Cranberry Blues
Honoring a Thanksgiving staple, dipping into memory, and deciding to dine out
Do you have warm and fuzzy memories associated with Thanksgiving, the kind that are set around a table with the bronzed turkey and all the trimmings at the center of an enormous feast? Perhaps the picture in your head resembles the one in the famous Norman Rockwell painting Freedom from Want more than the one above by Doris Lee called Thanksgiving, with women bustling about in a Depression-era kitchen preparing the meal. The latter earned the artist some criticism for its “naive” portrayals, but a fierce defense from writer Meredith Mendelsohn in an excellent 2021 New York Times profile of Lee: “…her focus — the intensity of the women’s labor — feels much truer to life than the era’s more typical depictions of the idyllic Thanksgiving table.”
Do you have an idealized image of Thanksgiving, either from childhood or from your imagination that reality can never meet? Or do you manage each year to find joy in this most food-centric and American of holidays (though I found out this year that Canadians celebrate it too!)? I’d love to hear from you!
As I wrote in a piece that ran three years ago, I have no memories of Thanksgiving from my early years. It simply wasn’t my immigrant parents’ holiday. Even though the little recipe notebook that I inherited from my mother has multiple references on how to stuff, roast and serve turkey, I can’t recall a single Thanksgiving feast featuring the big bird among the many festive dinners that Mom prepared.
Over the last four-plus decades, Thanksgiving became the holiday we celebrated with my mother-in-law Judy because it usually landed on or near her birthday. It was often a joyous occasion, with multiple generations of family and friends, but, as time has gone by, the circle has diminished due to death and geography. This year there are just four of us. Instead of cooking, we’re going out despite my offering to make a small feast.
“It won’t be any trouble,” I assured my mother-in-law.
“Absolutely not!” she said. “I want to go out to someplace special.”
Since Thanksgiving has always seemed so important to Judy, I asked her to share some memories about it. Was it something she looked forward to when she was growing up in Indianapolis?
“I have horrible memories of Thanksgiving,” she said. “I don’t even remember celebrating my birthday or anything.”
As I continued asking questions, Judy said she would write something and send it to me. Here’s what she wrote:
Why Thanksgiving used to be fun, but isn't anymore and why we're going to a restaurant this year.
By Judy Graham
I don’t have fond memories of Thanksgiving from my childhood, but when we moved to L.A. it became my favorite holiday. I loved everything about it. I loved having the family, extended family, and friends in our home. The more the merrier. I loved finding the best organic turkey and started cooking days before, making whatever I could. I loved setting the table with the best dishes and making the house look beautiful. I loved making the cranberries with my grandson as soon as he was big enough to stir the pot. I loved the way the house smelled when the turkey was roasting. I loved it all. My birthday is Nov 23, but we always celebrated on Thanksgiving Day. There was never a cake, but many pies made by my daughter-in-law and others. A great time was had by all. But things changed. My grandson, who I made the cranberries with, grew up, got married and moved to Japan. One son and his family moved to Atlanta. Parents who were always there died. Friends had kids and grandkids and had their own Thanksgiving dinners. And then there were four. I'm thrilled that I have one son and daughter in law living close by, but Thanksgiving is really just another day at this point. Of the four of us, one doesn’t eat turkey, one doesn’t eat cranberries or sweet potatoes. So, we're going to a restaurant. There will still be organic turkey, but there will also be salmon. And, maybe, since it's my birthday, my actual birthday on the day this year, maybe I'll get a candle in the pumpkin pie. And I'll be happy with that.
I told Judy that reading what she had written made me a little sad.
“Really, I could make something nice at home,” I repeated.
“No,” she said emphatically. “This is what happens. Families get smaller and smaller. I’m really happy about going to a restaurant. It all makes sense to me. You can’t cry over what was.”
That may be the difference between Judy, practical, not given to mourning what can’t be changed, and me, quite the opposite.
It is a little difficult finding a special place that doesn’t charge close to $100 per head for a Thanksgiving dinner. We found one for about half of that—excluding wine, of course. I believe they also serve pumpkin pie, but just in case, I’ll make one—and maybe two—apple or pecan, or perhaps a non-pie dessert. You can never have too many desserts!
And though we’re not having Thanksgiving at home, and my son isn’t around to make cranberry sauce with his grandma, just because Thanksgiving is all about memory, I’ll make that cranberry sauce we all like so much—and probably a turkey breast to go with it for the weekend. It would also go great with leftover turkey, though, for non-meat eaters like Judy, it’s also delicious mixed into yogurt with a sprinkling of granola or spread on toast! You can find the recipe for the sauce in my previous post here.
Thanksgiving, and the upcoming meals we put together for Hanukkah and Christmas really do take a lot of work when you celebrate at home. Another image that caught my attention was far more recent than the Norman Rockwell and Doris Lee paintings shown above. It appeared on the cover of the Bon Appétit November 2022 Thanksgiving issue. Subtitled “Your Cooking Problems, Solved,” it shows a clearly overwhelmed cook surrounded by a surfeit of Thanksgiving dishes. I imagine many of us may feel like that at some point this season!
On the other hand, as Judy reminded me, some people are spending the holidays alone. And there are others who are without food or shelter, and then there are those who are living through war or fleeing for their lives or who have lost those they loved, and others still who have no hope or are suffering from mental illness. It touches close to the bone sometimes. Almost exactly 10 years ago, we lost a very dear friend Richard to suicide. We still think about him often.
After I went to college, my parents and my brothers Denis and Michael used to spend Thanksgiving at the home of my second-cousin Ursula, her husband Irv and their four children. Michael, who passed away last year, told me he prized those Thanksgivings, not only for the excellent food but for the great warmth and acceptance he felt at that well-appointed table. When I spoke to Ursula, a fit and optimistic nonagenarian who resides in a senior living community in Northern California, the other day, she said that she would be spending Thanksgiving with her children and their families at one of their homes. She said they would all say the Shehechiyanu, the Hebrew prayer of gratitude recited on special occasions. It basically thanks the Almighty for allowing us to live to reach this moment in time. Here’s a translation:
“Blessed are You, Adonai our God, Sovereign of all, who has kept us alive, sustained us, and brought us to this season.”
I think I may say it on Thanksgiving too.
Whether you are eating out or at home, having a large gathering or small, alone or with others, I hope that you will find something or someone in your life for which you are grateful.
I’m thankful for all of you! See you next time.
Ruth
I found it hard to connect with Thanksgiving as a British teen, new to California. My best friend took me to her large family celebration, nothing fancy. I remember Grandma and her determination that nobody leave hungry, offering post-meal sandwiches to people lying prostrate in front of the football on TV, groaning, while all the women tried to get Grandma to have a sit down, with no luck. It took me a long time to realize that this was a woman who had come from Arkansas during the Depression, and for whom feeding her whole family as much as-or more than-they wanted was a life's dream come true. It was a lovely gathering.
My Italian mother really embraced Thanksgiving, I'm not sure why. Possibly because she loved to cook (and was marvelous at it). She always bought the turkey from a farm in NJ and stuffed it with a savory stuffing of bread, sausage, and chestnuts. The sides were all Italian ~ braised rapini, cauliflower and cured olives, sweet & sour cabbage ~ at least until my sister started making sweet potatoes and apples (which we loved). I miss my mom's cooking every day. We have begun to experience the holiday "attrition," with parents gone and kids now grown. Bittersweet. Thanks for your lovely post.