Raw Cranberry Relish with Tangerines and Walnuts

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The Thanksgiving Me

Thanksgiving dinner was just another family meal until my paternal grandmother started serving a cylinder of quivering cranberry jelly, gingerly laid on its back and sliced into thin discs.  Not only did it inject a flash of color into the meal’s otherwise narrow spectrum of ivories, beiges, and chestnut browns, it was geometric and precise, and I was a child of all things orderly.

Later, barely into my double-digit years, I noticed a bowl of juicy cranberry sauce on my maternal grandmother’s table.  It had probably been there each year, pooling in its faceted crystal bowl, but only then did I realize that mashed potatoes and cranberries and stuffing and cranberries and turkey and cranberries are all better when paired in a four-to-one ratio than when each is eaten alone.  It was the first meal—and is still the sole meal—at which I willingly commingled my food.

My twenties were a decade of experimentation.  With cranberries.  Varying amounts of freshly grated ginger, orange zest, spices, and cold-weather spirits showed up with them for Thanksgiving dinner.  And then one year ago, as I was passing the days—all 16 of them—after Elinor’s supposed due date, I came across the concept of raw cranberry relish and latched onto it like a newborn to a teat.  I toyed with ingredients and proportions until cranberries disappeared from stores.

A raw cranberry relish, I found out, is an ingenious thing.  It allows you to feel as though you are cooking, when, for whatever your reason—for example, you cannot reach the counter because of a protruding belly or you have just delivered a baby— you are not in any condition to do so; and all you need to make it is a sharp knife or a food processor.  The raw approach captures the cranberry’s kind tartness without cooking it into the sharply sour state that requires cups of sugar to reel it back into something palatable.  In particular, this version calls for nuts for crunchiness and a bit of maple syrup for balance.  Yet, fret not, my fellow diner: there is plenty of acidity to reinvigorate your taste buds after a bite or five of the starchy, unctuous leading dishes at the table.

As for the leading dishes, I eat them, too, relish in them, in fact.  I fear that, in focusing on the marginalized cranberry, I have given an inequitable impression of my Thanksgiving self.  To remedy this possibility, I have adapted the Proust questionnaire to this most benevolent of holidays.  Who is your Thanksgiving self?  Here’s mine:

• What is, for you, the height of misery? Dry turkey breasts
• Your ideal of earthly happiness? A walk in the morning, when the streets are quiet and the passersby smile more warmly than normal; a long, slow day spent reading and laughing and playing with Elinor while the savor of roasting turkey and woodsy herbs swirl around us; an early dinner, languid and full of animated conversation; a sleepy walk just before bed; snuggling up with Dave and Elinor, blankets up to our necks, while brisk air seeps in from the ajar window
• The virtue you prefer in men? A mashed-potato experimenter (Will you please replicate last year’s version with Point Reyes blue cheese, caramelized shallots, and bacon?)
• Your principal fault? A pre-dinner plate of cheese
• What might your greatest misfortune be? What would also be my greatest fortune: the entire platter of my dad’s stuffing, made with wild mushrooms, toasted hazelnuts, and rosemary, thyme, and sage
• Your favorite names? Maude, our turkey’s name
• What you detest above all? Gravy from a packet
• The reform you admire most? The decline of marshmallow-topped yams
• Your present state of mind? Happy
• For what fault have you most toleration? Dry turkey breasts; it is a hard-won skill to cook the legs through without drying out the breasts.
• Your favorite motto? Fast.  Eat.  Sleep.

Eat gratefully.  Be well.  Happy Thanksgiving.

[/donotprint]Raw Cranberry Relish with Tangerines and Walnuts
If you have time, make this relish the day before serving it to allow the flavors to meld.

12 ounces fresh cranberries
2 small tangerines, washed and cut into chunks
1 cup walnuts
1/4 cup maple syrup

M A K E . Mince the cranberries, tangerines, and walnuts by hand or pulse them in a food processor.  (If you choose the latter method, be sure to do only short, quick pulses; anything more may result in a puree-like spread.)  Stir in the syrup.

O P T I O N S . The recipe is really a template; substitute whatever citrus, nut, or sweetener you like.  The nuts bring creaminess and texture, while the oranges (or kumquats or satsumas or Meyer lemons) add depth.

• The Meyer. Cranberries, a Meyer lemon, almonds or macadamia nuts, and honey.
• The Cherry. Cranberries, the oranges, a generous handful of dried cherries, hazelnuts, and maple syrup.
• Morning-after Yogurt. Mix the relish into your yogurt, thereafter ponder if Monet came to play with your breakfast.

L I T T L E  E A T S . I made no modifications to this recipe for Elinor. (By the way, while I was making this, she was more than happy with little pieces of raw cranberries alone.  Her love of sour foods is astounding.).

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Text and photo © Blue Egg Kitchen 2010

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