About now, if you haven’t already finished roasting your turkey, you’re regretting not ordering takeout. What kind of takeout? Anything you could find that meant you didn’t need to chop things, cook it, possibly reheat it, serve it to a mostly unappreciative crowd, and store the left-overs.
Why do we do this on Thanksgiving? Supposedly, it represents the Pilgrim’s attempt to get together and get along with the Native American community who lived there first. Recently, I read that turkey might not have been served, but instead, the food served was possibly an assortment of venison, duck, geese, cod, bass, and locally grown vegetables including a variation of corn known as flint.
(Catherine Lamb, on Food52.com First Thanksgiving)
Why do we persist in gathering and eating turkey? Nobody knows. . . but Congress established Thanksgiving as a national holiday in 1941. Turkeys were readily available and inexpensive.
Whether they are the centerpiece of an authentic Thanksgiving meal or not, I just know in my family, turkeys are not loved. My husband hates turkeys, a residual result of dating a woman whose family owned a turkey farm. He assures me that if I could see turkeys as he had, I’d detest them, too. My son has been a vegetarian since he was about twelve, so no turkey for him. I don’t detest turkeys for Thanksgiving dinner, but fussing for one main diner, me, seemed like too much work.
During a few Thanksgivings, our family of three had three different menus: something other than turkey for my husband, a gourd/squash stuffed with a vegetable casserole for my son, and whatever I felt like making for myself.
We’ve taken a novel approach in more recent years. My husband participates in the preparation. We choose a country and create a menu with that country’s food. This year it’s Scandinavian/Swedish food, but forget anything with herring or sardines. Again, my husband won’t eat those.
All of this fuss and planning reminds me of a Thanksgiving many years ago when my ex decided we’d make turkey on our grill–in November. Our stove was on the fritz, so that was our alternative. On one of our trips out in the cold–remember–November, we found the turkey was still nearly raw. We’d run out of propane. Our few guests had been told we’d have dinner early, around four. No chance.
We got creative and went down to our basement. An old gas stove had been left there by the previous owners, but we didn’t see a hook-up for the stove, which had a gas connection. I looked around, opening my mind to possibilities and I saw–our gas dryer! My ex grabbed his wrench, disconnected the gas from the dryer, reconnected it to the stove, and made incantations to the food powers-that-be we’d eat dinner that day.
Hurrah, the stove worked! We eventually ate dinner around 9 p.m., which probably accounts for my fondness for gas cooking.
And what did that have to do with turkey? Well, we were eating turkey. A very large turkey. That took hours to roast. Wrangling it onto a tray for carving took some muscle.
This Thanksgiving, we’re creating a meal that includes varied courses, courtesy of IKEA. We figured it would be authentic, well-prepared, and I wouldn’t need to fuss. The main course we planned is Swedish meatballs with an assortment of courses that we both like.
I am the proud new owner of a mandoline, a slicer that is deadly sharp, but will cut potatoes in thin, even pieces. My kitchen already contains a spiralizer, knives, mashers, food processor, a spaetzle maker that doubles as a potato ricer, an immersion blender, and other unique gadgets. But we didn’t own a mandoline, not the musical instrument (which I fondly remember my grandfather playing and spelled without the final “e”), but a gadget with adjustable thicknesses and a holder so the potato slides over the cutter and creates even slices. Happily, I had a coupon and a discount card so the mandoline was a mere $7.41. Cross your fingers for me. I have not had good luck with sharp things.
Back to my original concept. If Thanksgiving isn’t about the turkey, what is it about?
Okay, now I’ll get a little mushy. (Not a food term here.)
I consider Thanksgiving a time for family, a time for fun, creativity, and enjoyment, be it games, curling up with some hot chocolate watching a movie, reading (yes, of course, reading!), and cuddling.
In that vein, I hope your Thanksgiving is a day to relax, eat great food (created in your home, or by others), and let your mind dwell on people, places, and things that you value. Many of us are truly fortunate, even without extravagant means, to enjoy good health, a comfortable home, love, and happiness.
I wish you an extravagant quantity of great health, comfort, love, and happiness. Be kind to yourself and others! Until next time, Happy Thanksgiving and every day!
Hugs,
