Giving Thanks for Options
WHAT WE LOVE IS THE NOVELTY—THE ROAD TRIP! THE NEW HOTEL (AND POOL) TO EXPLORE, A NEW NEIGHBORHOOD TO RUN A TURKEY TROT.
As a chef, I’ve cooked enough turkeys to last me a lifetime. For a home cook, holiday meals present an opportunity to show off your culinary prowess to an audience of loved ones. Every food-centric holiday comes with the potential of glowing adoration from family and friends. Unless … it doesn’t.
I haven’t cooked a traditional Thanksgiving turkey dinner on the correct calendar date* in years. Instead, our family uses the opportunity to redefine norms and expectations by seeking out restaurants within a drivable distance from home that are serving everything from soup dumplings to scrapple.
Let me say for those already a-bristle at the sacrilegious suggestion I have made: This story might not be for you. There is a (small) envious part of me that sees the photographs posted to Instagram of Aunt Tillie’s creamed onions or Doris’ refrigerator rolls and, yes, I too feel the nostalgia. If you enjoyed your passage through the airport on Wednesday afternoon, weren’t hung up by a blizzard or crushed by shopping carts at the grocery store while grabbing for the last bag of cranberries, please enjoy! There’s always next year to decide to take another path, even just once.
For those who are tempted to chart a new course, and perhaps considering the risks involved, know that my pangs of nostalgia are quickly calmed when I remember I have opted out of the Groundhog’s Day loop of expectations in favor of new adventures. And the more every year grows shorter as I age (inexplicable quantum physics!), the more I look forward to the variety out there to choose from.
We started with our only requirement being a stay at a hotel with an indoor pool. This novelty alone was enough to entertain our then-toddler, in the pre-Covid era. The first year we dined at Agricola in Princeton, all soaked in the warmth of the candlelit dining room, and ordered off a menu that offered a mix of traditional and nouveau. Everyone was thrilled to walk away from the table, and back to the hotel where no dishes or crammed refrigerator awaited in our turned-down room.
Another year, we went to Lancaster County and stayed at a resort with an indoor pool and hot tub so large, our now-tween son still says, ‘Remember how big that pool was?’ with adorable awe. Palm trees were tended indoors and the lush, humid, faux tropical air soothed what that year were very cold ears and toes during a particularly brisk November. We ate at a traditional Amish restaurant and enjoyed traditional Amish Thanksgiving. Back at the hotel, our rooms’ windows looked down onto the massive buffet. We were entertained by the snaking lines waiting for their slice of pumpkin pie or scoop of mashed potatoes.
Our favorite deviation so far has been pasta for Thanksgiving. During Covid, we canceled our planned trip to Boston and instead we stayed home and made spaghetti and meatballs, all from scratch. Pasta hung to dry as our little culinarian rolled meatballs, giving his individual touch: some tiny, some massive, all very forgiving in a velvety sauce simmering away on the stove top.
Once we were able to travel again, we sought out a pasta restaurant, open on Thanksgiving, near to a hotel with an indoor pool. At this point, it did dawn on me that the logistics were growing ever more complex … threatening to rival even those of planning a traditional holiday gathering and meal. But what we love is the novelty! The road trip! The new hotel (and pool!) to explore, a new neighborhood to run a Turkey Trot and let’s not forget that towns are fully lit in twinkling lights to walk under and capture for our own enviable Instagram posts.
By creating an intention that each year will be different, we have loved working together as a family to enjoy the discovery and adventure. The meal itself is important but not as much as being together and seeking out experiences that create memories for us to look back on and say, “Remember that one year … ”.
As we all toast to however we opt to spend these precious days, know that variety and tradition are not antonyms but rather harmonize like cranberries and casserole. And for that, I am very thankful.
*Caveat: Everything I have written above is only successful because I have agreed to a stipulation with my Thanksgiving-leftovers-loving husband. One night during the winter—a random Tuesday or Thursday or Sunday, usually in February, certainly before daylight savings time—I will make a full, commonly defined Thanksgiving spread guaranteed to provide leftovers for days, the one thing we can all agree on being worthy of expectations.
