Birds of a Feather Stuffed Together

Thanksgiving brings family squabbles big and large, including my own family’s continued debate over the presence of a unique dish on our dinner table.

Thanksgiving, a national treasure full of football, food, and family squabbles, has recently passed. While it is a holiday meant to be centered on gratitude, Thanksgiving ends up causing more hair to be pulled out than anything else. Family trash talk about in-laws, who’s out of a job, and the great American divide, politics, make this a holiday more enjoyed for the full week off of school that it provides than the gathering around the dinner table.

Despite being described as mediocre by many, and much to the chagrin of resident history teacher and mildly outspoken vegan Sean Brookes, Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday, in no small part due to the food. Ever since I’ve been little, my entire extended family from my mom’s side gathers every other year in Short Hills, New Jersey for our Thanksgiving celebration. This is an occasion where we can spend a lot of quality time catching up with each other, which we rarely do otherwise. Our biannual reunions never go off without a few squables about who’s staying at my grandmother’s, whether we’ll take advantage of the lack of sales tax and brave the mall for some Black Friday shopping, but most importantly, as it seems with all arguments in Jewish families, about the food. Who’s making the food, when and where it’s being made, and what it is. My uncle always takes point on the main course, with a fried turkey and roast being his specialties, and everyone else filling in with appetizers, sides, and desserts. But every year, months before Thanksgiving is upon us, my Uncle Johnny pitches an idea that my brother wholeheartedly supports and my mom gags at the thought of: a turducken.

For the uninitiated, a turducken is a chicken, stuffed inside of a duck, stuffed inside of a turkey. Chef Paul Prudhomme patented the dish in 1986, although Louisiana brothers Junior and Sammy Hebert claim they Frankensteined the creation. The turducken only truly entered our pop culture lexicon when it was popularized by football legend John Madden. Some, especially those of us like myself who are not football enthusiasts, may only recognize the name from the video game series named for him. Madden is also renowned for his prolific coaching career, especially his 10-season tenure with the Raiders, as well as his long lasting position as a broadcaster. The turducken was first introduced to Madden by Glenn Mistich during the Rams-Saints game on December 1, 1996. It was love at first bite for Madden, who after trying it said, “I love it. I absolutely love it.” Madden’s mentions of the turducken became a staple of his Thanksgiving Day broadcasts, and continue to appear in tributes to him after his passing, almost a year ago.

So how would Madden feel about my family’s Thanksgiving? He’d love the fact that we spend hours watching football games, much to my chagrin. On the note of the turducken, he’d be all for it. Even with Madden’s endorsement, my mom still isn’t on Team Turducken, describing it as “a disrespect to each of the animals involved.”

To get another opinion, I decided to call the captain of Team Turducken himself, my uncle, Jonathan Bersch, to talk all things Thanksgiving. He was successful in gaining the opportunity to cook a turducken one year, which was apparently “a disaster” (my nuclear family was not in attendance during that debacle). Even with this less than positive first foray into the world of turduckens, Bersch “would definitely do a turducken again,” despite a mid-sentence “no” interruption from my Aunt Julia.

Even though the idea of one stirs some disgust inside of me, I do see the merits in my uncle’s argument. It’s something unique and different, and since this is our one big food-based gathering, we might as well go all out. “If you’re predisposed to family, if you’re predisposed to food as a social lubricant and as something that is important to your family, then I think it’s something worthwhile to do,” Bersch said.

(Photo by Caroline Crain / The Jaguardian)

Uncle Johnny carving a brisket, one of the many proteins served at Bersch family Thanksgiving gatherings.

So will I ever see a turducken at a Bersch family Thanksgiving? Not likely. Even though my brother claims he “will not show up if it’s not there,” unfortunately for him, my mom is the one who plans our trips. This, of course, doesn’t mean that my uncle and brother won’t stop fighting for one, and my mom and aunt won’t stop shooting the idea down.

Thanksgiving family dynamics fall into one of two categories: a thing of beauty or an unholy catastrophe. My family’s lucky that we seem to avoid arguments of a more critical nature, and Thanksgiving always ends with us getting along fine. But regardless, families are messy. Members may come from the same lineage, but are noticeably different in the perspectives they bring to the table. They are forced together during this holiday and smushed into living quarters that are often too small. And this can lead to an absolutely delicious combination, or Frankenstein’s worst creation. Families become either a turducken, or a monster straight from Hell.