Paul Cappiello| Yew Dell Botanical Gardens
My wife and I were recently talking about our lack of plans for the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday. Like most, ours will be a small affair —the two of us, two service dogs in training and Toby the killer cat. There may be a bit of football or Netflix on the TV, maybe a bike ride and a nap or two.Probably not all that different from many other coronavirus-era Thanksgivings around town.
But at some point during the conversation she crossed the line.“I guess we’ll get the smallest turkey we can find at Kroger” she opined.
"Heck no!"I replied (OK, I didn’t actually use the word "heck.") "I’m getting the biggest darned bird I can find (OK, once again, I didn’t use the word “darned.”)She flashed that quizzical look and asked why.
“Leftovers!”
I’m guessing the original Plymouth settlers and their Native American guests back in 1621 did a pretty good job of polishing off their feast. Probably not a whole lot of leftovers after three days of binge eating. But that early menu likely didn’t look like today’s feast. So what exactly did they eat ... and not eat?
First off, there’s the turkey. While it likely didn’t much resemble today’s gargantuan-proportioned, white-feathered affair, the turkey was certainly part of the day’s offering. But it wasn’t the penultimate, revered star of the show. It would have certainly been served along with venison, mussels, clams, dried fish and even eels (I can hear it now, “who wants to bring the eels next year?") There would have been a goose or two, some ducks and, believe it or not, even the now-extinct passenger pigeon.
Most would have been boiled. Apparently, there weren’t enough whole bird deep fryers available at the time.
Then we move on to the starches.
Potatoes ... sorry, no luck here. The Andean white potato (Solanum tuberosum) didn’t become widespread in North America until well into the 1700s. And the sweet potato (Ipomea batatas), had not yet made its trek from the tropical Americas, through the Caribbean and eventually to New England.
No potatoes and gravy for Thanksgiving? I’m already making up my excuses. “Sorry, can’t make the big feast. Have to sharpen my adze and hew a few logs for the new cabin before winter sets in ...”
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Then there’s the whole bean thing. Yes, I know I’ll probably insult some of you green bean fans out there, but I’ve got bad news. The local chief and his crew didn’t’ show up looking for a can opener so they could add the cream of mushroom soup to their fresh green beans. More likely they enjoyed dried beans in soup and such. But honestly, if you have a bunch of passenger pigeons on the table, who needs bean soup?
But there are also some unique carbohydrates that have gradually diminished in importance on the Thanksgiving table. Nuts. Sure, many people still buy a sealed bag of those mixed “nuts” found in grocery stores. But they’re so dried out and bland nobody actually eats them. They’re just decoration.
Back before the introduction of Dutch elm disease, the American chestnut (Castanea dentata) was the dominant nut-bearing tree in the eastern parts of North America. Along with various walnuts (Juglans species) and hickory nuts (Carya species), these would have been roasted, stuffed into a bird (one description indicates the first stuffing was just a big wad of chestnuts) or cooked in porridge.
And then there’s corn. With little wheat being grown in the colonies at that point, corn would have been the primary carbohydrate showing up in breads and porridges. And lest you be picturing a big old bowl of nice, fluffy and creamy, light colored grits, this porridge would more likely have been the color of dirt —coming from the multi-colored corn grown at the time. But still, a good batch of cornbread, regardless of color, can only improve a meal.
Now on to a personal favorite as well as a point of contention around Thanksgiving tables from coast to coast —cranberries (Vaccinium macrocarpon). Bad news here — there was no cranberry sauce at the first Thanksgiving. On the bright side, that means no argument about jelled versus whole berry —an argument that ruined many a family gathering over the centuries. But the tradition of boiling cranberries with sugar to create a sauce wouldn’t hit Main Street for another 50 or so years. My question, then, “how do you eat a turkey sandwich the next day if there’s no cranberry sauce to spread on the bread?”
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Finally, we come to the dessert course. Surely pumpkin pie is one thing that has remained pure to its 1621 roots. We know the local tribes cultivated pumpkins at the time along with all kinds of squash. Well, Thanksgiving bummer among bummers ... no pumpkin pie. Certainly, they ate pumpkin in some way —probably roasted and mashed or cubed and added to a stew, but with no wheat (flour) and little to no butter available, there was no crust. And sugar was a precious and rare commodity at the time.
No potatoes to soak up the gravy. No cranberry sauce. No pumpkin pie. This is getting painful. So how did we get to where we are today?
The answer to that question is complex and varied, but there is one central figure we have to thank for the modern-day Thanksgiving mystique.
Sarah Josepha Hale was one of 19th century America’s prime arbiters of taste and popular culture. Even a brief discussion of her accomplishments would take up half this paper’s pages, but she was a force to be sure. A 40-year editor of Godey’s Lady’s Book, she and the publication set domestic trends across the US in everything from architecture to entertaining, fashion, food and more. She personally lobbied more than a dozen US presidents up until 1863 when Abraham Lincoln finally relented and established Thanksgiving as the national holidayHale promoted to build unity among a divided country and strengthen the family unit.
She published more than 40 books of fiction, culture and poetry, one containing her best-known children’s poem, Mary’s Lamb (now known as "Mary Had a Little Lamb," the words of which were the first-ever recorded by a young inventor by the name of Thomas Edison!)
And so today I’m thankful for Mrs. Hale, for her big, plump turkey, her potatoes and gravy, cranberry sauce ... and of course ... for her pumpkin pie.
Yew Dell Botanical Gardens, 6220 Old Lagrange Road,yewdellgardens.org.
Yuletide at Yew Dell
What:An enhanced light display with photoopportunities on the lighted path, shopping, take-home craft for kids and Santa at Yew Dell Botanical Gardens.Presented byCommonwealth Bank & Trust Company and T-Mobile.
Where:Yew Dell Botanical Gardens, 6220 Old La Grange Road
When:Nov. 27-29; Dec. 4-6, 4:30 and 6:15 p.m.
More information:Due to COVID-19, Yew Dell isscheduling timed tickets with a capacity of 100 for social distancing.Tickets must be purchased in advance. Children 5 and younger are free, but they require a ticket for entry. Tickets start at $10, $5 for ages 6-17, free for ages 5 and younger; members, $7, $3 for ages 6-17. 502-241-4788;yewdellgardens.org.
