I have my assigned list of items to bring to Thanksgiving dinner at my parents’ house. And somewhere along the way, I also gave myself the job of tracking down the rutabaga.
What’s that? You’re not having rutabaga this Thanksgiving? You aren’t even sure what that is? Rutabagas are large turnips, covered in a thick wax that helps preserve their moisture.
I have no advice to offer on peeling or cutting them. I can’t speak to whether you should add any flavoring after you cook them. I simply drop them off at my parents’ house a day or two early, and my father takes care of the onerous peeling and chopping. He cooks them in a pressure cooker and then mashes them. They round out the Thanksgiving plate as only rutabaga can.
To be clear, I wouldn’t describe myself as a rutabaga enthusiast. It’s just that you can’t have Thanksgiving without rutabaga. Right there on my plate, alongside the turkey and the stuffing and the cranberry sauce and potatoes you’ll find a pile of tangy, slightly bitter, pumpkin-colored, mashed rutabaga. And the flavor and texture will meld just right with everything else.
If you’re a rutabaga-less household on Thanksgiving Day, I don’t expect you to understand—or to run out to get your own rutabagas. But everyone’s Thanksgiving dinner is a little different, and it should be. At our table, we won’t have green beans or ham or macaroni and cheese. But we will have rutabaga and sauerkraut. And that’s because they’re part of our family story.
The sauerkraut is a nod to Baltimore’s German ancestry. The rutabaga is a reminder of my mother’s parents’ New England roots. For most of my childhood, I had no idea that rutabaga was unusual. It was always part of our Thanksgiving meal. But when you go to the store in the days leading up to Thanksgiving, you never see a rutabaga display. Rutabaga is never on sale for the special day. No one is offering free samples of rutabaga or handing out cards with rutabaga recipes.
That vitamin-packed rutabaga is often overlooked. And some might argue, justifiably so. But those people don’t say it out loud at our Thanksgiving table, where the rutabaga has a place of honor, elegantly scooped onto my mother’s china with all the other delicacies. Somehow, with the sweetness of the stuffing and the sour of the kraut and the savory turkey and the rich smooth gravy, the rutabaga brings just the right zing.
You don’t believe me? That’s OK. But we can be thankful for the diversity of the foods on our Thanksgiving tables, and the wonderful unique tastes and preferences and personalities of those who will gather around them.
“In all created things discern the providence and wisdom of God, and in all things give Him thanks,” said St. Teresa of Avila.
Maybe St. Teresa wasn’t thinking of rutabaga. Maybe she was. But what a lovely reminder that we can be grateful at all times and in all ways.
Whether you have rutabaga, sauerkraut, or your favorite side dish, may you enjoy a beautiful Thanksgiving surrounded by people you love.
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