
The trick-or-treaters have come and gone. The ghosts, goblins, and witches have retreated into the blue bin for another year, and just today, my husband placed our order for the Thanksgiving turkey at our local Publix supermarket.
This year we are hosting Thanksgiving for the first time in nearly twenty-five years for the family since our children left for college, and the first time we’ve all been in the same state after leaving Connecticut. My husband is beyond excited, already discussing what side dishes we’ll have. (I’m not sure why this needs to be discussed…we never deviate from the favorites!) Yet the cook/baker in me yearned to whip up something different. However, instead of an appetizer or a gluten-free pumpkin something dessert, I tumbled down the rabbit hole and came across a list of Thanksgiving foods we no longer serve.
Turtle Soup
In the 1890s, green turtle soup shows up again and again on Thanksgiving menus. One New York hotel menu from 1899 listed a clear green turtle soup at sixty-five cents. Many menus also offered terrapin, a small diamondback turtle from the Chesapeake Bay. It was a luxury. One researcher estimates a plate of Terrapin Ala Maryland would cost about $100 in today’s money.
Cooks on a budget made mock turtle soup out of calf’s head. Wild turtles ran low though, and the price collapsed around 1916. Prohibition usually gets the blame since the soup needed sherry, but one study found the slide started earlier. By the late 1970s, terrapin had dropped off menus completely. Today, the states bordering the Chesapeake Bay protect them.
Celery in a Vase
In the 1800s, celery was hard to grow. It had to be blanched, either buried in trenches or wrapped in paper to keep out the light. It was also hard to keep fresh, so it counted as a luxury. Families showed it off in tall glass vases arranged like a bouquet, and those vases made popular wedding gifts. Wealthy hosts made celery the centerpiece of the dinner table. Middle-class families often saved it for the end of holiday meals, and celery sat near the top of many Thanksgiving menus.

Farming caught up, and celery got cheaper. By 1889, one catering guide complained that celery vases had become too common for fashionable tables, and celery moved to long, narrow dishes, eventually landing on the relish tray.
Chestnuts
Those same 1890s menus often served the turkey with chestnuts, and chestnut stuffing was a holiday staple. American chestnut trees once filled the forests of the east. In some places, they made up a quarter or more of the forest canopy. Then in 1904, a forester noticed cankers on chestnut trees at the Bronx Zoo. The cause was a fungus that arrived on imported Asian trees. It spread roughly fifty miles a year. By 1940, the American chestnut was finished as a commercial tree and estimates say three to four billion of them died. Stump sprouts still grow from the old roots, but the blight keeps killing them. Researchers are testing blight resistant trees, so this one might come back.
Side note: I don’t know where my parents purchased them or how much they cost, but we had roasted chestnuts along with desserts after The Feast of Seven Fishes every Christmas Eve.
Frozen Punch
On many 1890s Thanksgiving menus, a frozen punch appeared in the middle of the meal. It was called Roman punch, a slushy mix of lemon, sugar, and rum, sometimes topped with champagne.
Its job was to reset your taste buds between rich courses. One food historian called it virtually
obligatory at important dinners in the 1800s. It was served at the White House during Rutherford Hayes’s presidency, even though he and his wife, known as Lemonade Lucy, were temperance advocates. It even appeared on the Titanic’s last first-class menu. Then dinners got shorter. One history of formal dining notes that by the Kennedy years, fancy dinners were settling on four courses. With fewer courses, the punch lost its place.
Oyster stuffing
Along the east coast, oysters were everyday food. Cooks tucked them into bread stuffing for moisture and flavor, and early American cookbooks include recipes for it. One railroad museum estimates New Yorkers in the 1800s ate roughly 600 oysters per person each year. Farther inland, oysters were a treat. Refrigerated train cars started carrying them to the middle of the country in the mid-1800s, but the trip wasn’t cheap, so a big holiday was worth the splurge.
The supply did not last. Pollution and over-harvesting wrecked the oyster beds, and New York’s last commercial oyster bed shut down in 1927. Prices climbed. Today oyster dressing survives in parts of the South and along the Gulf Coast, often made with canned oysters.
Mincemeat Pie
The kind made with actual meat. Early American mince pies used beef, sometimes venison, and some old recipes even called for tongue (eww!). The meat was mixed with sweet, apples, dried fruit, spices, and brandy. The sugar and alcohol helped preserve it, and the whole process could take about a month.
Amelia Simmons’s American Cookery, printed in 1796, includes three mince pie recipes. In 1890s menus, mince pie and plum pudding turned up nearly as often as pumpkin. In 1903, Heinz Food Company was still pitching it for Thanksgiving, but the meat kept shrinking. Commercial mincemeat arrived in the 1880s, and slowly the beef left the jar.

