Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday, and a lovely snowfall enhances it. These days, however even white Christmases are rare. In December, there used to be heaps of snow dumped at intersections by snowplows. Not till January nowadays.

Still, I remember one “white Thanksgiving” when there was a foot of snow. The sky was beautifully white, nature in general made me ecstatic, and I struggled happily through the snow in hiking boots that were far from waterproof.

You ask, Why not waterproof boots? One year we wore waterproof knee-length rubber boots, but they gave us blisters, so we went back to hiking boots. Most of us wore hiking boots and extra-warm parkas that, in theory, would keep us warm on an Arctic expedition. We scuttled through the snow or climbed snowbanks in sub-zero temperatures in our hiking boots.There was scuttling, slipping, sliding, sledding on cafeteria trays…

During our first years away from home, the traditional turkey did not make an appearance. One year we had a rabbit stew, possibly a ragout, from a recipe in a Julia Child cookbook. I was the one who had to cook it, furiously because our amateur chef had gone out and gotten drunk, and it turned out well only because I left out half the ingredients and guessed most of the directions more or less correctly. Another year we made a complicated shrimp dish that swam in butter. We bought the shrimp at a Chinese grocery, the only place in town that sold fresh fish.

The reaction was not universally positive.

“Where’s the turkey?” Bob Cratchit asked. I call him Bob Cratchit because he wore a scarf, really an Ascot, which gave him a modern Cratchit look. He always had a red nose and a cold, doubtless because he lived in chilly lodgings, and tried to “warm himself at the candle.” He made a bare living as an adjunct at the university, and claimed the students gave him colds.

Waifs used to show up. One year a Russian guy arrived with a guitar. Oh God, there has never been a less musical group than we were. I personally cannot carry a tune. Fortunately, the Russian student who invited him devoted himself to the musician. Years later, it seemed that every person I met had sung with an amateur band. If only they had been there…

Eventually we ceased the “gourmet” cooking and converted to the Thanksgiving turkey. Why? Because it is SO much easier. I don’t know what people do who say they are frazzled on the holidays. In my experience, you throw the turkey in the oven and baste it. That’s it.

You also need some kind of potatoes, but so long as you don’t read the recipes in posh newspapers you are fine. These recipes order you to do complicated things with “hassleback” potatoes. Do they hassle you? They certainly seem to do.

My suggestion? Boil potatoes, mash them, and add butter or gravy. The mashed potato is the greatest dish on earth.

But enjoy your hassleback potatoes if you have them.

Happy Thanksgiving!