Why I’m Making Thanksgiving Dinner the Day Before (And You Should, Too)

When hosting a Thanksgiving feast, it seems that people under age 45 feel obligated to wake up at 4 a.m. to start the turkey, prep the dough for yeasted rolls, and peel a 10-pound bag of potatoes. I know this from experience, both as a guest and, admittedly, as a host myself. That’s a ridiculous amount of pressure to put on yourself, and it’s mostly self-imposed (looking at you, mothers-in-law).

I suspect it’s because millennials grew up watching Monica freak out about her Thanksgiving menu on Friends, and panicking as Meg Ryan’s character did her last-minute Thanksgiving shopping in You’ve Got Mail. For some reason, we all think holiday meals have to be made like we’re competing with Cat Cora on Iron Chef. 

If we’re not racing around the kitchen drenched in stress sweat, we’re doing it wrong! Every freshly-made dish must be on the table at the exact right temperature, at the exact right time! The turkey must be seasoned with the salt of our tears!

Enough of that. Let’s take a page out of our grandmothers’ cookbooks. Metaphorically, of course, because women over 80 exclusively cook from scraps of paper, memory, and recipes on the back of a box. The secret to a calmer, more memorable Thanksgiving is to cook dinner yesterday.

Up until 2020, my grandma, Marilyn, hosted a holiday feast for about 30 of us, including the priest from her neighborhood’s parish. She made the turkey on Thursday morning, so it was ready for dinner at 4 p.m. Everything else, though, was prepared and ready to go on Wednesday.

She made a batch of stuffing in the largest bowl I’ve ever seen, which was split between two enormous Granite Ware roasters, then put in the refrigerator to rest until Thursday. Marilyn dunked a full 25 pounds of peeled spuds in a stockpot full of cold water and tucked them in the refrigerator, too, ready to boil and mash the next day. She even boiled red cabbage the day before for maximum flavor, and while I thought the smell was enough to curl my nostril hairs, I appreciated her commitment to tradition.

By the time I was old enough to help, my role was to provide color commentary and help my mom, Patty, make seven pies (four pumpkin, two pecan, one prune—don’t ask). My mom would make the crust on Tuesday, then let the dough hydrate in the refrigerator overnight. We’d go over to my grandma’s house early on Wednesday morning to bake them because she had two ovens, one in her kitchen and one in the basement.

I will never forget learning how to bake with my mom, who taught me how to roll out tender, flaky crust, use a rolling pin to drape it over a pie plate, and flute the edges. We’d make double batches of pumpkin filling, using the recipe on the back of the Libby’s can, and gooey pecan pies with the recipe from the Karo bottle.

When we were done with prep, usually by early afternoon, we’d pull out all of my grandma’s serving dishes. She’d place a scrap of paper in each one with the dish it would hold: corn, mashed potatoes, turkey, gravy, stuffing, bread. Every dish would have a home on the table, with no last-minute anxiety.

The next day, as people arrived at my grandma’s house, the meal would come together as if by magic. We’d all sit around the table, which was really three long tables placed end to end in the basement, and fill our plates with the Thanksgiving essentials. The meal brought all of us together, my extended family, all in one place, to talk, laugh, and share each other’s company.

This year, stress less and enjoy Thanksgiving more. Prep early, serve a simple, delicious meal, and spend the day with family and friends. No one has to know you did most of the work on Wednesday.