The one Christmas that stands out in my “memory bank” is the one that I forgot to put my bowl of cranberry sauce that I had labored over on the Christmas dinner table. I remember opening the refrigerator door to put in leftover turkey, and there “it” sat, my beautiful bowl of cranberry sauce, too much for two people to eat and too late to send home with the guests.
Cranberry sauce—you either love it or hate it. And if you love it, you decided long ago which you prefer to eat, the “jellied” or the “whole berry” sauce.
Prior to 1912, when the first “canned sauce” appeared in the marketplace, cranberries were only available during their picking season, which ranged between late September through early November, perfect timing for the holiday dinner table.
Ocean Spray was the first canner of cranberries in Massachusetts in 1912, and as a child living near Westport, Wash., I remember seeing these beautiful red berries growing in their bog (wetland).
The cranberry pickers wore hip boots and gloves with their fingers cut out in order to pick those little berries, all done by hand and on their knees in the muddy sand left behind after the fields were drained of the water. Many of the hands of the workers were pierced by the thorns of those berry vines. A cold and nasty job, until years later, new methods of harvesting came about. Fields today are flooded with water, causing the ripened berries to float and machines suck up the floating berries.
A “new” cranberry has been developed by the University of Wisconsin, named “Sweetie” for its sweet flavor. I’m sure that in the next year we will begin seeing this cranberry in our markets. I am looking forward to not having to add the amount of sugar today’s berries require.
A dear friend of mine, Ann, travelled to their second home in New York State for the Thanksgiving weekend. I received a call from Ann asking for my whole cranberry sauce recipe. “Do you have Grand Marnier liquor?” I asked. “No, but I’ll send my husband Peter out for it,” Ann replied. I asked Ann if it was snowing, and yes, they had 6 inches of snow on the ground, she said. I told Ann, if she really wanted the recipe to be as delicious as it is meant to be, they needed the Grand Marnier, snow or no snow.
I often talk about why so many cooks follow a recipe, and not having one or two of the ingredients, make it anyway and then can’t understand why they didn’t like the results. It only takes one ingredient to change the taste of a recipe.
Cranberries are not just for their traditional sauce served during the holidays, but those berries today can be found dried and in bags the same as raisins or apricots.
Cranberries have many health advantages in either juice or dried form. Much like grapefruit, these berries can create health issues with their interaction of medications. Make sure to check with your physician if you plan on eating or drinking daily, the berries in any form.
I like to plump the cranberries by pouring white wine of any variety, over them in a dish and letting them soak in the refrigerator overnight. I add them to a lettuce salad with a balsamic vinegar dressing. These dried berries can take the place of raisins in any recipe such as strudels, cookies or fruitcake.
Late night holiday sandwiches often contain slices of turkey, a layer of dressing and a spoonful or two of cranberry sauce. There seems to be no end to the ways to use cranberries.
A day or two prior to Christmas, buy a bag of cranberries and follow the recipe below—your family and you will be happy you did.
Merry Christmas, dear Readers!
Colly’s Whole Cranberry Sauce
• 1 bag (16oz.) Cranberries, washed and picked through for defective berries.
In a saucepan add:
• 1 1/4 cup of granulated sugar, or to taste.
• 1/2 cup of orange juice
• 3/4 cup of water
• 1 tsp. orange zest
• 1 tsp. freshly grated ginger
• 1/4 cup Grand Marnier, set aside to be added later.
Bring to a boil and cook for 2 minutes or until berries stop making popping noises. Take off the heat.
Add berries to a bowl along with reserved Grand Marnier. Stir and refrigerate.
Berries will thicken as they cool.
Colly Gruczelak, a Ben Lomond resident, loves people and loves to cook. Contact her at cz****@co*****.net.
