The Catskill Chronicle

By Jude Waterston

Things change with time. I can’t get over the Thanksgiving metamorphosis that has transpired over the years and brought me to where I am today. I can barely recall the times when I was young that my family spent viewing the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade from the window of a skyscraper office to which my father had access. After watching the floats pass and the giant cartoon character balloons bob by, we would head down to Chinatown for a feast devoid of turkey, sweet potatoes, and stuffing. We gave thanks for egg rolls, spareribs, and lobster Cantonese.

Later, after my mother died (when I was twenty) and my father misguidedly married a woman with a nasty streak and two small children, my sister and I became orphans of a sort and spent a few Thanksgivings with close family friends who took us in. The one year my father’s wife deemed it suitable to invite me and my siblings to share in her family’s celebration, we were presented with a capon, of all things.

After my father’s divorce, things got back to normal for a while. My dad, sister, Janet, and I went to Philadelphia to spend the holiday with my brother’s family. Wendy, my sister-in-law, and I discussed recipes and planned the menu weeks before the event, and everyone in the family contributed something. We were together again and there was much to be thankful for.

Then things took a bizarre turn for reasons ranging from scheduling difficulties, job responsibilities, and a couple of overly stress-filled Thanksgivings. The following holidays were spent willy-nilly. One November found us dining, oddly enough, at my father’s favorite Spanish restaurant in Queens. The paella some had was divine; the traditional Thanksgiving menu I insisted upon was a bust. A year later, we were back in Philly. The next, my sister, dad, and I were eating a bird of an entirely different feather at the Peking Duck House on Mott Street in Manhattan’s Chinatown.

Three months later my dad suffered a debilitating stroke and never regained use of his left leg, leaving him confined to a wheelchair and living in a nursing home on Long Island which daily serves mostly inedible food. Last year, while trying desperately to grasp onto something to be thankful for, I decided to awake mind-numbingly early Thanksgiving Day and prepare all the fixings to bring to dad at the Home. Janet and I planned to share the meal, later, in a more leisurely fashion in the comfort of her apartment.

So I awoke at 6:00am and prepared oven-roasted turkey thighs; herbed mushroom stuffing; spiced cranberry relish; steamed broccoli; and sweet potatoes and pears seasoned with ground ginger, allspice, and nutmeg, baked with a drizzle of maple syrup and heavy cream. Janet and I brought this mini version of the feast to my dad, as well as a portion for his tablemate, Vincenza, and we cracked open a small bottle of wine and clicked our plastic cups together.

This year I am doing a repeat performance for my ninety-one year old dad, Vincenza, Janet, and me. And because I’m maniacal about food and cooking and don’t want to serve the same menu as last time, I have been maneuvering my way through a test run for the past few weeks. There will still be the succulent roasted turkey thighs, because we’re all dark meat eaters, and I have a fantastic source in a turkey farmer who sells at the Union Square farmer’s market just blocks from my house, and everyone was happy with the simplicity of the herb and mushroom stuffing and the tangy spiced cranberry relish. But I’ve been bouncing the other sides around in an attempt to bring something new to the party.

Janet is my willing guinea pig and gave a thumbs-down to only one experiment. I remembered a Christmas goose dinner I made years ago with a friend at which we served a popular French bistro side dish, braised red cabbage. The cabbage is cooked with onions, apples, cloves, high-quality red wine vinegar and an entire bottle of red wine for two hours until it is soft and wilted. Janet hated it to such a degree that she refused to eat more than one forkful, and I have to admit my memory of it was way off or my tastes have changed radically.

However, the oven-roasted green beans with crispy shallots and haricot vert with butter, mint, and lemon zest were big hits, as was a colorful mixed vegetable slaw. Also in the running and pitted against each other are roasted butternut squash with pumpkin pie spices (cinnamon, mace, nutmeg, cloves, and allspice) and fresh rosemary, and oven-roasted blue Hubbard squash and sweet potatoes.

I’m thankful that I can bring a little joy to my dad’s day on Thanksgiving and that we are close friends who enjoy each other’s company. I’m equally grateful that my sister, Janet, will be there with me and Dad to share the moment. And she’s tremendously thankful that I ditched the braised red cabbage. Amen.

Roasted Butternut Squash with Rosemary

Serves 4

If you prefer, you can use a mixture of 1 ½ pounds butternut squash and 1 ½ pounds sweet potatoes for this dish.

 

1 large (about 3 lbs.) butternut squash, halved, peeled and seeded, and cut into 1-inch squares

¼ cup extra-virgin olive oil

¼ teaspoon each: ground ginger, cinnamon, cloves, and nutmeg, allspice, and cumin

1 ½ tablespoons chopped fresh rosemary

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

Preheat the oven to 425 degrees. Mix the spices together in a small bowl. Place the squash in a bowl and add olive oil. Toss to coat well. Lightly coat a large rimmed baking sheet with a little more olive oil and turn squash out onto sheet. Spread out in one layer. Season evenly with the spice mixture, salt, and pepper. Bake the squash in the oven for 20 minutes. Turn the pieces and add the rosemary. Return the squash to the oven for an additional 5 – 8 minutes, until golden and tender. Serve immediately or reheat in a baking dish, covered, in the oven.

Haricot Vert with Butter, Mint, and Lemon Zest

Serves 4

1 pound haricot vert or small string beans, ends trimmed

Zest of one large lemon

3 tablespoons chopped fresh mint

2 teaspoons minced chives

3 tablespoons unsalted butter

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

Bring a medium sized pot of boiling salted water to a boil. Drop in the beans into the water and cook for 2 minutes. Immediately drain and refresh in a bowl of ice water for 1 minute. Drain again, patting dry with paper towels.

Melt the butter in a medium sized skillet. Add the beans and cook, tossing, 2 minutes. Season with salt and pepper. Add the lemon zest, mint, and chives. Toss to combine and remove from the heat. Serve immediately.