The fourth Thursday in November is Thanksgiving. (Incidentally, this is my excuse for the lack of blogging last Wednesday, as I was busy dry-brining my turkey.) This is one of the more historic of American holidays, dating originally from when the Pilgrims celebrated their first harvest in the “New World”in 1621. From then it has gradually developed into the eating and shopping binge that we know and love today.
When I first started in the bullion market in London in the late 2000s, Thanksgiving was known for a brokerage company hosting a particularly drunken party with some staggeringly inappropriate vodka luges. Since the financial crisis, that all stopped and most City folk in London just take advantage of the US markets being closed to head home early, normally via the pub.
Over here, it’s a major event. I’ve always thought that because Boxing Day is never a holiday in the US, whilst the Friday after Thanksgiving often is, Thanksgiving feels like a more important holiday than Christmas. It’s certainly got most of the trappings associated with a European Christmas: turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce, roast vegetables, and so on. But I don’t get the obsession with pumpkins. What is it with pumpkin pie? Ugh! I’d much rather have pecan pie.
In fact, Thanksgiving dinner even merits its own Wikipedia page. I was a bit English about the whole thing: there was no mac & cheese (heresy in the South, I know) and the sweet potatoes were fairly simple – some recipes call for cooking them with molasses, or even with marshmallows! I also failed to garnish anything with bacon. Finally – what is the authentic way to cook a turkey? There are pages and pages written about the relative merits of wet vs dry brining (dry is better), the best way to cook it (spatchcocking is apparently the best, so long as you have some butchery skills) and so on. One of our neighbours was extolling the virtues of deep frying – which seems to be as crazy as it sounds. Basically you drop an entire turkey into a vat of bubbling oil and wait a while. And whilst we are on the subject of all things crazy… turducken. It might be delicious – but I just can’t see past the “turd”.
Still, I think – or hope – that everyone enjoyed the meal. And the four days of turkey afterwards (note to self: make the carcass into stock).
South of the Mason-Dixon line 