Every Thanksgiving when I was growing up we were graciously invited to my Aunt Ferne and Uncle Burt’s house in Brooklyn to celebrate Turkey Day. Back then, Aunt Ferne would make some of the holiday favorites from scratch, and some she would cater. Our family brought a few items too– like Mom’s Famous Chopped Salad, her Potato Soufflé and a few outrageously decadent desserts. But what set this feast apart from a traditional gathering was the fact that every year in addition to turkey, AF and UB served lobster.
My Uncle was of the belief that the pilgrims might not have been lucky with their muskets in the fields come Fall. And it’s quite possible that their wooden tables did not contain turkey, but instead displayed the catch of the day. And since the early settlers were in Boston, Maine and a good portion of the waterside towns dotting the East coast, chances are that these celebrators feted with a few clawed critters of their own, hence Uncle B’s brilliant reasoning for serving lobster at Thanksgiving.
Over time, our family referred to this odd practice as “The Lobster Clause,” meaning that we could eat all the turkey we wanted, with the caveat that they were having lobster, and that we were most welcome to partake of the traif if we wanted to go rogue and join them. (Traif is the Yiddish word for non-kosher food. And lobster by definition is already not kosher, but in this case the connotation conveyed a food waaay out of the typical holiday box.)
One year on Thanksgiving during the appetizer portion of the extravaganza, I walked into their kitchen to grab a drink (probably a cold can of Tab!). I guess the huge brown paper bag from the fish store must have toppled over because when I stepped foot onto the tiled floor near the refrigerator, two clawed friends had managed to escape the confines of their paper jail and were clamoring their way clear across Midwood heading toward Queens through the back door that was slightly ajar. So I screamed of course, as I was unprepared to encounter our dinner making a break for it. But the crustaceous crisis was quickly contained. The escapees were immediately apprehended by Cousin Andrea who came to my rescue, saved the day and the meal, and ceremoniously tossed the two offenders into the already bubbling pot of water. Dinner was soon served.
Many years later when I considered myself a full-fledged married adult (yes, briefly– and no, not the adult part, funny guy, the married part) we hosted Thanksgiving at our house. I thought it was great fun to have a family holiday. (Ah the perks of home court advantage– namely not having to travel, and keeping a good portion of the outstanding leftovers.) I even invited Aunt F and Uncle B, however I warned them that it was to be a more traditional menu and that sadly lobster had been dropped from our bountiful but modest offerings.
What I did add however, was an updated version of my Mom’s famous stuffing. I took out the mushrooms and adopted a great cooking technique by none other than Rachael Ray. (Shocking, I know!) She suggested to bake the stuffing in muffin tins! So alas, Jen’s Famous Stuffin Muffins were born. Feel free to hijack this genius tip by using your family’s stuffing recipe. Just use an ice cream scooper for perfect mounds of stuffing that fit snugly into a well-greased muffin tin. Bake at 350F for 25 minutes and you’ll have wonderfully crisp edges on individual Stuffin Muffins.
A few years ago it finally struck me that if my Aunt and Uncle were bold enough to break the unspoken Serve Turkey On Turkey Day rule, I was well within my rights to substitute chicken for the much more difficult to cook and occasionally dry big bird. Chicken is usually moist and a big ‘ol turkey can be tricky to get right. So I chickened out and made the switch last year. I am still and always will be a big fan of all the sides. So the green bean casserole, sweet potato pie, garlic mashed potatoes, and all the trimmings, including of course my Stuffin Muffins, are present and accounted for at my holiday table.
Being that Thanksgiving is today, I’d like to dedicate the holiday this year to all the traditional cookers, recipe innovators, and hungry enthusiasts who don’t necessarily have culinary skills but help make the holiday special by enjoying the meal with gusto or helping with the clean-up. To those I can’t be with today, I miss you and hope you enjoy the celebration to which you’ve been invited! And a very special shout out to my Aunt and Uncle who I’m sure are enjoying a spectacular lobsterfest in the great beyond with nary a turkey leg to be found.
I’d like to end with a little Throwback Thursday musical number I learned in Ms. Curran’s 3rd Grade music class. Sing with me if you remember the words! Ready? Here we go! “A turkey sat on a backyard fence and he sang this sad sad tune. Thanksgiving Day is coming gobble gobble gobble gobble and I know I’ll be eaten soooooon. Gobble gobble gobble gobble gobble gobble gobble I would like to run awaaaaay. Gobble gobble gobble gobble gobble gobble gobble I don’t like Thanksgiving Day!”
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