Everyone wants to wax philosophically about Thanksgiving.
This is the day to count your blessings, we say. Put aside your differences. Stop talking about the election for a day. Or, heck, even 30 minutes.
But what about the food?
Why don’t we ever talk about the other star of his holiday?
It probably sounds frivolous. Or boring. Everyone turns into a glutton. Then we regret it on the couch.
The end.
But that shortchanges the magical power of food. And the stories behind those hours spent in the kitchen. Or the traditions that help explain why we serve the dishes we do.
Our opinions team shares a few of ours in hopes that it inspires you to think deeper on the role food plays in drawing our families — and even a divided nation like ours — together.
If nothing else, maybe it’ll give you some new recipe ideas to try next year.
Growing up, my dad always had to have a can of cranberry sauce for the holiday — the plain, jellied one. It was simple, like him. No fancy berries or orange zest.
And he loved it. I did, too. But the rest of the family hated it.
After I moved to Arizona and began cooking my own holiday meals, I bought a can of cranberry sauce to honor my dad, who had passed away a year before.
Opening it the first year, my now-husband (who doesn’t like cranberry sauce) and I discovered that it made a hilarious SCHLORRRP sound as it came out of the can. One giant, gelatinous red cylinder that maintains its wiggly shape even after it leaves the can.
We laughed and laughed. And then next year, videoed the cranberry sauce making that noise again.
So, that’s our tradition. We video the cranberry sauce coming out of the can in one giant blob. We laugh and laugh.
And I........