Turkey: Baste it with schmaltz. Butter and olive oil just don’t work. Trust me on this. “What is schmaltz?” you ask. It’s chicken fat cooked with onion and salt. (This may sound weird to you, but think about where butter starts out.)  I am given to understand that you can buy it premade at stores that have a kosher section. To me that’s a bit like buying breadcrumbs–fine if it’s an emergency, but otherwise, why would you? It keeps a long time in the fridge and just about forever in the freezer.

To make schmaltz, next time you make chicken soup, pull all the visible fat off the chicken, remove the skin, chop it into large pieces, and put in a heavy-bottomed saucepan with a chopped-up small onion, salt and a little bit of water. Simmer for a long time until the skin is all dark brown. Pour off the schmaltz. Let it cool, then fridge or freeze it. If you wish to adopt one of our household traditions, you can have the holiday ritual of the Disposing of the Schmaltz, whereby your significant other or mother-in-law finds the schmaltz and, having no idea what it is and not thinking to ask you, throws it out without mentioning it to you.  (This is when the pre-made schmaltz comes in handy.)

Pumpkin pie: The otherwise interesting and hoity-toity food magazine Saveur ran a short piece from an idiot who concluded that canned pumpkin makes the best pies. Why? Because he went and bought a jack o’ lantern pumpkin and the pulp made the pie all runny. (Was the editor off for the day? Did nobody take this guy aside and say “Uh, dude, there’s a reason you buy the ones called ‘pie pumpkins’?) Anyway: canned pumpkin tastes, as the name implies, canned. Roast a pie pumpkin the day before until the pulp is really soft, let it cool, then scoop it out and run it through a blender with all the other ingredients, which should include half-and-half, not evaporated milk. Sorry, Gramma.

Cranberries: Be sure to coordinate food preparation directly with your mother-in-law, rather than using your husband as an intermediary, because he will forget to tell you that she is already making cranberry sauce. Do not, for Great Chukulteh’s sake, buy the stuff that comes out of a can. That “cranberry sauce” is actually tinted axle grease.

Stuffing: Make it a little bit drier than you want it to eventually come out, otherwise it will be soggy.

Entertainment: If you are careful to schedule the birth of at least one child the week before Thanksgiving, you will have more cool toys and video games in the house that people aren’t tired of yet.

Charoset (חֲרֽוֹסֶת)

• 12 oz. pitted whole dates (Medjool are good)
• 1 cup raisins (you can use half dark and half golden)
• 2 small Granny Smith apples, peeled and chopped
• 1 cup raw pecans
• 1 teaspoon ginger
• 1 teaspoon cinnamon
• 1 tablespoon orange juice

Put everything in the food processor. The dates will stick to the blade, so don’t put them at the bottom. Chop in pulses, stirring in between so that it more or less gets cut up equally, until is is the consistency you want. If you blend it too long it will be a paste rather than a chutney, but some people like that. Serve with matzoh or other bland crackers. Cover and refrigerate the leftovers.

If you don’t have a food processor, I’m afraid you are just going to have to cut everything up into small pieces and mix it together in a bowl. Rinse the knife blade with water frequently so the dried fruit sticks to it less. You’ll have the food processor next year.