Staff Editorial: Holiday table’s sore thumb should can it
We’re going to assume that most students on this campus observe the Thanksgiving holiday in some fashion.
What that means to you is up in the air. You could consider it a chance to catch up with friends and family and gorge yourself on food in a uniquely American fashion, or you might see the day as an opportunity to recognize the horrors of colonialism and native genocide. Look, we really don’t care.
What we’re about to tell you transcends political and idealogical boundaries.
If you’re sitting down for Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow night, take a moment to look at the contents of the groaningly overloaded table. Do you see condiments? How about condiments other than gravy?
You’re probably going to see cranberry sauce—after all, it’s a critical component of any traditional Thanksgiving meal. It accompanies and enhances the flavors of nearly every dish on the table, even if the combinations seem a little weird at first. Try it sometime and let us know that we’re right. We’ll wait.
The problem America faces when it comes to this ubiquitous holiday condiment is in its method of delivery. There is a divide across this great nation, and it’s not about red states and blue states—but rather red sauce and better red sauce.
Half of this country, when they think of cranberry sauce, see a gelatinous mass of can-shaped cranberry plasma. It’s so firm, you can cut it into gross, shiny slices.
There’s something fundamentally wrong with this, considering the nuanced flavors afforded by proper treatment of the humble cranberry.
The other half of the country knows this. They know that slaving away over a complex, homemade meal only to pop a can and flop its contents over the fruits of your hard work is a great disservice to your labors and your palate.
Instead, they make their own cranberry sauce, using a recipe that’s barely one step simpler than opening a can. The rewards of making your own sauce—a sauce that can be served with a spoon and cooked to your own preferences of sweet and tart with ease—should be self-evident, but for the half of this nation that isn’t enlightened, we’re providing the recipe for perfection.
Even if it’s too late for the integrity of your cranberry sauce this year, at least you won’t make the same mistake 12 months from now.
We hope you have a happy and delicious Thanksgiving, America—you no longer have any excuse not to.
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