Thanksgiving Pressure Cooking

In direct defiance of everything Food Network declares to be the Thanksgiving Turkey Commandments, I refuse to brine. I refuse. I don’t baste, I don’t roast my bird in an open pan on a bed of carrots and turnips. I’ve never even touched a turnip.  I have no idea what one tastes like and I’m not risking it with my Thanksgiving dinner. I've used the same enameled  roasting pan for decades. People get super-judgy about Thanksgiving meal preparation. Even the nice relatives who you genuinely like will cut you over the “berries or jellied” cranberry sauce debate.  Don’t cross them. 

            I learned to cook a Thanksgiving meal pretty early and even though my process is pretty simple, I’ve had consistently delicious results. I’m not monkeying around with success by roasting it upside down, or sealing it in an oven bag, or shoving herbs and butter under the skin. Just thinking about cramming twigs under the skin makes me uncomfortable. 

            This year, I will be hosting my boyfriend and his two teenage daughters for Thanksgiving.  It’s terrifying. Even more so than last year when it was my boyfriend, his mother, and his brother and sister-in-law. His mother called my adorable wicker turkey napkin holder tacky. That was still better than this because the girls are picky eaters, not big chatters, and it’s not like we can all share a bottle of wine. Dave asked me to include macaroni and cheese and dinner rolls so there would be something his oldest could consume. 

            I should mention that I love Thanksgiving. I love planning out my menu, shopping carefully over the preceding weeks for all of my ingredients, mapping out my cooking plan (I am a trained project manager, and Thanksgiving dinner prep with one oven is still the best way to teach the critical path), and making it all come together for an amazing spread that inspires awe in spite of my refusal to brine. Here’s what I do believe:

·      Thanksgiving should be relaxed and casual. Yes to the stretchy pants, no to the pocket square.

·      It’s a participation sport – give your guests something to do. It doesn’t have to be whisking gravy over a hot stove, have them open and serve wine or fold pretty napkins or just keep you company as you whisk hot gravy.

·      Release your death grip on the menu. Make some compromises so that your guests get a piece of their traditional Thanksgiving. My family has (mostly good-natured) fights over Waldorf salad which had bananas in it during my childhood. Unconventional for you? Yes, but it’s one of the high points of the day for me. Like macaroni and cheese might be.

·      Don’t skip the Macy’s parade on TV. That might be the only chance to see those Broadway numbers before nuclear winter.

·      No need to choose marshmallows or pecan streusel on the sweet potato soufflé – have both. You get this once a year.

·      Don’t get peer pressured into how you should do your thing. Want to deep-fry your turkey? Check your homeowner’s insurance and then knock yourself out.  Brine if you must, roast covered or uncovered, baste or tent or whatever works for you. The house will smell divine all day long.

·      Get the extra bottle of wine. When the questions start about possible matrimonial futures or the stories about your boyfriend’s ex-wife or the passive-aggressive commentary on your rattan table accessories, you’ll be grateful for the chance to sip and smile with unrelenting eye contact until the offender looks away in shame. Maybe you should buy two extra bottles.

This holiday, my guests and I will enjoy unbrined turkey, stuffing, sweet potatoes, whatever vegetable my boyfriend chooses, waldorf salad with bananas and raisins, macaroni and cheese, and rolls. While I’d be happy to skip the cranberry sauce altogether, we shall have the berried kind because there are strong feelings about the need for it and too many sharp objects in the house to take the risk.   

I will not use the giblets. I haven't eaten a giblet since it was my responsibility to cook the turkey. There's just no reason for that. I do slow simmer the neck for broth that I will use in the stuffing (dressing, actually as it does NOT go inside the bird, because - ew), and sometimes the gravy if needed. Growing up, my family added chopped hardboiled egg to the gravy too - another culinary preference that I've learned is not commonplace outside of my mother's family. 

There will be pie. For many years, I was the grateful guest of friends each Thanksgiving (along with my dog - the real attraction) who ordered much of the meal pre-prepared. Delicious, yes, but missing that "roasted all day" aroma that permeates the house and tortures your soul. Through a complex backstory that I won't recreate here, they end up with a pumpkin pecan pie each year that is one of the best things I have ever tasted IN MY LIFE. It took me about four years to get a hold of the recipe, modify it slightly, and start to make my own. It turns out that one "batch" makes three pies. Perhaps if I was better at math, I could work out how to get just the right amount of filling for one or two, but right now, I double the original recipe and that makes three perfectly.  I take one to my uncle's house over the holiday weekend usually. My work colleague Keith starts his lobby for the third pie to be shared at the office pretty early in the season. I can't blame him.

But pie is another cornerstone of the culinary experience. If you don't dig the custardy deliciousness or can't eat pecans, another pie is required. Should that be apple, cherry (I hope not), blueberry (perhaps, if there is ice cream), or a cold pie like lemon meringue or chocolate silk? I am willing to relinquish control over pie number two to Dave's youngest foodie-in-the-making daughter. Go to town, sister - I'm sure it will be delicious.

We will eat too much, and then have pie. And if I’m convincing, perhaps we will have a board or card game before we all succumb to tryptophan turkey comas. Probably not, but I’m a Thanksgiving optimist.