Food Issues? At Thanksgiving?

With family and food being two of my favorite things in life, it figures that I love Thanksgiving. Yet every year at this time, I realize anew that I have issues -- food issues, to be exact -- with this holiday. Here are the main ones (there's more, but I'll spare you):

Issue 1: Turkey Talk Overload

Has any bird in the history of the world generated so much discussion? Every fall, we're bombarded with a sea of information on how to properly select, store, prepare, season, cook and carve the Thanksgiving bird. I feel irresponsible somehow if I ignore it all and "just cook the bird the way Mom showed me" growing up. The past few years, I have consumed hoards of information about our friend, the gobbler: articles on distinctions between turkey types, television programs on brining procedures, online videos demonstrating carving techniques. I've downloaded turkey safety checklists and even ensured the Turkey Hot-line number was by the phone. (Turns out it's not a resource for those depressed about hosting Thanksgiving). These days, balancing work and a toddler, who has the time for such turkey obsession?

Issue 2: Bird guts in the morning

Before becoming a Mom, I could think of nothing more disgusting in the morning than getting up, sticking one's hands into a bird cavity, and pulling out a bag of its former innards. Since becoming a Mom, I've dealt with way smellier, messier morning diaper rituals. You'd think I become tougher, but holding turkey guts before I've even had my morning coffee still makes me shudder.

Issue 3: Thanksgiving as a test of my fitness and sociability

I may be a good cook with a couple of years of culinary classes under my belt, but I've come to the conclusion that I lack proper Thanksgiving fitness training. Essentially, Thanksgiving is the equivalent of two types of races, back to back. First you complete the long-distance marathon of planning, shopping, chopping and prepping for days (the part of the race I usually handle in efficient fashion). Second, you complete an intense sprint right before dinner is served. Every year, I cruise along well throughout the day long cook-a-thon and when I get to the final half hour, I try to pull it off with grace. Every year, I fail miserably. Guests watch as I transform from amiable hostess to bug-eyed, sweating, and hyperventilating crazy lady. It is not unusual to hear me barking: "Please get out of my kitchen, now! I'm trying to mash potatoes/carve a turkey/make gravy/keep everything hot!" By the time I sit at the table, they are looking at me like a person on a ledge. It's not pretty.

Issue 4: Public shaming over cranberry sauce preferences

Yup, I'll admit it. In my youth, I loved listening to the "thwock" sound as the cranberry sauce can let go of its death grip on that mass of gelled cranberry. I liked the can-made ridges on this cranberry log (perfect slicing guides!) and cutting up my cranberry slices into little pie shaped pieces. Heck, it just wasn't Thanksgiving without this stuff. Today, I mostly keep quiet about my taste for canned cranberry sauce, shamed by the titters and scorn I hear about this food product. Yes, I had my adult awakening years back that homemade, whole berry cranberry sauce was a superior dish, one I now dutifully make each year. But inside, I pout, secretly missing that "thwock" sound every Thanksgiving.

Issue 5: I want my Mommy's stuffing.

In general, my cooking philosophy is "Experiment! Be creative! Try new things!" Yet when it comes to Thanksgiving, I am a rigid little girl with tunnel vision: I want what I want, and I want my Mommy's stuffing. It was the most basic of recipes she made all those years - with French bread croutons, fresh sage and other herbs, celery, onion, broth, butter, and extra flavor from a "small amount of cooked minced giblets cut so fine you kids won't even see them". And since Mom came from the "of course you stuff the bird" generation, those scoops of extra moist stuffing were mixed in with the pan stuffing. For me, the result was all that is gloriously delicious and comforting about Thanksgiving.

Oh, how I've tried to expand my stuffing horizons since. I've tasted other people's "family favorite stuffing" and poured over cookbooks, seeking new flavor profiles to try myself. Cornbread, sausage, chorizo, kale, pecans, oysters, spinach, cranberries, mushrooms, pancetta, artichokes, chestnuts -- I've played with all of them, but it doesn't matter. I want my Mommy's stuffing. And when I don't get it, well...I have issues.

Photo: my Thanksgiving spread 2009: Citrus and herb brined/roasted turkey (moist!); sweet potato casserole with pecan topping, sauteed shaved brussel sprouts with almonds and lemon; green beans, mashed potatoes, rolls, pan gravy, artichoke/parmesan stuffing (a yummy runner-up but still not Mommy's stuffing!) and whole cranberry sauce. Sigh.