By Liza Fergusson

Shrimp appetizer.

Thanksgiving looks different for everyone. Some people help prepare the meal, while others settle onto the couch to watch football. I myself do not get a moment to rest on Thanksgiving Day, for I spend my time meticulously critiquing and reviewing all foods available throughout the festivities. You may be thinking: How could you even review Thanksgiving food, as it is all so good and also very basic? To answer this question, I will review my Thanksgiving family meal of 2022. 

The Thornton family consists of my mom’s siblings and their many children (including my cousins, all aged twenty-four to thirty-six), as well as various significant others, children, and anyone else lacking a place to have Thanksgiving. The gatherings usually take place in my cousin Kathleen’s humble abode off of River Road. The kitchen is large enough to entertain all 20+ attendees. Many Thornton food preferences consist of copious amounts of butter and salt, multiple pies, and that is about it. We are simple people, but that does not mean we do not strive for excellence when it comes to food. So this review is strictly for constructive as well as entertainment purposes. 

Candied pecans.

Every delicious meal begins with appetizers, whether it is a cheese board, dips, or crudité. Appetizers are the warm up to the meal, and everyone knows a poor warm up can change the trajectory of the game. The appetizers of this particular meal consisted of an array of three cheeses, various assorted crackers, vegetables and ranch dip, as well as my personal favorite of the day, candied pecans. 

I am very particular about which crackers are appropriate to accompany each cheese, and one cracker that is never acceptable in my book is the Raincoast “artisanally crafted” cranberry hazelnut crisp. They are the bane of my existence as a food critic. Crackers are supposed to be a vessel for which to carry dip or cheese or other various foods to one’s mouth. They do not need to be filled with cranberries, seeds, grains, hazelnuts, and ostentatiousness. It is doing too much. While I respect the craftsmanship of the cracker, I do not believe it has any place on a cheeseboard. The water crackers were a nice recovery, especially when paired with sharp white cheddar cheese. 

The candied pecans were homemade by my cousin Emily. Coming all the way from Ohio, she bestowed upon us these delicate treats. Often candied pecans fall into two extremes, either sporting a candied coating that destroys the integrity of the nut and overpowers it with a harsh sugary flavor while threatening to crack your teeth, or the candied coating is non-existent with only a small hint of sugar. 

Pie.

There was also a shrimp cocktail, and I would describe its vibes with three-ish words: clean, fresh, near perfect. The shrimp were unseasonably delicious, and the cocktail sauce prepared by my uncle Jack had the perfect amount of Kelchner’s horseradish, which is a common problem I encounter with restaurant cocktail sauce, as it tends to be 90% ketchup in many establishments. 

Now onto the worst parts of the meal, so that I can get them out of the way. A cardinal sin of cooking is lack of seasoning, and I am saddened to say that the mashed potatoes that I helped make should be put in food prison for life. The texture of the potatoes was near perfect, with no large dry chunks, yet not so smooth that I felt like I was eating apple sauce. The optimal amount of both cream and butter, which in the Thornton household means enough butter to grease the floors of the White House twice. But the downfall was the seasoning. My cousin John and I argued back and forth, wasting four spoons on testing the potatoes, and each time I exclaimed that there was not nearly enough salt. But yet when I scooped them out of the ramekin and had my first bite, I was livid, as I tasted no saltiness at all.

Thanksgiving plate.

To distract from the depressing excuse for mashed potatoes, my cousin Kathleen asked me to open up the canned cranberry sauce. The request was followed by potentially the five most embarrassing minutes of my life. As I struggled aggressively with the old-fashioned can opener, twisting it every which way and eventually throwing it on the counter in frustration, my family mocked me and my lack of can-opening capability. It so happens that they were instructing me incorrectly; therefore, it is not my fault it took five-plus minutes to open the can. 

To spite them, I left the sauce un-chopped in its natural cylindrical shape, with the knife sticking out of the top. One could say that tensions were very high that night. My brother Luke, a sophomore at James Madison University, and I laughed maniacally at our menacing cranberry sauce display. Yet it was hardly the star of the show on the table, for my mother opted to purchase a turkey-shaped butter glob to add some holiday cheer to the table. Though it was promptly decapitated by an unknown perpetrator.

Cranberry sauce.

While on the topic of sauces, I must say the gravy was disappointing. Sporting the texture of smashed-up Orbeez and a bland flavor profile, I may never risk eating gravy again, as this experience was so traumatizing. The lack of acceptable gravy meant the cardboard texture of the turkey was prominent on the plate. Disclaimer: both the turkey and gravy were purchased from an anonymous source and were not terrible at the fault of my family members.

The meal reached another peak when dessert rolled around. My mom’s job is making at least five pies of four different flavors. Key lime, chocolate bourbon pecan, pumpkin, and chocolate chess. While they are not always the prettiest, they are reliably delicious and a staple to any family gathering. The key lime is my personal favorite due to the tart filling that is soothed by a multitude of Reddi-wip. A perfect way to finish off the day. Starting off strong with delicious appetizers and ending with delectable pies, I can almost forget the atrocity that was the main meal.

Turkey-shaped butter.

I would also like to disclose that just because the texture or flavor of a dish was unappealing to my particular taste buds, that does not mean I do not appreciate the time, effort, and love my family members put into the food they bring. The atmosphere is never short of the best time ever. The stories, laughs, and advice my family brings to each other makes up for any lack of seasoning, despite how much it harms my tastebuds. They are also great sports for allowing me to exploit our Thanksgiving meal for a food review.

If you enjoyed this review, you should follow my food-reviewing Instagram account: @lizaeatsfood.

All photos by Liza Fergusson.