A HARTE APPETITE: CRANBERRIES ADD HISTORY, FLAVOR TO THANKSGIVING

Ever heard of the cranberry bounce? No, it's not a dance step from the Roaring '20s but a method for sorting good cranberries from bad ones.

According to Ocean Spray Inc., the cranberry bounce was discovered in the 1880s by John "Peg Leg" Webb, a New Jersey farmer. Because he was one-legged, he was unable to carry his cranberry crop down the stairs from the storage loft in his barn and so simply poured the berries down the steps. He noticed that the best fruit bounced to the bottom of the steps while spoiled or bruised ones remained where they were. Today cranberry processors still sort cranberries, sometimes called bounceberries, by their springiness.

Had it not been for Webb's advance, cranberries might not be so readily available today, and that would be a shame. For what would Thanksgiving be without cranberries? More so than sweet potatoes, or pumpkin pie, or even the turkey itself, it seems to me that cranberries are the most indispensable food to this holiday. And that's probably as it should be because though there is some controversy about the menu for the first Thanksgiving celebration, historians are pretty sure that cranberries, one of only three major fruits indigenous to North America, were on it. (The other two, by the way, are the blueberry and the Concord grape.)

As Jack Robertiello, writing in Americas magazine, reasons, it's likely that Native Americans brought cranberries to the first Thanksgiving because the cranberry was already an important fruit to Indians, such as the Wampanoags of Cape Cod, long before the Pilgrims arrived at Plymouth Rock. They not only used it for food, combining it with fat and ground venison or bear meat to create something called pemmican, which was formed into cakes and dried in the sun, they used it in a variety of other ways as well. They dyed rugs and blankets with cranberry juice, boiled the berry in poultices used to treat arrow wounds, and settled their differences over a cranberry offering. Indeed, the name of the Delaware chief, Pakimintzen, who distributed cranberries at peace feasts not unlike the first Thanksgiving, came to mean "cranberry eater."

Though various Indian tribes had different names for the cranberry (the Wampanoags' ibimi, meaning bitter berry, was an appropriate one), most authorities give the Pilgrims credit for coining the term cranberry. Originally they referred to them as crane-berries because the pink blossom of the fruit resembles the head of a crane. Later the term was shortened to cranberry.

It didn't take long for the Pilgrims to catch on to the value of cranberries. Recipes for cranberry sauce appear as early as 1663 in The Pilgrim Cookbook, and the recipe for the first cranberry juice cocktail can be found in the Compleat Cook's Guide published in 1683. The settlers also used the berries for decorative purposes, such as to adorn Christmas trees. Soon enough the cranberry became one of the three most prized commodities of the Puritans along with corn and codfish. In fact, in 1773 the colonists passed a law making it a crime for anyone on Cape Cod to pick more than a quart of cranberries before the peak harvest in September.

Thank goodness the berries are not rationed today, for living as we do in an area where they are available only from mid-September through December, I routinely freeze 10 to 15 bags of them every year around this time. They'll keep in the freezer for close to a year. Generally, it's best not to thaw them before using. If I run out I can always resort to those wonderful dried cranberries that are now available, sometimes marketed as "craisins," in supermarkets.

We eat cranberries year-round at our house because they are one of my favorite fruits. It's shortsighted, I think, to enjoy them only at the holidays or to relegate them to the relish tray. I like to put them in chocolate chip cookies, cheesecake, sorbet, bread pudding, pies, scones, muffins, gingerbread, coffee cakes, fruitcakes, brownies, fudge, and, believe it or not, tiramisu. (Give me cranberries jubilee over the cherries version any day!) They make an excellent accompaniment to main dishes such as pork, chicken, burgers, curry dishes, and, of course, turkey, and they can enliven a bowl of chili or a salad. Their juice adds an interesting touch to champagne, sangria, mixed drinks like Mai Tais and Margaritas, not to mention punch, iced tea, and even hot buttered rum. No wonder that when we last visited Plymouth, Mass., I was more excited about touring Cranberry World than the replica of the Mayflower.

