Today, many people hesitate at the thought of pemmican, since tallow is rendered from animal fat and high in triglycerides, which we now associate with heart disease. European settlers, introduced to cranberries in the colonies, took a different approach: they added sugar to tame the tartness, creating the beginnings of the cranberry sauce we know today.
By the 19th century, cranberry sauce had become a Thanksgiving staple. In my own family, it was always on the table. When I took over preparing the big meal, I kept the tradition alive with Ocean Spray Jellied Cranberry Sauce. The problem was, aside from me, no one else liked it. Year after year I served it faithfully, only to watch the can sit untouched, except for the single slice I insisted on eating.
Last year, I finally broke with tradition. Instead of the jellied version, I tried making whole cranberry sauce myself. I’ll admit I was nervous. Springing a homemade dish on family and friends without a trial run felt risky. But it turned out great. The best part? It was so easy: just cranberries, orange peel and juice, and sugar. Unlike previous years, there wasn’t a spoonful left at the end of the meal.
Sometimes tradition needs a little transformation. For me, cranberry sauce shifted from a relic of habit to a dish that truly connects past and present
If you are curious about Amelia Simmons' 1796 cookbook, then click on this link.


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