Why Do Americans Eat Turkey At Thanksgiving
Okay, let's talk turkey. Literally. It's Thanksgiving, and you know what that means. The bird is in the oven, the house smells amazing, and we're all gathered around the table. But have you ever stopped to wonder, why turkey?
It feels like a law, right? A Thanksgiving commandment. You can't have Thanksgiving without a giant, roasted bird. My unpopular opinion is that it's mostly just… tradition. A really, really old tradition.
Think about it. When the Pilgrims and the Wampanoag people supposedly had that first feast, did they actually sit down to a perfectly bronzed, multi-pound turkey? Probably not. Historical records are a bit fuzzy on the exact menu.
Some say it was more like a smorgasbord of whatever was available. Deer, goose, duck, maybe even some fish. Whatever they could hunt or gather in the autumn. Imagine that Thanksgiving menu! A little something for everyone.
So, where did the turkey take center stage? Well, turkeys were native to North America. That's a good start. They were big enough to feed a crowd. And probably tasted… fine. Not gourmet, but sustenance.
But it wasn't an overnight sensation. For a long time, turkey was more of a common meal. People ate it whenever they could. It wasn't exclusively for special occasions.
The whole Thanksgiving turkey thing really picked up steam in the 19th century. It was a writer named Sarah Josepha Hale who really championed the idea. She wrote about it in her stories and magazines.
She even called it "national dish" for Thanksgiving. She was pretty persuasive, that Ms. Hale! She wanted to unite the country with a shared holiday meal. And she picked the turkey to do it.
Then, in 1863, President Abraham Lincoln officially declared Thanksgiving a national holiday. And what did he suggest for the feast? You guessed it: turkey. The die was cast.
By the 20th century, it was basically official. Every Thanksgiving, there was a turkey. It became the symbol. The big, impressive centerpiece for our gratitude.
And let's be honest, turkeys are… a lot of bird. They're huge! You can barely fit them in the oven. And then there's the carving. It's practically an Olympic sport in my house.
There's always that one person who's a whiz with the carving knife. And then there's the rest of us, fumbling with the legs and trying not to lose a finger. It's a whole production!
And the leftovers! Oh, the glorious, never-ending turkey leftovers. Turkey sandwiches, turkey soup, turkey salad. For days. Maybe even weeks.
It's almost like we're obligated to eat turkey because it's just so much of it. We have to get through the whole bird, right? No one wants to waste a perfectly good (if a little dry sometimes) turkey.
My personal theory? It’s partly because it’s impressive. It looks grand on the table. It screams "celebration!" even if it tastes like… well, like roasted bird.
And sometimes, it is a little dry. Let's be honest. We all have that one Aunt who overcooks it. Or maybe it's just the sheer volume of meat we're dealing with.
But we soldier on, don't we? We pile it high on our plates, drown it in gravy, and declare it delicious. Because it's Thanksgiving, and that's what you do.
It’s funny, though. If you really think about it, there are so many other amazing things we could be eating. What about a glorious roast ham? Or a perfectly cooked prime rib?
Imagine a Thanksgiving with a giant rack of ribs. Now that's a feast! Or a succulent roasted chicken. Smaller, easier to carve, probably moister.
But no. We're locked into the turkey. It's the star of the show. The reason for the season, in a culinary sense.
And you know what? Despite my unpopular opinion that it's mostly just habit, there's something undeniably comforting about it. The smell, the ritual, the shared experience.
There's a certain nostalgia attached to that giant bird. It reminds us of Thanksgivings past. Of family gatherings and shared laughter.
Maybe the reason we eat turkey isn't just because it's tradition. Maybe it's because it has become a symbol of what Thanksgiving means to us. A time to be together, to be thankful, and to eat… a lot.
So, while I might secretly dream of a Thanksgiving prime rib, I'll still dutifully carve that turkey. And I'll enjoy every single bite. Because it's Thanksgiving, and that's what we do. We eat turkey. And we make it work.
It’s a bit like a beloved, slightly quirky relative. You might not always understand them, but you wouldn't have them any other way. The turkey is our Thanksgiving relative.
Perhaps it's also about the challenge. The culinary Everest of Thanksgiving. Conquering that bird and bringing it to the table, whole and magnificent. It's a triumph!
And think of all the creative ways we try to make it better. Brining, basting, injecting. We're constantly trying to elevate the humble turkey. We're artists, really, with gravy as our paint.
It’s a testament to our dedication to this particular meal. We put in the effort. We overcome the dryness. We endure the carving.
So, next time you’re facing down that colossal bird, just remember the journey. From the wild plains to the pages of Sarah Josepha Hale to the presidential proclamation of Abraham Lincoln.
It’s a long and winding road to your dinner plate. And while it might be a tradition we don't always question, it's one that has certainly shaped our holiday. And for that, I guess, we can be thankful for the turkey.
Even if it is a little dry sometimes. Just load up on that gravy. Nobody's judging. Especially not on Thanksgiving.
Happy feasting, everyone! And may your turkey be moist and your gravy plentiful.