I’ve never understood the appeal of cranberries. Growing up, our parents served both styles for Thanksgiving dinner. The lumpy canned kind with whole cranberries (sorry mom…did you make those from scratch and I just forgot? If you did they were amazing!), and the slimy canned kind in the shape of a..er…can.
I always put both a little of both on my plate as they were passed around because you had to, right? It’s a tradition. You put everything handed to you on your plate whether you liked it or not. You might not eat some of it, but you sure as hell better take some.
This year, I’m drinking my cranberries before dinner. I refuse to put any form of cranberries anywhere near the food on my dish. If someone tries to say, “Hey, cheater. You don’t have any cranberries on your plate! Why should the rest of us have to suffer while you just sit there smugly without them?”, my response will simply be, “Oh but you’re mistaken. I already drank my cranberries before dinner and they were wonderful. Pass the gravy please?” It’s really so nice to be a grown up.
- ½ ounce bourbon
- 1 ounce cranberry juice
- 1 ounce pomegranate juice
- 5 ounces prosecco