“What am I truly thankful for? Mario Badescu Drying Lotion, and the courteous pace at which an ice cube melts in a glass of bourbon.” – Alexander Ascenzo Logan

Last year, we attempted a two-pronged approach at Thanksgiving, discussing first the drink and then the food of this finest of holidays. We now realize how grave of a mistake this was (cf. Neville Chamberlain, Louis XVI-XVIII). Nothing we say here will have any impact on what anyone eats or drinks for Thanksgiving; this day is so firmly ensconced in family tradition—be it a balls-to-the-wall haute cuisine affair or a lesser one—that the words of two East Coast douchebags who happen to have print space on the backside of your crossword should rightly fall, like anything Sean Quigley has ever had to say about the communications-transportation paradigm, into the category of those not heeded. The point, of course, is merely to reflect on the basic meaning and importance of Thanksgiving, which, though highlighted by a fantastic meal, is in truth just a parallel to the appreciation and understanding of things deserving celebration that is shared across all cultures. Though we’re not anthropology concentrators (since pre-gaming FishCo with saketinis is not our idea of studying), we can think of no society that does not have some sort of harvest festival; indeed, the recognition of bounty and togetherness that characterizes Thanksgiving seems intrinsic to our humanity.

Furthermore, the holiday itself is devoid of the extremely false consumerism, unsettling (for some) religiosity, and questionable mythology that are so last-generation. Of course we all know the classic story of how the Pilgrims arrived at Mohegan Sun, blew all their gold and indentured servants on the slots, and relied on generous natives to keep up their Jaeger supply through the first tough winter. But nobody really celebrates because of that. And the palpable sense of home, especially for us displaced scholars, is simply irreplaceable and casts into relief all those things we simply never appreciated when we had the pleasure of living at home all the time.

So rather than offer a bunch of half-assed, over-complicated, and truthfully untried recommendations, we urge you simply to forget the food (OK, dear god don’t  forget the food) and instead take the day as an opportunity to appreciate your family, your home, and all the other important things about life that we so often forget while wrapped up in our lives of shuttling textbooks across campus and complaining about the quality of Blue Room coffee.

That said, and though we’ve actually yet to try it ourselves, we’re very excited to try our hand at Thomas Keller’s leek bread pudding given in the New York Times last month. We suspect it would go very well after the chicken liver mousse and alongside the cranberry-blood orange chutney, but before the brioche stuffing and bourbon-maple glazed turkey.