Since Thanksgiving is a traditional occasion, I never gave any thought to the question of what we would be eating. Thanks to Norman Rockwell, I picture a dining room table surrounded by family members smiling expectantly at a beautiful roasted turkey glistening on its platter. There’s also mashed potatoes and gravy, stuffing, vegetables and salads, celery sticks and black olives for the children to use as finger puppets. (You never did that?) If you were really a traditionalist you also knew what vegetables and salads you were serving.
But that doesn’t always account for individual tastes. For instance, who’s idea was it to put that little dish of jellied cranberry on the table? I always buy a can, dutifully slide the cylindrical jelly into a pretty little crystal dish, set it on the table, and throw the majority of it out after the meal. Who eats it? One person out of 10, I think. Maybe this year I should buy a smaller can. It’s a funny tradition.
I once read of a man who could tell you where you lived within 100 miles by what you were serving for your Thanksgiving meal. And not only where you lived, but where you or your ancestors came from. How could that be? Well, apparently it’s in the accompanying food choices. Along the eastern seaboard you might be more likely to have some kind of seafood dish–oysters perhaps, or a seafood chowder appetizer. If you are from the Southern regions you might be more likely to have sweet potatoes or cornbread or a regional specialty. On the Pacific coast you might find crabcakes. The Southwestern diners may throw some salsa or avocado into the mix. And if your grandparents hailed from Norway, your table might have grandma’s lutefisk. And don’t even get me started on dessert.
It’s no surprise then that Thanksgiving is a cherished tradition. The food, as delicious as it is on its own, often has a second purpose. These favorite and familiar family recipes call up cherished memories of people and places we hold dear. We see our heritage in them.