Side Note: Next to apple pie, mincemeat pie is my husband’s favorite…he’s already purchased two jars!
Pigeon Pie
Not city pigeons, passenger pigeons, with billions of them alive at their peak. In 1871, one nesting area in Wisconsin covered about eight hundred fifty square miles with an estimated one hundred thirty-six million breeding adult birds. Cooks baked them into pies, and pigeon pie was a popular holiday side dish in early America. Some historians think passenger pigeons may even have been at the first Thanksgiving in 1621.
Hunters used the telegraph to find the flocks and railroads shipped the birds to city markets by the barrel. By the 1890s, wild flocks had shrunk to almost nothing
Indian Pudding
New England colonists missed British hasty pudding, but wheat flour was scarce. So, they used cornmeal, which they called Indian meal, and sweetened it with molasses. They baked itlow and slow, letting it set in the leftover heat of the hearth.
Amelia Simmons printed three versions in 1796. It became a classic New England holiday dessert, but it never looked like much, and apple and pumpkin pie took over.
Ambrosia
The first recipe we know of appeared in 1867 in a southern cookbook called Dixie Cookery by Maria Massie Behringer. It had three ingredients: grated coconut, oranges, and sugar. That was a big deal. Railroads had recently connected Florida oranges and imported coconuts to the rest of the country, so the dish felt exotic.
Three years later, Godey’s Ladies Magazine agreed with the recipe, but offered pineapple as an alternative. Some cooks used both, the magazine said, but one fruit was better. Later, cooks added cherries, marshmallows, and cream. Purists still say real ambrosia is just oranges and coconut. The dish never fully died in the South, but elsewhere, the marshmallow and fruit bowl has mostly vanished from the Thanksgiving table.
Gelatin Salads
In 1905, a Pennsylvania woman named Mrs. John E. Cook entered a recipe contest sponsored by Knox Gelatin. Her Perfection Salad ingredients included cabbage, red peppers, celery suspended in gelatin. It didn’t win first prize, but it became famous anyway.

By the 1930s and 1940s, serving a gelatin salad hinted that you owned a refrigerator. The 1950s were the golden age. One Jello-O ad called for lime gelatin, cottage cheese, grated onion, and a scoop of seafood salad in the middle. Jell-o Brand gelatin even sold celery and seasoned tomato flavors! By then, Americans were making more gelatin salad than jellied meat.
Side Note: My aunt made a lime gelatin salad with sour cream, maraschino cherries, and walnuts every Christmas and a Strawberry Pretzel salad layered with pretzels, sweetened cream cheese, and topped with strawberries suspended in strawberry Jell-O.
When I mentioned these dishes (other than mincemeat pie) to my husband, he gave me a look, rolled his eyes, and muttered a remark that I chose to ignore. (Sigh) I guess I won’t be expanding my culinary expertise this Thanksgiving.
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Which of these forgotten Thanksgiving dishes would you try? Or does your family still make and enjoy one or more of these dishes?
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I love random facts (science teacher) and today I’m sharing some cow facts with you.
sometimes make best friends.
Cows do not really have four stomachs–they have a compartmentalized stomach with each of the four compartments having a different job in digestion.







