Thanksgiving is Bombastic
11/16/23
Thanksgiving is bombastic. There is too much food. There is no thoughtful succession of courses to ease you through the feast; just one bulging buffet. There are too many unique must-have items on the table. Cousin Lucy loves parsnips and Marcy always brings green beans. There is repetition in flavor, texture, and plant-part. (Sweet potatoes, white potatoes, parsnips—three roots. Then, soft stuffing.) There are too many desserts and they are too like the side dishes. (Velvety, spicy.) There are too many people at the table—and at the folding tables, and on the couches. And everyone is so sentimental about this or that bit.
Oh dear. I sound like one of those people who doesn’t like the beach. They’re always whining about the salt, sand, and sun. I love my family, and they love Thanksgiving, and so do I. But the way it’s often done doesn’t match the way I like to shop, cook, host, or eat.
It’s not difficult to identify each problem and its cause. The turkey, a perfectly nice meat, is dry because it’s too big. The vegetables are cold or overdone because no cook can produce six perfectly-turned-out vegetable dishes at once with one fridge and four burners. The desserts—each a tasty autumn classic—don’t complement the meal. Instead, they overload it.
As a single girl, my way past the bombast was a smallish dinner party. I’d edit the meal sharply and finish with one lovely dessert, like a pecan tart. Those minimalist, but not effortless, dinners in Brussels, London, and New York were a pleasure, but once I grew up, I could not avoid hosting “real” family Thanksgivings with children of all ages, and they are somewhat messier. The most tactile memory of my first Thanksgiving as host is the heavy breathing. I was only days pregnant with Rose and Jacob and already panting like an overheated dog. Now our kids are older, and and I am often a very happy guest with family, who make a lovely meal. We will sometimes host a Thanksgiving potluck later in the weekend. I love that.
What's a sensible approach? It’s a seasonal festival, and the season is your ally. Start by ditching the green beans if they’re not fresh in your region. Or serve September beans you cleverly pickled with dill. Make bitter rapini with garlic or red cabbage braised with apples. If a green salad can’t be had at your local market or doesn’t match your aesthetic, make a crunchy celeriac remoulade.
Let the vegetables represent all parts of the plant: root, stem, leaf. Let each one bring a new color and texture to the table. Plan two sides to make ahead (like the mash or creamed pearl onions, always a lot of work) and two closer to the last minute. (Stop at four.) Dress each vegetable with one fat and one unique flavor. Puréed sweet potatoes get ginger and butter, roasted parsnips rosemary and olive oil, creamed spinach a dusting of nutmeg. Let it be fun before dinner. Serve a good sparkling sweet cider, like Samascott or Melick, a hard cider with a little sparkle from Eve’s Cidery; invent a dry seasonal cocktail and make a pitcher—maybe a rosemary-infused gin and tonic, a vodka gimlet with cranberries, or a sparkler of pear brandy and ginger ale.
Oh yes, the turkey. Make a loose plan for the stuffing base (cornbread or bread crumbs) and flavor (rosemary, sage) but don’t fret over details; stuffing is forgiving. Order a heritage turkey raised on pasture, for better texture and flavor, but don't overcook it! Buy extra necks and feet, and make some gravy in advance; otherwise, you have to stand there stirring the pan drippings while the turkey dries out and the guests drink your cocktail. Buy a small bird so you can cook it perfectly, timed to be just-roasted when you sit down, not an hour before. If your crowd is large, make two eight-pound turkeys, the better to produce crispy skin and moist meat. Or buy a turkey "crown" from Dickson's - it's a giant, double bone-in breast.
One year, be brave. Make pumpkin custards in cups, without the crust, with whipped cream in a can from Natural by Nature (it's pretty good!). Make an off-beat dessert: maple-pecan sugar cookies or an orange curd tart or lemon possets. If you do it with style, no one will have the nerve to complain.
