Did Squanto know from soybeans?

Easily the saddest food story I’ve read in a while was the Journal’s on fake turkeys, in all their freakish un-glory. Could anyone really feel celebratory carving up a loaf of something shaped like Velveeta and the color of simian dung? Even worse was the tofu turkey sculpted like the real deal but with a cavity for stuffing — a little too close to inflatable sex toy for comfort. Why not just serve pumpkin lasagne and enjoy yourself? But then the trend this year seems to be making Thanksgiving as complicated as it can possibly be when it’s really just a glorified chicken dinner. There’s no need to freak-and-freeze out. As much as I don’t like trying to reinvent it in words and recipes year after year after year, it’s my favorite holiday because it’s all about cooking without pressure. Step one: Throw out your magazines and newspapers. Otherwise you’ll be reheating biscotti while mopping up your own exploding head.