A Minimalist Thanksgiving

A Minimalist Thanksgiving

It’s been more than a week since Thanksgiving, but I’ve been doing some thinking about how the holiday seems to bring out the “foodie” in all of us.  Even those who are normally apathetic about food suddenly dig out their secret family recipes, or talk with great anticipation about the mounds of mashed potatoes or marshmallowy yams that will be eaten on that special day.  For me, the focal point for my Thanksgiving plate is the stuffing (my special twist: add sausage and dried cherries!) and I always wonder why I limit this near-perfect carb choice to just once a year. But ever notice that most of the chatter surrounding the holiday is on the sheer volume of food? How many times did you hear the term “food coma” last week?  It’s not usually about appreciating the tastes—perhaps because the Thanksgiving meal ends up in one delightful mélange on our plate?  At the heart of it, I suspect that the day is more about comfort, nostalgia, and tradition than it is about the actual food. 

This year was a little unusual for me.  For the first time in almost a decade, I didn’t cook Thanksgiving but instead was invited to my good friend’s house.  Amy would call herself a mere foodie, but I say she’s a true gourmet.  What a feast she prepared: 4 courses, 2 turkeys (one brined, one barbecued), 2 different stuffings (one with an unexpected dash of Cointreau), 3 pies (all with homemade crust), and hand-whipped cream with bourbon vanilla (no Cool Whip allowed!). It was a feast rich not only in quantity but in quality.  But what was most memorable was Amy’s first course (Exhibit A, above)—because at first it seemed to be the antithesis of all we associate with the holiday.  It was beautiful in its minimalism.  She served a tiny portion of carrot-ginger soup in a “bowl” fashioned from a carved-out Lady apple (slightly larger than a crabapple, and sweeter).  Alongside she had a bite-sized lemon-thyme biscuit, with just a centimeter of blue cheese and a dab of quince paste.  It made me stop and really focus on every component; and appreciate all the subtle tastes that were converging on one dainty dish.  No mindless gorging to be done here—it was all about pausing, noticing, and being truly thankful for the little things.  And that’s the true meaning of Thanksgiving, isn’t it? 

I’ll be here most Fridays, waxing philosophical (and in some cases, practical) on my food adventures. Hope to see you!

Jennifer