I’m sorry, but I must post this. My sweetheart informed me that in my previous cranberry post I missed the vital point that the cranberry sauce should retain the original shape of the can. In order to assist you with this process, I offer you this delightful and informative youtube video. Enjoy.
Tag Archives: Thanksgiving dinner
The Great Cranberry Sauce Debate
With Thanksgiving fast approaching here in the United States, the topic of the holiday meal can no longer be ignored. Oh sure, the turkey has been ordered from the butcher, and my sweetheart has decided that this year he would like to smoke it, so that decision has been made, but we aren’t done yet.
Thanksgiving dinner is probably my favorite meal, closely followed by a nice lobster dinner. When I found out the Pilgrims had lobster at their Thanksgiving I was almost jealous of them for a minute, then I remembered the other details of their story and got over it pretty quickly. Besides, they had to prepare the whole feast without the help of even a single reliable oven, let alone a Kitchenaid stand mixer.
I hosted Thanksgiving for many years when I was married, and I enjoyed it very much. I think our largest group of friends and family was 18 one year, and it was wonderful. Another year with a fairly large group we set up tables on the patio and ate outdoors. It was a beautiful day and a wonderful way to celebrate the holiday. By contrast, my Thanksgivings have boiled down to a small celebration including me, my sweetheart, and this year, my son. Still, we need all the food.
Our menu isn’t as extensive as many other people’s but here goes:
turkey- this year smoked (we’ve also done roasted and fried)
stuffing- the jury is out on which recipe (Mom used to bring Oma’s recipe, but she’s out of town)
brussels sprouts- thank you internet for your wonderful recipe with Andouille sausage
mashed potatoes- this is where the Kitchenaid comes in
gravy- you can never have too much
cranberry quick bread- from a box, but so yummy
pies- thank you Village Inn
and cranberry sauce.
Ah yes, the cranberry sauce. It’s not my favorite part of the meal, by any means, but it’s necessary. The sweet, tart taste balances the other flavors perfectly, and the color on the plate is beautiful. A little cranberry sauce goes a long way, in my opinion, like wasabi. But what kind?
When I was a kid I hated cranberry sauce so I avoided it at all costs. Then, as I got older, I began to understand its importance. This was around the same time my mother discovered that it’s really easy to make it following the simple directions on the bag of cranberries. I was hooked. I used that recipe for years, and everyone always liked the cranberries.
Then I met my sweetheart. He is a wonderful man who asks very little. When he does have some sort of request or preference I’m only too happy to accommodate him, usually with a smile. But then there’s this. His cranberry sauce preference. Yes, he’s one of the people in this country who keep Ocean Spray busy making the gelatinous version of cranberries that keep the shape of the can when you open it. Goopy cranberry rounds are a better description of this product. I don’t get it. Why not have delicious tangy yet sweet fresh cranberries lovingly made in our very own kitchen? Why open a can and wait for it to make a noise akin to a teenager’s bodily function as it slowly descends from its aluminum casing only to plop out onto a plate? Where is the beauty in that?
I’ve given in to this strange request in the past, and I probably will again, after all, it’s important to him to include this tradition from his upbringing. This year, however, I will make fresh cranberries too. I know it’s too many cranberries for three people. It’s too many for fifteen. That’s not the point. The point is that it’s Thanksgiving, and Thanksgiving is about gratitude and appreciating the ones you love, while also respecting tradition. I think two types of cranberries will be our family’s new tradition.
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Thanksgiving Memories
I’m seven years old. Cousin Frankie is visiting from South Africa. He’s my mother’s cousin and he’s over six feet tall. I come from a family of rather short people (not me, I’m adopted) and in this crowd he’s a giant. He lifts me to his shoulders. I am queen of the world. He gives me a whisker rub. He leaves me with a gold bracelet with my name engraved on it. I love cousin Frankie.
I don’t know exactly what year it is, but it’s the early 1970’s. I am wearing a long lavender dress. Long dresses are in fashion. We eat Thanksgiving dinner in a lovely large room at a country club. I will, many years later, hold my wedding reception in this same room at this same country club. I will wear a long dress that day too, but it will be white.
For many years in a row there is Thanksgiving dinner at my mother’s dining room table. She carves the turkey in the kitchen with the electric knife. It sounds as though there is a horror movie being filmed. We don’t dare enter. My grandmother brings the dressing, an old German recipe. It is delicious and like nothing else I have ever eaten. One year, in my early adulthood, she asks me what I would like for Hanukkah. I tell her I would like that recipe. She writes it for me in her spiky German inspired script. I treasure it, but cannot reproduce it.
I am a college student, on a study abroad semester in Great Britain. I miss my family and I miss the sound of English without a British accent and I miss salsa. I buy a plane ticket home for Thanksgiving. My father is furious at the idea but gives me the biggest hug of anyone at the airport. It was worth the money for that memory. I returned after a week much happier and much better adjusted. It was worth the money for the peace of mind.
We’ve recently moved away from family, the boyfriend (future ex-husband) and me. His brother and a friend live with us. Their grandfather and his crazy wife are in town. The four of us young people manage to cook our first Thanksgiving meal, and our elderly guests enjoy it greatly, as do we. The green bean casserole turns out too peppery, but other than that it is perfect, and Leon Lett doesn’t score his touchdown. I love that.
My son is small and his uncle is in town (father’s brother) as is his aunt (father’s step-sister). We hold Thanksgiving at our house (as has become tradition) and decide to do it on the back patio. It is a gorgeous warm day and we have a wonderful holiday.
I am in the midst of my divorce. We want to keep things as normal as possible for our 12 year old so I cook Thanksgiving dinner as always. I invite my ex-in-laws (out-laws?) to my home as I have for years. I also invite my ex-husband. I do not invite his girlfriend. We wait for him. We keep waiting for him. He finally calls. He has totaled his car on the way to my house. Nobody is hurt. His father picks him up. We carry on as if nothing has happened, because this is what we do.
I am in a new relationship. He is so different from any man I have ever known except one. He is like my father in many important ways. He wants to fry a turkey. This is completely unlike my father who had no interest in preparing food (although he did enjoy eating it, very much). We go on a quest to find the exact turkey fryer he wants. We end up with one that he thinks will do. It is just the two of us for Thanksgiving that year. His fried turkey is delicious. We have a new tradition. Fried for Thanksgiving, roasted for Christmas.
Life keeps changing. We change with it. Looking forward to many more Thanksgivings.
BulgingButtons 