What I like best about Thanksgiving. Also, the perfect pie for this moment. A crazily ambitious old menu. And the first offerings of the annual gift guide.
It’s a warm pleasure to read your blog, Ruth, and it feels almost as if I could remember these events, too, if only I somehow tried just a little harder. You have a wonderful way of sharing personal stories like an old friend, helping me to remember shared experiences that we had together. Lovely! Thank you. Happy Thanksgiving. Stephen Nagy, Clancy, Montana
I am so glad you had those lovely Thanksgiving memories—mine are...less warm and welcoming, except for the ten years or so when I fixed Thanksgiving dinner for my kid brother, my then-wife, her niece, and myself. Even though I don't think I ever got the turkey right (most years it was dry, except for the year I brined it while still frozen and it took so long to thaw that we ended up ordering out!), it felt homey and right.
Even the fleeing right after dinner to drive down to Maryland for an SF Con we were regular guests at felt right, somehow, along with the leftover turkey, potatoes and stuffing packed in a travel cooler to eat or share over the weekend.
This year, I'm going my best friend's house, only this time I'm bringing cherry pie and turkey leg quarters (she orders a turkey breast every year, and I really miss dark meat!).
I just loved this column--swelled my heart and made me laugh. For any of us older than 20, it's so true...we all have our ghosts, our extended families, and if we're lucky, they're friendly.
My sister sent me this column (I'd already read it) and we both agree that these ghosts are the best part of of Thanksgiving. We make many of the dishes that our Mom made, exactly the same just to taste and share the memories. Thank you for all that you write and especially for evoking these times in such a visceral way.
What a lovely, touching read. I, too, have had visiting spirits in my holiday prep kitchen, down the years from my proper Grandmother to my frequently improper chef son, whom we lost some years ago. I prepared the feast for decades, and in recent years I’ve enjoyed being my food stylist daughter-in-law’s attentive sous. This year my family is farther flung, so I’m escaping to Canada for a girls’ getaway, with no turkey involved. I know the memories of the many birds and sides, the aromas, the mishaps and triumphs will sneak across the border with me on The Day. I’ll miss the epic sandwich the next day, but not the mountain of dishes.
Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours, Ruth, and thank you for a really tasty read!
I absolutely loved your piece about all of the cooks in the kitchen with us. It is so true - my Grandma is right there at the stove, as if she never left, whipping the potatoes and asking everyone if they'd like a snack "to keep you happy until dinner is done." My great-grandmother is at the table, serving her homemade pumpkin pie, which was always a little lumpy but still delicious. My grandfather, pulling dollar bills out of his wallet to give to the children, sneaking bites of turkey. They are all long gone, but live in my memory - and in my kitchen - forever.
My sister and I are now usually guests at a cousins table. We make turkey with the sides we love to share with our ghosts the day before! This way we have the leftovers we love. Have a wonderful holiday, Ruth!!
I was in a hurry when I received that newsletter, so I kept it for when I had time (today). I felt it was special, and it is. Your ghosts make me think of Miss Colwin, who wrote, "No one who cooks, cooks alone." I feel the same. In my kitchen, I'm never alone. Around me, I always hear my ghosts talking. I know how lucky are the people who have lovely ghosts around them. Sadly, I will not be anyone's ghost, and to contrast this shadow, I started blogging, hoping to live in the kitchen of someone who will save a recipe of mine among theirs. Thank you Ruth. With love, Monica
Ruth, thank you for the lovely, evocative piece. Will you please share the recipe for the cranberry crostata you love? I'm tempted by your apple crumb pie with sour cream, but would love to see the crostata recipe, too! I planned, but am not settled on, doing my own riff on Chez Panisse Cafe's Apple and Brandied Currant Tart (my version is apple with cranberries and Chambord.) If you have time, thank you! Happy Thanksgiving from a very rain-soaked Santa Rosa, CA. Molly
Of all the many, many blogs of yours that have swept me away to my past, none has been so touching as this one. In the same vein, on the day I run into you somewhere, I will tell you that, for me, my Gourmet ghost is Caroline Bates who opened my eyes and pointed the way.
I'm with you; for me Caroline was always one of the best things about Gourmet, and when I was lucky enough to finally meet her, she was even better than I'd hoped. In the early days of Gourmet, when the magazine's offices were in one of New York's poshest hotels, she was known as "the pinko at the Plaza."
Here to say what so many others have, such a beautiful essay. You captured the feeling and experience my sister and I share every Thanksgiving. Thank you.