So as one who truly relishes cranberries, I offer three of my favorite recipes suitable for your Thanksgiving table or, for that matter, any time of the year. Though I would be the last person to scorn a jellied cylinder of cranberry sauce coaxed right out of the can, these recipes, I hope you will agree, take the "bog ruby" to an even higher level.

Cranberry Chutney

I like to make this by the vat and serve it instead of the traditional cranberry sauce at Thanksgiving dinner. (It's also nice served over a block of cream cheese as an appetizer spread.) Chutney, of course, is an East Indian sweet and sour condiment that can be made out of almost any fruit and which includes vinegar, sugar, and spices. This recipe is based on one from Julia Child that I clipped from Parade Magazine years ago. I've opted for minced ginger rather than grated and whereas she called for currants, I substitute raisins because I think the smaller currants tend to get lost in this mixture. Besides, raisins are cheaper too.

Ingredients:

1 cup sliced onions

1 cup water

3/4 cup dark brown sugar

1/2 cup white sugar

3/4 cup cider vinegar

2 tart apples, peeled, seeded, and diced

1/2 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon fresh minced ginger

1/2 teaspoon mace

1/2 teaspoon curry powder

2 oranges

1 pound cranberries

1/2 cup raisins

Directions:

Simmer onions, water, and sugars for 30 minutes. Add vinegar, apples, salt, ginger, mace, curry powder, and the grated rind of the oranges. Simmer another 30 minutes. Add cranberries, raisins, and the strained juice of the oranges. Boil slowly for about 10 minutes until cranberries burst. Makes 1 quart.

Cranberry Walnut Pie

Native Americans enjoyed eating cranberries with maple syrup. That wonderful combination is at the heart of this recipe based on one from Bon Appetit magazine in which, not surprisingly, I have doubled the number of cranberries called for. The crunch and flavor of the walnuts when added to the other ingredients make this a dessert that will challenge pumpkin pie as the obvious way to end your Thanksgiving meal.

Ingredients:

1 single pie crust

3/4 cup packed golden brown sugar

2 large eggs

3/4 cup maple syrup

2 tablespoons melted butter

1 teaspoon vanilla

1/4 teaspoon salt

2 cups coarsely chopped walnuts

2 cups coarsely chopped cranberries

Directions:

Beat sugar and eggs to blend. Whisk in syrup, butter, vanilla, and salt. Stir in walnuts and cranberries. Pour filling into prepared crust and bake at 400 degrees for 10 minutes. Reduce oven temperature to 350 degrees and bake until filling is set, about 35 to 45 minutes longer. Cool before serving.

Cranberry Pear Soup

Recipes for cranberry soup are rare. I could only find one in my collection. Even my favorite cranberry cookbook, put out by Ocean Spray and containing some 200 recipes, had none for soup. Similarly, I could track down but one on the Internet despite the huge database accessible there. So I developed the following recipe, a streamlined version inspired by one I ran across in my search. It's a pretty soup that can be served either hot or cold with a dollop of sour cream or yogurt.

Ingredients:

1 cup cranberries

2 cups cranberry juice cocktail

1 can (15 oz.) pear halves

1/2 teaspoon cinnamon

1/2 teaspoon nutmeg

1/2 teaspoon ginger

Directions:

Simmer cranberries in juice for 10 minutes. Drain, saving juice, and place in food processor. Drain pears and add to processor. Add spices and process until smooth. Add reserved juice until desired consistency. Serves four to six people.

Got a recipe you'd like to share with our readers? Are you looking for a recipe for something in particular? Send your recipes and requests to A Harte Appetite, c/o The Southeast Missourian, P.O. Box 699, Cape Girardeau, MO., 63702-0699 or by e-mail to tharte@semovm.semo.edu.

~Tom Harte is a professor at Southeast Missouri State University and writes a food column every other week for the Southeast Missourian.