Thanksgiving: Beyond Gratitude, a Party of Appetite and the Art of the Turkey Carcass
Thanksgiving, as it tends to be celebrated, is the most honest American holiday: all appetite, no apology. In a year marked by increasing societal fractures, the simple act of sharing a meal takes on a renewed importance.
Every other event on our civic calendar asks us to remember something noble, or to mourn something tragic, or to celebrate something grand or abstract, but Thanksgiving just asks us to be hungry together, and then to eat. This year, as the nation grapples with issues of inequality and hardship, the holiday’s straightforwardness feels notably poignant. “We feed others, we feed ourselves, and what else is there?” one observer noted, capturing the essence of the moment.
A Holiday Rooted in Belief, Not Just thanks
Despite its name, Thanksgiving, for many, is less about expressing gratitude and more about embracing a set of personal beliefs. The insistence on tradition, for example, often masks a deeper desire for control and predictability. The author recounts a family tradition where those tasked with dishwashing shoudl be allowed to fill their plate first.
Furthermore, the practice of publicly stating what one is thankful for is deemed a competitive and ill-conceived exercise. It unfairly disadvantages those who speak first, lacking anything to build upon, and those who speak last, finding all the obvious gratitudes already claimed.
The Optionality of Tradition and the Reign of the Turkey
Ultimately, all Thanksgiving traditions-the menu, the gathering, the pursuit of a Norman Rockwell-esque scene-are optional. They are a framework ripe for “artful riffs and willful rebellion.” Yet, within this freedom, one element reigns supreme: the turkey carcass.
The carcass isn’t merely a byproduct of the meal; it’s a promise of what’s to come. The “agonies and inadequacies of the meal itself are necessary steps toward the glorious leftovers,” and the carcass is the key.While a Thanksgiving turkey can be a “gastronomic absurdity,” the potential of its remains justifies the effort.
The Alchemy of Turkey Stock
The true magic happens not during the initial feast, but in the hours that follow, with the simmering of turkey stock.This process is more than just cooking; it’s a metaphor for resourcefulness and a rejection of waste. “Nothing wasted, even the most picked-over bones having something left to give,” one enthusiast explained.
The stock itself, “dark and rich and stickily collagenous,” transforms the relatively unremarkable turkey meat into something “of heady, chest-thumping bravado.” the process requires no precise recipe-simply combine the carcass with vegetable and herb scraps, cover with water, and simmer for hours.As the bones soften, a warm, meaty aroma fills the kitchen, a more peaceful echo of the earlier cooking frenzy.By the time the stock is finished, the leftovers are stored, and perhaps the guests have departed, leaving the task of dishes to another. the simmering stock becomes a “meditation, a cleansing, a gentle reclamation of the home.”
A Dedicated Fraternity of Bone Collectors
This devotion to the turkey carcass has even spawned a dedicated community. The former Massachusetts governor and presidential candidate, Michael Dukakis, famously solicited turkey bones from family, friends, and eventually, the public at large. In 2015, the Boston Globe reported, “Michael Dukakis woudl very much like your turkey carcass.” Five years later, the overwhelming response prompted a public-radio station to announce, “Mike Dukakis is no longer accepting turkey carcasses.”
Inspired by Dukakis’s zeal, one individual plans to post a note in their apartment building’s elevator, offering to collect unwanted bones. A neighbor’s “picked-over bird carcass, saved from the quiet ignominy of the trash,” is, in itself, something to be thankful for. This embodies a core belief: within the end of one feast lies the beginning of the next. ♦
