![]() Martha’s self-described “ Perfect Macaroni and Cheese” called to John like a Greek Siren because, in his words, “it says ‘perfect’ in the name,” and also “looked pretty easy.”īoth of these assessments would prove largely true. Stewart, that is, the undisputed champion of holiday entertaining. This is where John made probably the smartest decision in his relationship: He turned to Martha. Thanksgiving is a big deal to Daniela (and me), and he felt an obligation to show up strong. (This is a man who once identified a mango as “I don’t know, maybe a big nectarine?”) Culinary shortcomings notwithstanding, John managed to snag a coveted Orphan’s Thanksgiving invitation early in his romance, and knew the pressure was on. John has many admirable qualities, but cooking is not among them. Several years ago, Daniela began dating a man named John. (I make ham instead.) The only rule is that you must bring something - booze, takeout containers for leftovers, a side dish - in order to participate the feast. Our “Orphan’s Thanksgiving” started in our early 20s in New York, when we were too cash-strapped to afford expensive plane tickets back home, and has always been a casual, potluck-style affair designed for fellow holiday stragglers and non-believers.īy virtue of the potluck format, the menu is somewhat chaotic - we send out a spreadsheet for attendees to sign up for dishes, including turkey, which I refuse to cook because turkey, no matter how intently you spatchcock it or brine it or slow-roast it or deep-fry it, sucks. This year, Eater is choosing to acknowledge that history in our coverage of the holiday.įor almost as long as I can remember, I’ve hosted Thanksgiving with my good friend and former roommate Daniela. Editor’s note: Thanksgiving traces its origins to an uneasy, temporary alliance between 17th-century English settlers and members of the Wampanoag Confederacy.
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