Present:This Thanksgiving will start as most of our celebrations do - with a cheese platter. Simple. Although my family had a difficult year, there is much to be thankful for. There always is. Our traditions have evolved over the years and they are evolving now. I am reminded of my Italian-Thanksgivings in New York - when I first brought Paul to meet the Italian family.
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Past:
Shortly after my marriage to a Minnesotan, I decided he needed to experience a New York City, Italian-American holiday season. We settled on Thanksgiving because it segues into the holidays and New York dresses for the holiday ball.
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Thanksgiving Dinner would be at Aunt Fay and Uncle Canteo's - four blocks from where I grew up in the borough of Queens. We arrived about 2 p.m. An assortment of cheeses (provolone, Parmigiano-Reggiano, asiago, gorgonzola and inexplicably some French brie), olives, meats (prosciutto, salame, mortadella) and shrimp was spread out with breadsticks, crackers and breads. And we all ate. Sharp, earthy nutty cheeses imported from Italy. Fat-laden luscious aged salami hand-picked by my aunt from her carefully selected Italian deli. None ate with more vigor than my 6'4" Midwestern husband. I told him to pace himself. But he was in Italian-appetizer heaven. Round 1 of the Thanksgiving Day feast.
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Things went well. There were 16 of us. Nobody was late so Aunt Fay hadn't threatened to throw the dinner in the garbage.
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Wine and cocktails were freely dispersed and hours later, we sat down to dinner. Out came the ravioli. Round 2 of the Thanksgiving feast flew around the table. Huge squares of plump cheese-stuffed pillows of pasta swimming in an herb-filled, savory tomato sauce. "Did anyone want seconds?" My husband raised his hand. He wondered why nobody else did. An hour later, my husband whispered that although the food was excellent, he had hoped for turkey on Thanksgiving Day.
Present:Thanksgiving is 4 days away and I haven't yet decided if I will serve pasta. Ravioli is sounding very good - maybe with butter and sage. Or a simple spaghetti. Do you think the red sauce is too much? I may not decide until Thursday morning.
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Past:
The gargantuan and now empty ravioli platter was whisked away and out came a turkey larger than the wee ones at the table. Lusciously browned and stuffed with savory herbs, sausage and fat-soaked bread cubes. Nobody was terribly hungry but the aromas and appearance of the Thanksgiving turkey whetted appetites. The dining table and sideboard groaned under yams, mashed potatoes, gravies, two types of stuffing, carrots, mushrooms and a proper salad. Round 3.
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Everything was devoured. All chatted noisily and then there would be sudden silence - the sound of 16 people chewing. There would be one big swallow and then the clattering chatter would begin anew. Until something new was speared and eaten.
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As a newly-minted family member, my husband was passed platters again and again. And he ate - again and again. And finally one could see he was finally caving under the pressure. A small sigh before a bite. A forkful slowly going into his mouth. The eagerness was waning. An Italian feast is not for the faint of heart.
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Female cousins cleared the dining room table as male cousins found refuge on the couch. Unable to move, my husband stayed at the table with Uncle Cantaneo while freshly roasted chestnuts appeared. To cleanse the palate? My uncle cracked open a chestnut and presented my husband with the meat. Again and again. After thirty minutes, the chestnuts were consumed. Signalling the start of Round 4.
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Present: Last year, the turkey was made with an salted-clementine zest rub. This year, it will either be with a rosemary garlic paste or a thyme-butter rub with ginger gravy. I'm not sure. I may have an entire new idea by tomorrow.
Present:
Pumpkin-mascarpone pie. That will happen. Luscious - your all-American scattering of autumn pumpkin pie spices enriched and deepened with some dollops of mascarpone. Find the recipe here. And then there will be a chocolate pecan pie or a cranberry upside down cake or an apple pie or all of them. I'll decide on Wendesday.
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Past:
As Italian-Americans, Thanksgiving has always been a day to honor America. My grandmother was fiercely proud of her citizenship papers and passed that love to her children. So in honor of America, the stars and stripes and Thanksgiving Day, out came the pumpkin pie, the mince pie and the pecan pie. And because the family is Italian, a ricotta cheese cake, cannolis and other assorted pastries. For sixteen people. Two of whom were under the age of eight. My husband tried everything.
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It's a meal I'd love to emulate. But the days of four aunts cooking for a week in the kitchen are now part of our family lore. The excess has been scaled down. Pasta before the turkey dinner is slowly disappearing. But on that Thanksgiving Day, we understood what a true feast was. In the grand Italian tradition, breaking bread together equals love. And we were fed love for years. Even if someone "threatened to cut your heart out" or "throw out the lamb," - we got it. We still do.
Italian Cranberries?
Present:
Disclosure: Yes, the photo was taken with a flash. This is November in Minnesota. I may not be able to take a sunny picture until January. When it will be minus fifteen degrees out. I take advice very well if someone wants to help me through my "taking photos of food with a flash" challenge.
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Back to the cranberries:
I'm sure you know about all the hidden cranberry bogs in Italy. Or not. When you're determined - you can make almost any recipe Italian. I came upon a recipe from Bon Appetit and played.
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Cranberries in Marsala Wine
- 12 oz bag - WI cranberries or other cranberries
- 1 cup dry Marsala wine
- 1-1/4 cups sugar
- 1 cup pomegranate seeds (optional - adds extra tartness)
- 1 tablespoons Pomegranate syrup
- 2 tablespoons Italian herbs
- garnish: chopped toasted pecans, lemon zest, orange zest
Stir to dissolve the sugar in the wine. Heat till boiling and boil down to 1 cup, stirring occasionally. (About ten minutes.) Stir in cranberries and pomegranates. Bring to boil and boil till cranberries pop and sauce thickens. (about eight minutes.) Boil down to desired consistency.
Remove from heat and stir in pomegranate syrup and Italian seasoning. Can be made one week ahead. Cover in airtight container and store in fridge. Bring to room temperature before serving. Optional: Top with chopped, toasted pecans or lemon and orange zest.
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Future: Just as I adapted from my NYC Thanksgivings of my youth to my Thanksgiving traditions in Minnesota: 2 Thanksgivings
a. Midwestern, chaotic and traditional farm-fare food the afternoon with 18 nieces and nephews followed by
b. a smaller, somewhat Italian one in the evenings ...we adapt again.
`There will be one less person at my dinner table on Thursday who is greatly missed and deeply loved. We will celebrate with turns of merriment and wistfulness. With thanks for all those past Thanksgivings that taught both me and my family the importance of coming together. Gratitude is to be practiced every day.
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And continuing with that sentiment, I wish you all a Happy Thanksgiving. May you always have grace and thanks at your table.
`I have been tagged by the lovely and creative Sophie of Sophie Foodiefiles and I will respond after Thanksgiving. After I make up my mind as to the menu (input desired!) and done with the cooking and the dishes are washed and put away and the table is broken down and I am happily writing while sending everyone to the fridge for leftovers.
