Cranberry Salad

What does your family do for Thanksgiving? Up until a couple of years ago, my immediate family would drive from northern Virginia to Maryland for Thanksgiving Day lunch with my mother’s family. My uncles, aunts, cousins, and grandparents were always in attendance. Even my older relatives, like my great uncles and great aunts, would make their way to share in the festivities. Everyone would bring a side, entree, or dessert, so there was a lot of food to choose from.

I was a very picky eater when I was a child, so I let most of the dishes pass by me. My mom would ask me, “Sweet potato casserole Bryan?” “No thanks,” I would sullenly reply. “Succotash honey?” “I don’t like lima beans.” “Bryan, you should try the stuffing!” “Eew! Do you know where that’s been?” I was picky to the degree that I wouldn’t even eat the turkey, a stark contrast to my carnivorous diet today. My Thanksgiving meal consisted of soggy green beans, lightly buttered corn, and dense pumpkin pie laden with vanilla ice cream.

I was all in all content with this meal. My mother, however, was embarrassed that I would not try more of the food my relatives had arduously prepared. I insensitively quipped that one could clearly tell half the food was store bought, but that certainly didn’t stop my mom from insisting I eat more. She imposed a new precondition to eating dessert: I had to try what she deemed was an acceptable number of new foods. This was a terrifying prospect to a picky little kid, but I really wanted some “homemade” pumpkin pie, so I searched the dinner table for something edible.

I picked out the foods on the table that looked like they would have only one flavor. First, I tried the turkey that I had previously stuck my nose up at earlier. It was dry and flaky, with very little flavor: not great but also not horrible. I deemed the bird edible. The next thing I tried was cranberry sauce. I chose this dish because it was similar in color and texture to red beets, which I had eaten before. My spoonful of maroon translucent jelly tasted interestingly bitter, but satisfyingly sweet before it melted in my mouth. I enjoyed all of what I had put on my plate and added it to the list of foods I could eat in the future.

Though I had somewhat enjoyed my voyage into the unknown, I was tired of the games. I wanted to eat some pie and wrap up the Thanksgiving festivities. “You have to try one more thing before you stuff your face with pie,” my mother established in response to my jittering. I ran up and down the table and between the legs of my older relatives searching for something that would go down easy so I could break into the pie. However, everything I saw had garnish or diced this or that as decoration, which didn’t appeal to me.

My grandmother then waddled over to me and suggested, “ If you liked the cranberry sauce, you should try the cranberry salad.” I was immediately skeptical. Salad? I had never eaten a salad before. That was the food my food ate to become food. The idea of eating something that blended so many foreign flavors together was preposterous, and I made that as clear as a little kid could. In the middle end of my long winded scoff, my grandmother told me I should reconsider and lifted a bowl off of the table.

I peered over the rim and was surprised to see no leafy greens, red onions, or any other “rabbit food.” What I saw was a red coagulated mass with maroon floating chunks. Jello! This was a side dish? It looked more like a dessert. I did an about face, asked for a scoop, and held out my plate.

I lifted a gooey spoonful of the gelatinous blob into my mouth. In that moment, I felt like I had really pulled one over on my mom. I was trying some new food that my grandmother made, but at the same time, I was just eating dessert. I tasted the bitter and firm cranberries contrast with the jiggling jello. There was something else in there, something with an intermediate texture and feel, but I couldn’t put my finger on what it was. I later learned it was pineapple. The clouds parted and a pillar of sunlight fell upon that bowl of cranberry salad. As soon as I was through with what was on my plate, I spooned out half the bowl for myself. I don’t think I ate any pie that Thanksgiving.

After a few years, my grandmother decided she was too old to host Thanksgiving at her house. This meant that my she would no longer make my coveted cranberry salad. I just couldn’t have that, so I asked my grandmother for the recipe. My mother and I made the cranberry salad that year and the few years following.

