Three cranberry sauces, three wildly different reactions — one is classic and spoonable, one tastes like dessert, and one is for the grown-ups. Try one (or all) this year.
Don’t laugh, but I think this post might be the closest I have come to service journalism on this site. I say this because, honestly, I have no idea what I am going to do with three batches of cranberry sauce I’ve cooked over the last week, but if at least one of them makes it home with you, I suppose this effort won’t be a waste after all. Is this as noble and un-self-serving of me as it sounds? Of course not — I love cranberry sauce — I just have a little bit more than a two-person household should ever need.
I’m not sure if it was because I was a vegetarian and without the turkey, the cranberry sauce made no sense, because I thought it always came from a can in a fun-to-play-with but terrifying-to-eat cylinder, or because I just didn’t like it, but I never ate cranberry sauce growing up. It wasn’t until my first year in New York when I lived in a worn and infested fourth-floor walkup on Avenue B with my friend Dan that I had the real deal, and completely fell in love. Dan’s from Massachusetts and from what I understand, they take cranberry sauce pretty seriously up there, or at least he did, simmering, zesting oranges and carefully sifting through the rinsed bag for deflated or still stem-attached berries. This classic cranberry sauce recipe (which I am sure he’ll tell me I’m getting wrong) will always be my favorite, stirred into plain or vanilla yogurt or simply taken spoon-to-mouth. I hedge on the sugar a little, preferring it on the tart side, but I never skimp on the orange peel, as there’s a reason it is so often paired with cranberries: they bring out the best in each other. A few julienned or thick-zested strips in the sauce is one of my favorite parts; simmered in the stunning rouge syrup, they candy like an orangette, and are a fantastic surprise when you run across them in your hungry tasting. Lest you need any more evidence of its greatness, look how little we have left from a week ago.
The second cranberry sauce is Alex’s mother’s recipe and his family’s absolute favorite, despite my efforts to convert them to the back-of-the-bag classic. It’s terrifyingly simple (I’ll let you find out for yourself at the end, but promise that you’ll laugh), but I’m warning you, addictive. With mixed berries and walnuts, it seems more dessert than dinner, in my opinion, and the spoonful we had over vanilla gelato two nights ago was almost unbearably delicious. Alex’s mother told him she had a new recipe to try this year – something with jalapeños and ingredients that scare me – and he said, “sure, sounds good, but only if you make the other one, too.”
The final recipe is a new one and for the record, my husband was absolutely horrified at the thought of it, but I persevered. I mean, port? Love it. Balsamic? Ditto. Dried figs? Yum. Black pepper? Intriguing. Rosemary? Could be. Brown sugar? Hells yeah. All together with cranberries? Er, ah, …it took me an hour to even try it and even now, I’m just not sure I fell in love. (Right now, Alex is biting his tongue, but I’m sure it won’t be long until he says “told you so!”). It’s … (hang on, let me try it again) … wine-y. I think it would go well with turkey, or even some roasted potatoes. I’m just not sure it’s good for spooning, and if there’s anything the above two recipes should hint to you, it’s that I like the stand-alone cranberry sauce. At your Thanksgiving table, however, I’m sure it will get no complaints, a sauce for the sauced grownups, if you will.
Adapted from the back of the Ocean Spray cranberry bag, and my friend Dan
Makes | Main flavor notes | Storage |
|---|---|---|
2 1/4 cups | Orange zest, tart-sweet | Refrigerate until serving (can be made ahead, see Do ahead) |
Ingredient | Amount |
|---|---|
Jellied cranberry sauce (canned) | 1 (15-oz) can |
Whole-berry cranberry sauce (canned) | 1 (15-oz) can |
Frozen mixed berries (not defrosted) | 1 bag |
Chopped walnuts | 1 handful |
Combine the port, balsamic, brown sugar, chopped figs, rosemary sprig, and ground black pepper in a medium saucepan. Bring to a boil, stirring until sugar dissolves. Reduce heat and simmer 10 minutes; then discard the rosemary. Stir in the cranberries and 3/4 cup sugar. Cook over medium heat until the liquid is slightly reduced and berries have burst, about 6 minutes, stirring occasionally. Cool, transfer to a bowl, and chill until cold.
Cranberry sauce can be prepared up to 1 week ahead. Cover and keep refrigerated.
Tip |
|---|
Prefer tart? Reduce the sugar slightly — the author likes hers less sweet. |
Don’t skimp on orange peel in the classic recipe — zest cooks down and candies, giving pockets of flavor. |
If you rinse berries, make sure they’re very dry so powdered sugar (if used) will stick. |
Alex’s mother’s version is no-cook and uses canned cranberry bases plus frozen mixed berries — simple and addictive. |
The port-and-fig sauce is winey and grown-up; it’s great with turkey or roasted potatoes but may not be best for spooning solo. |
