Savory Herb Butter

November. Thanksgiving approaches in a pandemic, which is the cruelest calendar alignment because Thanksgiving is the holiday that is entirely about gathering and the pandemic is entirely about not gathering, and the collision of these two forces produces a specific kind of pain that is both public and private — public because the whole country is negotiating the same impossible question (do we gather or do we stay apart?) and private because the answer, for each family, is its own heartbreak.

My answer: we do not gather. Not this year. Not with the numbers this high. Not with Mami this fragile. Not with Eduardo's age (fifty-six, healthy, but fifty-six). I announced this on the phone to each child separately, the way a general delivers news of retreat — with clarity, with regret, with the absolute certainty that the retreat is correct even when the retreat hurts. Miguel Jr. understood. Rosa cried. David said he'd planned to come anyway. I said, David, you will not come. He said, But Mami. I said, David. He heard my voice. He did not come.

At the hospital, Thanksgiving is still Thanksgiving. Four hundred plates, the same as every year, except this year the plates are served to patients who are sicker and staff who are more exhausted and a cafeteria that is more needed than ever because the cafeteria is the one room in the hospital that smells like home instead of antiseptic. I made the turkey. I made the gravy. I made the mashed potatoes in the forty-gallon mixer. I stood in the cafeteria at noon and served and the serving was holy and the holy was ordinary and the ordinary was the point.

Thanksgiving dinner at home: me, Eduardo, Sofía. Three people. The table that seats twelve. I made the full menu — turkey, the American spread, because Thanksgiving is the American holiday I have adopted most fully, the one whose premise (feed everyone, be grateful, the table holds us all) aligns most closely with everything I believe. The turkey was twelve pounds. The flan was perfect. The table was quiet. Eduardo said grace. He said, We are grateful to be here. To be healthy. To have food. Sofía said, Amen. I said, Next year we will be sixteen again. I believed it. I had to believe it. The alternative was unbearable.

The turkey at the hospital and the turkey at home both got the same treatment — this herb butter, pressed under the skin with my hands the way my mother taught me, the way I have done it every November for thirty years. When you are feeding four hundred, the butter is the thing that makes each plate feel like someone cared. When you are feeding three, at a table that seats twelve, the butter is the thing that makes the ritual still feel like itself. I needed the ritual. I needed something in my hands that knew what it was doing, even when everything else had gone sideways. Make this. Rub it in. Set the table. That part, at least, we can still do.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 10 minutes (plus 30 minutes resting) | Servings: 12 (enough for a 12–14 lb turkey)

Ingredients

1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened to room temperature
4 cloves garlic, minced
2 tablespoons fresh thyme leaves, finely chopped
2 tablespoons fresh rosemary, finely chopped
2 tablespoons fresh flat-leaf parsley, finely chopped
1 tablespoon fresh sage, finely chopped
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1/2 teaspoon freshly cracked black pepper
1 teaspoon lemon zest
1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce

Instructions

Soften the butter. Set the butter out at least an hour before you begin — it should yield easily when pressed. Do not melt it. You want it pliable, not liquid.
Prep the herbs. Chop all fresh herbs finely and uniformly. Mince the garlic as small as you can manage. Zest the lemon directly over your cutting board so none of the oil escapes.
Combine. In a medium bowl, combine the softened butter, garlic, thyme, rosemary, parsley, sage, salt, pepper, lemon zest, and Worcestershire sauce. Use a fork or a rubber spatula to work everything together until the herbs and seasonings are evenly distributed throughout.
Taste and adjust. Spread a small amount on a piece of bread or a cracker and taste it. Adjust salt or herbs as needed. The butter should taste savory, bright from the lemon, and deeply herbed.
Rest before using. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and let the butter rest at room temperature for 30 minutes so the flavors meld. For turkey, press 3/4 of the butter directly under the skin over the breast and thighs, and rub the remainder over the exterior.
Store. Any unused butter can be rolled into a log in plastic wrap or parchment and refrigerated for up to 1 week, or frozen for up to 3 months. It is excellent on roasted vegetables, dinner rolls, and corn.

Nutrition (per serving)

Savory Herb Butter — The Table That Still Had to Be Set