Apologies to Susan Stamberg - My Cranberry Sauce is Simpler

I wonder if Susan Stamberg's colleagues at National Public Radio ever get tired of hearing about her mother-in-law's cranberry relish every Thanksgiving. I guess it's a charming annual tradition: "Here comes dear old Aunt Susan again, insisting that everyone try her cranberry relish ..." It's probably pretty good, but even if it's not, you say it is because you don't want to hurt her feelings.

I have my own traditional way of serving cranberries at Thanksgiving.

Cranberry sauce. Chilled, right out of the can. No fuss, no muss. No pickled anything. If you want to put some effort into it, you can cut the perfect can shaped masterpiece into ready-to-serve slices.

People like it. I've never had any complaints.

Martha Stewart would not enjoy Thanksgiving at our house. If the table is set ahead of time, chances are a cat will lounge among the plates and flatware before the guests arrive. The hosts are generally dressed casually, in shorts if the weather is nice. The paper napkins are not folded into the shape of anything. The tablecloth is usually a little wrinkled, unless Clyde is inspired to iron it, which I don't encourage. The plates don't all match. The food is served in kind of a free-for-all, a combination of pass around and buffet, depending on the crowd, the food, and the space. Sometimes, guests have to get up to refill their own beverages. In terms of formal manners, it's pretty ugly. The pies, which come from Village Inn (they are not made at home), are topped with Cool Whip instead of whipped cream. Dessert is a strictly serve yourself affair.

We do have some standards. Football is not allowed on the television in the main room. Guests are encouraged to go to another room if they must watch.

It sounds like Thanksgiving at our house is kind of a bummer. It's not. Most of the guests enjoy coming back year after year. It's laid back. The conversation is good. We laugh a lot. Usually, we agree politically, which will come in especially handy this year. No one expects a formal black tie affair.

Years ago, I tried hard to impress when I hosted Thanksgiving. In particular, I tried to make fancy stuffing. One year I made special apple stuffing which didn't go over very well. Another time, I got a fairly ok cornbread stuffing recipe off the Internet. One year I made one with wine that smelled up the house for days. Then, for a few years, my sister-in-law tried. She got stuffing recipes out of Bon Appetite magazine. One made with rosemary was pretty good.

Until one year after dinner, someone yawned, "You know, I like Stove Top just as well as any stuffing I've ever had." Around the room, sleepily digesting, everyone agreed.

Years of research and anxiety over recipes went out the window. Why had I bothered?

The next Thanksgiving, in addition to my special way of preparing the cranberry portion of the meal, I began a whole new tradition of making stuffing for the family: several boxes of Stove Top. Just add water and a little butter, right at the last minute. They gobble it up.

Thanksgiving is not about fancy recipes. It's not about impressing guests or good china or which fork you're supposed to use. It's about having a good time and enjoying food with people you love. Even if it comes from a box or a can.