It’s a warm pleasure to read your blog, Ruth, and it feels almost as if I could remember these events, too, if only I somehow tried just a little harder. You have a wonderful way of sharing personal stories like an old friend, helping me to remember shared experiences that we had together. Lovely! Thank you. Happy Thanksgiving. Stephen Nagy, Clancy, Montana
I am so glad you had those lovely Thanksgiving memories—mine are...less warm and welcoming, except for the ten years or so when I fixed Thanksgiving dinner for my kid brother, my then-wife, her niece, and myself. Even though I don't think I ever got the turkey right (most years it was dry, except for the year I brined it while still frozen and it took so long to thaw that we ended up ordering out!), it felt homey and right.
Even the fleeing right after dinner to drive down to Maryland for an SF Con we were regular guests at felt right, somehow, along with the leftover turkey, potatoes and stuffing packed in a travel cooler to eat or share over the weekend.
This year, I'm going my best friend's house, only this time I'm bringing cherry pie and turkey leg quarters (she orders a turkey breast every year, and I really miss dark meat!).
I just loved this column--swelled my heart and made me laugh. For any of us older than 20, it's so true...we all have our ghosts, our extended families, and if we're lucky, they're friendly.
What a beautiful story. Thank you for sharing! P.S. That apple crumb pie looks divine!
My sister sent me this column (I'd already read it) and we both agree that these ghosts are the best part of of Thanksgiving. We make many of the dishes that our Mom made, exactly the same just to taste and share the memories. Thank you for all that you write and especially for evoking these times in such a visceral way.
What a lovely, touching read. I, too, have had visiting spirits in my holiday prep kitchen, down the years from my proper Grandmother to my frequently improper chef son, whom we lost some years ago. I prepared the feast for decades, and in recent years I’ve enjoyed being my food stylist daughter-in-law’s attentive sous. This year my family is farther flung, so I’m escaping to Canada for a girls’ getaway, with no turkey involved. I know the memories of the many birds and sides, the aromas, the mishaps and triumphs will sneak across the border with me on The Day. I’ll miss the epic sandwich the next day, but not the mountain of dishes.
Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours, Ruth, and thank you for a really tasty read!
I think this is one of the best of your essays yet - so beautiful. Wishing you, your family, and all of the ghosts a most wonderful Thanksgiving. <3
You had me at sorghum, but then I stayed for Bluegrass Soy Sauce (though I do miss the original blue bottles). Now you can make your own Kentuckyaki.
I absolutely loved your piece about all of the cooks in the kitchen with us. It is so true - my Grandma is right there at the stove, as if she never left, whipping the potatoes and asking everyone if they'd like a snack "to keep you happy until dinner is done." My great-grandmother is at the table, serving her homemade pumpkin pie, which was always a little lumpy but still delicious. My grandfather, pulling dollar bills out of his wallet to give to the children, sneaking bites of turkey. They are all long gone, but live in my memory - and in my kitchen - forever.
Perfection, as tears stream down my face. Thank you❤️
My sister and I are now usually guests at a cousins table. We make turkey with the sides we love to share with our ghosts the day before! This way we have the leftovers we love. Have a wonderful holiday, Ruth!!
I was in a hurry when I received that newsletter, so I kept it for when I had time (today). I felt it was special, and it is. Your ghosts make me think of Miss Colwin, who wrote, "No one who cooks, cooks alone." I feel the same. In my kitchen, I'm never alone. Around me, I always hear my ghosts talking. I know how lucky are the people who have lovely ghosts around them. Sadly, I will not be anyone's ghost, and to contrast this shadow, I started blogging, hoping to live in the kitchen of someone who will save a recipe of mine among theirs. Thank you Ruth. With love, Monica
Thanksgiving sounds lovely.
Ruth, thank you for the lovely, evocative piece. Will you please share the recipe for the cranberry crostata you love? I'm tempted by your apple crumb pie with sour cream, but would love to see the crostata recipe, too! I planned, but am not settled on, doing my own riff on Chez Panisse Cafe's Apple and Brandied Currant Tart (my version is apple with cranberries and Chambord.) If you have time, thank you! Happy Thanksgiving from a very rain-soaked Santa Rosa, CA. Molly
Of all the many, many blogs of yours that have swept me away to my past, none has been so touching as this one. In the same vein, on the day I run into you somewhere, I will tell you that, for me, my Gourmet ghost is Caroline Bates who opened my eyes and pointed the way.
I'm with you; for me Caroline was always one of the best things about Gourmet, and when I was lucky enough to finally meet her, she was even better than I'd hoped. In the early days of Gourmet, when the magazine's offices were in one of New York's poshest hotels, she was known as "the pinko at the Plaza."
Here to say what so many others have, such a beautiful essay. You captured the feeling and experience my sister and I share every Thanksgiving. Thank you.