🦃 The one day we plan—Thanksgiving!
Hey there, fellow Fridge Foragers! It's me, Sarah.
As you know, our entire philosophy—the very foundation of this blog—is built upon the glorious, chaotic spontaneity of "what leftovers are desperately trying to escape the fridge right now?" We are not planners. Our meal "prep" usually consists of remembering, around 6 PM, that we haven't consumed calories since breakfast.
But there is one glorious, terrifying, carb-loaded exception: Thanksgiving.
This is the one day of the year where Hank and I transform from two people who can barely agree on a Netflix show into a terrifying, synchronized cooking unit. Why? Because this single meal holds more emotional weight than a baby elephant wearing a sweater.
A moment of acknowledgment
It's important to pause our food prep frenzy, especially around this holiday, to acknowledge the complicated and painful history behind it. We recognize that we are working and cooking from Santa Cruz, California, the ancestral and unceded territory of the Awaswas-speaking Uypi Tribe. We honor the original inhabitants—the Amah Mutsun Tribal Band, descendants of the original people of the missions in Santa Cruz and San Juan Bautista—who are still here and continue to be guardians of this land. We want to take a moment to respect the resilience and enduring presence of Indigenous Peoples and commit to learning more about their history and supporting their sovereignty, particularly on days like Thanksgiving, which many observe as a National Day of Mourning or recognize as Indigenous Peoples' Day.
The great Thanksgiving divide: planning vs. reality
For 364 days, we scoff at meal prep. "Why chop six onions when you only need one tonight? That's so inefficient!" we'd smugly say while eating instant ramen.
Then November rolls around, and the Thanksgiving Brain takes over.
This year, the planning started in early October. My sister printed out a multi-page spreadsheet. A spreadsheet, people! It was color-coded and had columns for "Prep Day," "Cook Time," "Rest Time (for the chef, probably me)," and a terrifying column simply labeled "CRITICAL ITEMS (DO NOT FORGET THE BUTTER)."
Our family has been operating under DEFCON 1 (Delicious Emergency Food CONdition) all week.
Monday: Hank was seen meticulously measuring spices for the dry brine, acting like a chemist about to discover the cure for the common cold. He even wore his reading glasses. For salt.
Tuesday: We started chopping vegetables. This is where the comedy truly began. Chopping two carrots for a Tuesday stir-fry takes 30 seconds. Chopping carrots, celery, and onions for stock and stuffing takes 90 minutes and results in two adults crying (partially from the onions, partially from the sheer volume of work). We had so many little bowls of pre-chopped things, it looked like a tiny vegetable Olympics.
Wednesday: The Great Gravy Stock Saga. We're currently simmering the turkey neck and giblets. The smell is… potent. Hank is hovering over the pot like a nervous parent. He just yelled across the house, "Babe! Did you label the Homemade Turkey Stock container so it's not accidentally mistaken for Slightly Browned Water in the fridge?" The level of commitment is frankly alarming.
The funny thing about Thanksgiving prep
What makes this meal prep so fundamentally different from regular meal prep?
It’s the stakes.
Regular Day: If we mess up dinner, we order pizza. Consequence: $30 spent, mild disappointment, and a reminder that we should probably buy more groceries.
Thanksgiving Day: If we mess up the turkey, My sister will bring it up every Christmas for the next decade. If the mashed potatoes are lumpy or the gravy is thin, we might as well just hand over our cooking licenses. Consequence: Eternal familial shame and a holiday ruined by a lack of proper roux.
It’s also the sheer volume of butter required. I swear, the dairy aisle knows. They see Mark coming with his crazed eyes and his industrial-sized cart and they just know: This man is about to use a year's worth of fat in one sitting.
I’ve just received an update from the kitchen: Hank is now Googling, "How to make a Tofurky look like a turkey, just in case." That's how much he's worried about the big bird.
So, wish us luck, Fridge Foragers! May your potatoes be creamy, your turkey be moist, and may your spouse not accidentally put the homemade stock down the sink thinking it was dishwater. We'll be back Friday, exhausted, bloated, and staring into a fridge packed with Tupperware—the one time we planned, and boy, are we going to reap the benefits.
Happy Planning (and Eating)!
What's the one dish you absolutely must nail every Thanksgiving? And what's your most chaotic meal prep story? Send us a comment!
