He and I were the only people who ate the smoked one—’twas too strange, too radical; the following year, the smoked turkey was no more.
It isn’t always this way, of course. I once had the opportunity to prepare a Thanksgiving paella, which I think proved that there are other festive dishes that work as well for such a holiday. I’ve always thought a leg of lamb would be delightful, but I can count the number of lamb-eating friends that I have on one hand. The only arena where you see real flexibility is dessert, where one can have all manner of cakes, pastries and the like on the condition that at least one guest has produced a pumpkin pie. Again, T&N.
So we get a food-centered holiday where menu additions and modifications are not really possible. You see, then, the cause of my frustration. Again, I enjoy the fellowship, and camaraderie, and the large amounts of wine that are consumed at any decent feast. But I can’t help wondering if there is some way to mix things up a bit, to make a Thanksgiving dinner that might push the culinary boundaries just a bit.
P.S.: Trust me on this one: bake a sweet potato, split it open, sprinkle it with some crumbled blue cheese, and then put back into the oven for a minute to melt the cheese slightly. Some toasted pecans or walnuts on top won’t go amiss, either.
P.P.S. No beverage should be pumpkin-flavored. Ever.
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