Thanksgiving Food Traditions Matter More Than You Think

Take a few minutes this Thanksgiving to think about the role food plays in bringing our families – and a divided nation – together.

Everyone wants to talk 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 even 30 minutes.

But what about food?

Why don’t we ever talk about the other star of our vacation?

This probably seems frivolous. Or boring. Everyone turns into a glutton. Then we regret it on the sofa.

The end.

But this harms the magical power of food. And the stories behind those hours spent in the kitchen. Or the traditions that explain why we serve the dishes we prepare.

Our opinion team shares a few of ours in the hope that it will inspire you to think more deeply about the role food plays in bringing our families — and even a divided nation like ours — closer together.

If nothing else, it might give you some new recipe ideas to try next year.

The sound that reminds me of my father

Growing up, my dad always had to have a can of cranberry sauce for the holidays – the plain jellied sauce. It was simple, like him. No fancy berries or orange zest.

And he loved it. Me too. But the rest of the family hated it.

After moving to Arizona and starting cooking my own holiday meals, I bought a can of cranberry sauce to honor my father, who had passed away a year before.

Upon opening it the first year, my now husband (who doesn’t like cranberry sauce) and I discovered that it made a hilarious SCHLORRRP sound right out of the can. A giant, gelatinous red cylinder that retains its wavy shape even after leaving the box.

We laughed and laughed. And then the next year I filmed the cranberry sauce making that noise again.

So this is our tradition. We film the cranberry sauce coming out of the can in one giant blob. We laugh and laugh.

And I remember my father.

— Joanna Allhands

Let me change your view of cranberries

Joanna, it’s a great tradition.

When I was a child, my mother made cranberry relish. Now many readers will know what I’m talking about, but I’m always surprised how many people have never had it.

If you’re so clueless, I’m about to change your thinking about cranberries, cranberry sauce, and Thanksgiving.

My mother doesn’t know where she got the recipe, but I guess Family Circle, her magazine of choice in the 1960s. It couldn’t be simpler:

Savory with cranberries

Get a 12-ounce bag of cranberries, two oranges (peel and all), and a cup of sugar. (My mother always makes it with 2 cups of sugar.)
Rinse the cranberries and oranges. Slice the oranges, then pass the oranges and cranberries through a meat grinder and into a bowl.
Add the sugar, stir and cover.
Refrigerate.

Serve in a small bowl with a spoon. Put a few splashes on your plate next to the turkey or dressing. It particularly brings out the flavor of white meats.

Do this and start your countdown. You’re about to take off to turkey heaven.

— Phil Boas

No table is complete without gnocchi

As a child, our Thanksgiving Day table was brimming with tradition. Turkey. Mashed potatoes. Padding. Sauce. Green bean casserole. Freshly made bread rolls. And … gnocchi.

“There has to be a little Italian,” my mother said. “Like us.”

I could press the boiled potatoes in the hand potato masher onto a large cutting board. The potatoes were made into a bowl into which my mother placed a single egg. Flour would be added and the mixture would be gently molded into a dough.

Once rested, I could roll a portion into a “snake” and then cut it into tiny “pillows”.

Sometimes my mother would hum and sing a little chorus that she said her mother sang with her: “Ridi, ridi che mama ha fatto i gnocchi.”

“Laugh, laugh, because mom made gnocchi.”

And that’s what we would do. Laugh and laugh.

I remember it, I still remember it.

— EJ Montini

The stuffing is the real star of the show

Let’s talk about the star of the show’s turkey: the stuffing, of course.

This is where I’m supposed to talk about Mom’s old recipe, but honestly, my mom wasn’t what you’d call a great cook. More than once she used the smoke detector as a kitchen timer.

In our house, it’s stuffing Southwestern style – a recipe my husband has concocted over the years through trial and error. Lots of mistakes at the beginning.

Cornbread made from scratch a day in advance, then mashed and mixed with fresh Anaheim, poblano and jalapeno peppers. Add corn, green onions, fresh cilantro and the usual butter, eggs, sugar and spices, and be sure to double the recipe.

Leftovers are essential.

We don’t put our stuffing in the turkey because, well, it’s just gross. Instead, the bird is filled with orange slices and the stuffing is placed in casserole dishes.

And yes, I know that technically that makes it a dressing, not a stuffing.

Whatever you want to call it, I call it the best thing on the table.

Until the pie is served…

-Laurie Roberts

My family cooked. I buy pies at the store

Any traditions for Thanksgiving dinner? Are you kidding me? We’ve done them all.

Turkey. Cornbread stuffing. Regular stuffing. Macaroni and Cheese (and believe me when I tell you that Patti LaBelle’s recipe was nothing like what my mother and grandmothers could make off the top of their heads.) Cranberry Sauce (canned, Joanna.) Cranberry Relish (as Phil remembers it.)

Mashed potatoes. Green Beans (My sisters and cousins spent all morning breaking off the ends.) Green Bean Casserole. Collard greens (and as far as Kamala Harris is concerned, they’ve never been washed in a bathtub. Gross.) Mustard greens. Kale. Candied yams. Homemade rolls. And there was always enough sauce for everyone to have their own boat with a straw in it.

Don’t get me started on desserts. Pecan pie. (My grandmother made one for the family and another for me.) Pound cake. 7Up Cake. Pineapple upside down cake. Zucchini bread. Sweet potato pie. (There was never pumpkin pie. It was for, uh, other families.) And there was enough Cool Whip that we could keep the containers and never need to buy Tupperware.

It seems like it was yesterday and a million years ago.

These days, I’m here in Phoenix as a single father, with no family besides my four children. My goal is to make the best replica of the meals I remember and tell my little team stories about family members they’ll only meet once or twice a year, if we’re lucky.

This will be my third year making Thanksgiving dinner, texting my sisters for recipes, and Facetiming my mom for help with details. I’ve done a really good job so far.

But there is one tradition that I think my children will remember most of all: Dad buying the pies at the grocery store.

— Greg Moore

I eat whatever the rest of my family brings

I’m the pilgrim of the Thanksgiving culinary world, sifting through what others are cooking.

This has nothing to do with the fact that Thanksgiving wasn’t a part of my childhood.

It’s just that I won a medal for worst cook in the family. On my last attempt, we ended up with an inedible turkey, laughing as we savored the side dishes others had prepared.

Hanging out, laughing and sharing whatever is on the table is my family’s tradition. This is not a particular recipe. It’s enjoying each other’s company and, in my case, letting others take control of the kitchen.

What a blessing this is!

— Elvia Diaz

What are your favorite Thanksgiving food traditions? Tell us.