Unfortunately, for the past couple of years, there has been no cranberry salad at my Thanksgiving table. Fewer and fewer places were set to a point many of my relatives didn’t feel it was worth cooking an entire Thanksgiving meal. Instead, they elected for my family to go to a local restaurant and dine on their holiday buffet. These meals were not enjoyable.

This past November, I was to be one of the empty seats at the dinner table. I had no plans of coming home in the early days of the month, much to my mother’s dismay; she was upset that I would be spending Thanksgiving alone. She missed making the cranberry salad with me. Cranberry salad. I had almost forgotten about cranberry salad. It had been a few years since we made it. If she hadn’t mentioned that to me, I probably would have spent Thanksgiving alone with a ribeye. Instead, I decided to pull some shenanigans.

I intentionally painted her a bleak picture of my Thanksgiving arrangements. “Yeah, all my roommates are flying home for the holidays. I might do something, but I haven’t made plans yet. No, it would be impractical to come home for such a short time. I need to study for my Differential Equations final.” I also managed to subtly pick up my family’s Thanksgiving plans during my phone calls. They were planning to eat dinner at a little restaurant in Emmitsburg, Maryland at 5:00 on Thanksgiving Day.

On the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, I gathered some ingredients, borrowed my friend’s food processor, and made cranberry salad by myself for the first time. I was largely unhindered in making the recipe in a dorm kitchen. I had all of the equipment I needed, aside from the borrowed food processor, in my dorm already: a pot, a mixing bowl, a large spoon, a measuring cup, and a stove.The only conceivable problem one might have when making this dish in a dorm, is fridge space. I took $100 out of my savings account, packed a weekend bag and made sure I got a good night’s sleep.

Early on Wednesday morning, I drove my friend to the airport in Birmingham, and started making my way toward the restaurant in Maryland. In order to avoid being tracked through my debit card, I used cash when I stopped for gas. I drove for about fourteen hours before making it to Emmitsburg, arriving eighteen hours before dinner.

I killed the next day doing homework in a nearby Starbucks. When 5:00 came around, I drove over to the restaurant and parked behind the building. I picked up my cranberry salad, walked into the restaurant, and asked the hostess where the “Joy” party was sitting. I was directed to go upstairs to the buffet section. I spotted my mom using tongs to pick up some green beans, her back to me. As I crept over, a few of my relatives, including my Dad saw me, disbelief painted their faces, “Has your mom seen you yet?” “Not yet,” I replied.

I tapped my mom on the shoulder. She turned around, her face awestruck. I held up the bowl of cranberry salad to show her.”Surprise!” I barely had enough time to put it down again before she embraced me in a spine-crushing hug.

Cranberry Salad holds a dear place in my heart, so naturally I wanted to make it again. This proved to be problematic the second time in my dorm. My friend no longer had a food processor, and so I no longer had access to one.  In need of a food processor, I went to Target and bought the cheapest one I could find.

The main ingredient, fresh cranberries, are hard to come by in January. Neither Publix nor The Fresh Market carries them. I modified the recipe by substituting strawberries for cranberries. Below are the recipes for cranberry salad, and strawberry salad.

This substitution had a few complications. Firstly, knowing that strawberries are much sweeter than cranberries, I decided to cut down on the added sugar. My other problem was that strawberries are much softer than cranberries. When I tried to chop strawberries in a food processor, I ended up with the baby food. That was no good, so I ended up with a bunch of strawberries I had to dice, a cup full of baby food, and plans for smoothies.

Cranberry Salad/Strawberry Salad

• 12 oz. cranberries/ 20 oz strawberries
• 20 oz crushed pineapple
• 1 ½ cups of sugar/ 1 ⅓ cups of sugar
• 4 cups of water

1. Chop/dice cranberries/strawberries.
2. Squeeze most of the moisture out of the pineapple. Drain and discard juice.
3. Boil 2 cups of water.
4. Add jello to boiling water. Stir until powder is dissolved.
5. Add sugar, cranberries/strawberries, water, jello, and pineapple to a mixing bowl.
6. Stir until thoroughly mixed.
7. Refrigerate mixture for 5 hours.