I’m a bit of a freak when it comes to cranberry sauce. Nonetheless, I can’t help but think there is something seriously disturbed about people who claim to not like it.
Because what is there to dislike? Whether shplopped from a can or homemade with loving care, cranberry sauce is sweet, tangy and just a little spicy, and mouth-puckeringly luscious in every way. I don’t actually care about the rest of the Thanksgiving meal. Just give me a bowl of cranberry sauce, a spoon and leave me alone.
Many years ago — in a bid to win over the faithless, including my son — I spent a chunk of time perfecting what I then considered to be the Platonic ideal of cranberry sauce. It was chunky and sweet, with just the right amount of tart. It had fresh cranberries and dried cherries, chopped pears and candied ginger, golden raisins and apple cider. And the secret ingredient? Cardamom. It was heaven.
And yet it still didn’t win over my son. Or, it would seem — based on the number of cranberry sauce naysayers I encounter around this time each year — plenty of others.