Corned Beef for Thanksgiving: An Unofficial Case Study

Don’t get me wrong: I like turkey.

I just don’t like cooking it.

I use ground turkey regularly, turkey breast cutlets from time to time.

But a whole turkey? That’s a different story.

They take weeks to defrost and days to cook.

Who has that kind of time and patience?

Not moi.

Even the smallest turkey takes forever.

And leftovers? Don’t get me started.

If we were a large family, or were having lots of people over, that would be a different story.

There would just be three of us: my mom, her good friend Pat, and me. Julian was going to be spending the holiday with his family in Albuquerque. So, it was me and two senior citizens who had small appetites.

I also would have been the only one cleaning up afterward.

So, there’s that.

If we’d had a full Thanksgiving, there would be more leftovers than I could contemplate.

Isn’t that the biggest bane of cooks everywhere: wondering what to do with all the turkey leftovers? There are only so many turkey sandwiches, only so much turkey soup, tetrazzini, a la king, and casseroles that one can eat over the course of a few days that the leftover turkey is still good. Usually by the week after Thanksgiving, everyone is sick of turkey until next Thanksgiving rolls around.

So, yes, there’s a freezer to store portions of a huge pot of soup that I might make (and was the only one who’d clean it up).

We were never a big turkey dinner family. At least, not a turkey meal family. I know lots of people don’t have the courage to say this out loud, but turkey is way down the list on things that are the best part of Thanksgiving dinner.

Then, as if just wondering what to do with it all isn’t enough, one must decide how to cook it: bake, roast, or deep-fry? Hot oil is not your friend even when it’s just a few teaspoons, much less gallons, which is what one needs to deep-fry a turkey — not to mention all the accidents and fires people have while trying to deep-fry the bird. I am not the sort of guy to fix up some sort of rig to deep-fry a turkey in a bucket while standing in cold, windy conditions in my backyard. Even our dogs don’t want to stand outside that long—they just want to do their business and go curl back up with their blanket and pillow on the couch.

Same.

That leaves me roast or bake, either of which has its own set of problems, often resulting in overcooking the bird. So, then, not only do you have overdone bird for Thanksgiving dinner, but you also have a week’s worth of leftovers made with overdone bird. Blech!

On top of all that comes the endless trimmings: stuffing, potatoes (sweet or regular, mashed or baked), casseroles, cranberry sauce, gravies, and pies.

Oh, so much work.

And oh, so much clean up afterward.

Again, nothing wrong with it all, unless you’re a small group, and, when two of the three people are seniors, it means that the one remaining individual (me) does all the cooking and the cleaning up. We don’t have a dishwasher, so it’s all washed and dried by hand.

Yeah.

Just me.

Cooking and cleaning. Makes for much crankiness when all is said and done.

And I’m trying to give up cocktails at home — so more crankiness.

Keeping all that in mind, I started thinking about what to make. I thought about things that my mom really liked, and things her friend really liked, and then it came to me: corned beef and cabbage.

Yes, I can see your blank stare from here.

No, I have not gotten any more senile, and I realize it’s Thanksgiving, not St. Patrick’s Day.

But, really, I ask you: where’s the law that says turkey is only for Thanksgiving, and corned beef is only for St. Pat’s?

The strangest part of the whole thing has been people’s reaction when we say we’re having corned beef and cabbage for Thanksgiving. People stop cold in their tracks. They look at us like I’ve let out the stinkiest fart they’ve ever smelt.

I mean really.

It’s not as if I’ve announced our sudden conversion to cannibalism. It’s a corned beef, people, not a human liver (with a side of fava beans and some chianti).

Thanksgiving isn’t about turkey; it’s about coming together, sharing a meal with friends and family, and being thankful for all the good things in our lives. Besides, with all the work that goes into turkey and all the trimmings, you’re so tired by the time you sit at the table you’re not fully in the moment. Corned beef and cabbage is a one-pot meal that requires little work to prepare: chop up potatoes and carrots, slice some cabbage, put everything in a pot, put it in the oven, and three to four hours later: done! One pot, one knife, and some tongs and a spoon to clean up. Believe me, when I sat down to eat, I was totally in the moment and wasn’t thinking about how long it was going to take to clean up. I was able to enjoy the meal and the company.

Yes, I understand that turkey and the fixin’s are a part of the tradition. But maybe, just maybe, we all could do with a bit more individuality. Why do we do turkey just because it’s what’s expected? Think about those foods that your families and friends love — those are the things we should serve (and if it’s turkey, so be it). Because, ultimately, it’s not about the particular kind of food that you serve; it’s the love that goes into it, it’s the love with which it’s enjoyed, and it’s the love that’s shared when you’re together, enjoying a special meal together.