Tradition has it that a Thanksgiving turkey dinner is not complete without cranberry sauce. Tradition also has it that every November, I find myself scratching my head, trying to reimagine cranberry sauce.
I have nothing against cranberries, mind you—nor a sauce, for that matter. I couldn’t imagine the holiday table without a heaping bowl of glistening ruby berries simmered into a tart compote. Yet each year, I make a cranberry sauce and present it at the table. And each year, I wrap up the sauce after our meal, nearly untouched, and store it in the refrigerator for goodness-knows-what future purpose. I am not sure if this is a problem unique to my family, or if it’s a hushed issue shared by others, too embarrassed to voice their cranberry dysfunction in public. Let me know if you have any insight.
