Stuffing, Not Suffering
Grateful for better turkey, simpler sides, and a stress-free Thanksgiving game plan.
The Turkey Wasn’t Supposed to Be Dry
I was a teenager before I discovered turkey wasn’t supposed to be dry. Growing up, we spent Thanksgiving at my dad’s parents’ house, and they were Seventh-day Adventist. (We’ll go deeper another time; if you’re curious now, Google away.) SDAs have an interesting relationship with meat and food in general. The orthodox folks are vegetarian—some vegan. The rest are meat-curious at some level, willing to stretch the faith a bit: the occasional hamburger, a casserole with ground beef, maybe pescatarian—though even then there were hard lines about shellfish and bottom dwellers versus the “chosen” fish like salmon and cod. (I guess Jesus taught people to catch those.)
But pork? Off limits. That’s one thing SDAs and Jules Winnfield from Pulp Fiction share—neither digs on swine. Even if it’s as charming as Arnold the pig from Green Acres.
So you can imagine handing my grandma a Thanksgiving turkey was like giving a 14-year-old the keys to your car and asking them to run an errand. They can probably reach the pedals, start the engine, and get down the street—but the rules of the road? Not so much. Same with someone who cooks meat only once or twice a year. You can kind of figure it out, but roasting a big bird for 10–20 people is a different game—especially when poultry is so easy to overcook.
Those were my first Thanksgiving memories. The nice thing about having vegetarian relatives is that side dishes shine. Most of the spread doesn’t need much tweaking—outside of a stuffing recipe that sneaks in sausage. And there’s no honey-baked ham trying to steal the turkey’s spotlight.
From Iron Chef to “Keep It Simple”
Fast-forward through years of hosting and being hosted, and things look different now. No more big crowds. Maybe another couple joins us. No more full Iron Chef routine where I make every side from scratch and spend all day in the kitchen. Bobby Flay can relax—I’m not coming for his belt.
These days I smoke a turkey, which is more than enough. The sides? Ordered from Whole Foods and picked up the day before.
As for “giving thanks” with a once-a-year life audit—that’s never been my style. I don’t need a single day to store up gratitude and release it all at once. I take inventory all year. If anything, since I got sick, I do it more. I’ve got time to think about what I’m thankful for, and why it matters.
Turkey Bowl Talk
Football on Thanksgiving is so much better now than when I was a kid. First, the Detroit Lions are good—really good. And it’s not just waiting for whoever the Cowboys play in the afternoon. About 20 years ago the football gods realized a lot of us needed one more game to escape our families, and they gave us a nightcap—usually a great matchup. We gave thanks.
Then online shopping exploded. A certain Seattle company named after a South American river made it possible to get packages while you were at work, no detour needed. They got so big they became a streaming giant and handed the NFL a giant bag of Prime money for Thursday Night Football—and then paid for a Black Friday game, too. Now you can watch football while Al Michaels tells you about doorbusters on his boss’s website. America!
My picks for this year’s football feast
Lions over the Packers — The Pride roars, Michigan rejoices.
Chiefs over the Cowboys — All the Swifties give thanks.
Bengals upset the Ravens — Joe Burrow’s comeback game.
Eagles over the Bears — And everyone at home impulse-buys noise-canceling headphones.
Happy Thanksgiving—and don’t overcook your bird.