The history of Thanksgiving is much deeper than you think. Plus, a Thanksgiving jam recipe.
Thanksgiving is a myth, or at least it is as taught to school children. I don't mean to be a spoil-sport. Thanksgiving is still my favorite holiday, in part because it sanctifies gluttony. More meaningfully, it also is the rare holiday that is framed by beliefs I hold dear: about nature's abundance, the vitality of kinship across the generations, and the universal brotherhood of the table.But the fond story about Pilgrims in brass-buckle shoes being saved from starvation in 1621 by kindly buckskin-clad Indians bearing gifts of wild game and corn is a legend, according to a fascinating article by food historian Andrew F. Smith that appeared in the fall, 2003, issue of the academic journal Gastronomica. The Thanksgiving meal is as laden with symbolism as sustenance; it's just that the true meaning isn't exactly what we learned in grade school.After the grave Puritans arrived on the Mayflower and established Plimoth Plantation in 1620, they promptly began to issue all sorts of thanksgiving proclamations. These "celebrations" might be declared in observance of "a military victory, a good harvest, or a providential rainfall," says Smith, but they were solemn days of prayer, not sumptuous meals shared with their First Nation brothers.It's true that there does exist a letter dated December, 1621, that mentions a big feast of wild fowl eaten with Native American king Massasoit and his men, and the missive has since been enshrined as evidence of the original thanksgiving feast. But the purpose of this letter makes it suspect: It was sent to England to attract more settlers to Plymouth Plantation. Rather than the founding document of America's a multicultural past, it's something of a hyped-up real-estate advertisement.
The idea of a national day of feasting, family, and reflection belonged to the 19th century and was promulgated by an energetic writer named Sarah Josepha Hale. Best remembered by history for having penned the verses for "Mary Had a Little Lamb," Hale also wrote the 1827 novel Northwood; a Tale of New England, which included an entire chapter on thanksgiving. She laid out quite a spread: a roast turkey with stuffing, pumpkin pie, and "plates of pickles, preserves ... and all the necessaries for increasing the seasoning of the viands to the demand of each palate." This florid passage established the template for the traditional turkey dinner, the same menu sentimentalized in Norman Rockwell's 1943 painting Freedom from Want.We still eat turkey with all the trimmings today largely thanks to Hale's political acumen. She worked her connections all the way up to President Lincoln, to whom she wrote a personal letter persuading him to make thanksgiving a national holiday. In 1863, a few months after the battle of Gettysburg, Lincoln did just that, declaring the last Thursday in November as Thanksgiving Day. (But why so late in the season-long after the the harvest season has succumbed to barren frost in many parts of the country?)The idea of a thanksgiving feast, however, is older than Lincoln, Hale, or the Pilgrims. Indeed, buried beneath Rockwell's layers of sentiment and piety are the dim outlines of pagan customs of autumnal gorging. The Celts, the Germanic tribes and the Greeks all had their own version of the harvest festival, and likely the idea of feasting to celebrate the end of communal work is as old as organized agriculture itself. (Before lasagna came to The Olive Garden, it was first a traditional hay-harvest dish in the French Alps, where after a good day's work you were said to have "earned your lasagna.") In other words, I love Thanksgiving because it's older than America-even older perhaps than the Christian faith which moves many to say Grace before the meal.
