I hear you. I see you. I’ve been you. And I’ve come out the other side with advice to share. Before I can start, though, I need to come out and tell the truth: my truth. You’ve read the title of this article, so you already know that I’m going to approach this potential dilemma from both sides. My ability to do so—my lived experience—comes firmly from the former (and non-parenthesized) option. I am (generally) a much better cook than my friends.
I was raised in what we now commonly refer to as an “ingredient household,” for a variety of reasons. Yes, my parents are both health-conscious artsy-types, but perhaps even more critically, my mom is allergic to about a thousand food groups, and celiac runs in our family (she and I are both gluten-free). Why am I sharing this? Well, when options are limited, you get very good at them, and I think this presents a valuable metaphor for the upcoming Thanksgiving festivities. I’ll explain.
I started cooking at a very young age, in the kitchen with my grandmother, aunts, and cousins, and I learned how to cook the important foods that mark our history and traditions. But when our own cultural dishes (we’re very, very Italian) were full of ingredients my mom couldn’t eat, we branched out. My parents researched and explored cuisines and dishes that were naturally gluten-free and allergen-free (for us), like pho, sushi, pad thai, etc! Instead of my mom’s dietary requirements leading to some resentment for their limiting factor, they became chances to expand and bring in new and exciting opportunities.
When you’re living with someone with allergies or dietary restrictions, it can be easier to simply say, “You cook for yourself, and I’ll cook for me,” but that doesn’t push you as a cook, and it especially doesn’t push you as a friend. In the same way, if you’re planning a Friendsgiving with a group that probably has uneven dietary restrictions and definitely has uneven culinary experience, it might seem easier to throw in the towel. “You bring what you want to eat, and at least you’ll have that, right?”
Wrong, I argue! This is friendship! This is choosing one another against all odds. It’s showing up when it counts. And maybe even making a spreadsheet (your STEM friend can do it, she knows how, don’t worry).
Option 1: You’re a Much Better Cook than Your Friends
This seems to be the easier of the two sides, but I’ll argue that for a moment. There’s that pesky little thing called resentment. Sure, you LOVE her. But when she brings napkins to the potluck, maybe you do feel a little twinge of disdain. Never fear. Take a deep breath.
The most important thing is balance. Assess your own levels of nitpicking. If there’s something on the Thanksgiving table that you absolutely cannot tolerate being made by hands you don’t respect, it’s your responsibility to take on a bit more. But in favor of presenting a solution where you don’t just Monica all over the day and make everything yourself (and then complain that no one helped?) I’ll even offer a suggestion that’s dish-specific.
Experienced chefs should take on the more technically-focused menu items and leave the ingredient-focused options for others. For example, mashed potatoes will seem simple to a beginner cook—foolproof, even—but they’ll ruin them. Overworked, tough, gummy. Pull out the ricer, delete your sassy text, and roll up your own sleeves. Don’t let them make a pie.
Let your friend bring something they already feel comfortable cooking and are actually excited about. It might not be what you grew up with, if you grew up with Thanksgiving at all, but it’s an opportunity to experience something new. Scrambled eggs for Thanksgiving? Great. Vegetarian protein! And it’s a chance to see a bit closer into your friend’s soul. Isn’t that beautiful?
Option 2: You’re a Far Worse Cook than Your Friends
I’ve touched on this already above, so I’ll leave this as a bit of a pep talk.
You’ve got this. There’s nothing to it.
Say you have a slightly Type A friend: send them the recipe you’re planning to make first. Speaking as one of them, obnoxious culinary friends will be appeased by a recipe from NYT Cooking, Bon Appetit, Cook’s Illustrated, or an Instagram-famous private chef who works in the Hamptons. Please, and I say this for your own sanity, do not send your arrogant friend an untested online recipe from “[Insert Name] Bakes Cookies” or god forbid, the “Food Network.” Don’t tell us how many stars it has. It won’t affect how little we trust or respect it.
As I said above, you can always bring something you’re already comfortable cooking. But if you really want to be involved in the traditional table, I’ll offer some targeted advice. Take on the dish that is the closest to a sum of its parts. You can’t mess it up! Find a great harvest salad recipe, or stuffing! Find a good recipe, and just follow it.
Good luck!