Happy November, everyone. And I mean that in the truest possible sense: I hope that, despite everything going on in The World™ right now, you’re managing to carve out some semblance of happiness. Easier said than done, but this is why we have mindfulness and meditation and community and connection and puppies and stuff.

I personally have had a rough November — we said goodbye to our beloved senior dog, which was incredibly hard even though we adopted her in the twilight of her life. We recognized the impermanence of her time on a logical level … but logic don’t pay the bills when that time finally comes. Add in the everyday stressors of US life and it’s been a rough month in House JSG.

So what’s a fellow to do? Some people move through the Kubler-Ross stages of grief, but that model is as outdated as it is generally unfounded. That’s why I follow the Saint Germain model instead:

• Sob openly
• Grab dessert
• Write a private goodbye letter to your loved one(s)
• Ruminate on the passage of time
• Make an inane ranked list of something

And I’m already through the first four stages. That means it’s time for some rankings, baby!

In the mid-2010s, my buddy and I started a blog because of course we did. It was mostly nonsense, and I’d argue the most nonsensical thing I did there was rank things. All rankings are inherently silly and subjective, but damn it, they’re fun. And since we’re getting close to Thanksgiving, I figured I’d dust off a classic. Rankings and explanations are below, along with any newfound perspective the last 10 years have taught me. Enjoy!

1. Stuffing (Previous Ranking: 1)

As far as I’m concerned, you cannot beat bread. This is one of life’s greatest truisms. Everybody loves bread. Every culture has their take on bread. There are, by my estimation, four billion varieties of bread in the world — and they’re all wonderful. So what happens when you take that bread, cook it with some aromatics and herbs and some type of stock, and bake the whole thing? Epicurean magic happens, that’s what.

Stuffing is both pillowy soft and delightfully crispy depending on your oven’s hot spots. You can add virtually anything you want to it, too. Green apples? I’ve seen it. Mushrooms and wild rice? Nick Offerman is a fan. Oysters? My Grandpa used to love that, and while I personally find his tastes reprehensible, the sheer audacity to pair oysters with Thanksgiving stuffing is worthy of applause. I would honestly be happy if we went the bread pudding route and made a dessert stuffing. Imagine a warm, gooey, baked French toast-style dish with all the delicious warming holiday spices that go into pumpkin pie. If you roll up to your family’s Thanksgiving with that, I promise you can live off that goodwill for years.

2. Gravy (Previous: 2)

Not much change at the top so far. Gravy is effectively the only “sauce” at most Thanksgiving tables; despite its name, cranberry sauce is typically not much of a “sauce” so much as it is a “gelatinous side dish.” And that’s fine! We’ll get to cranberries later. But any good meal is incomplete without a quality sauce, and even if everything at your table is Michelin star-caliber cooking and nothing is dry (which: can I come to your place if that’s the case?), gravy still helps amplify everything further. It’s like steroids in sports but actually useful.

In my original post, I wrote: “So yeah, maybe gravy is pretty great. Maybe they should call it greatvy, for that matter!” I do not still believe this, but I stand behind the sentiment.

3. Pumpkin Soup (Previous: NR)

Oh yeah, now we’re in to some of that new shit. If you’d asked me 10 years ago how to make pumpkin soup, I’d have said “You can make soup out of pumpkins?” Then I’d have probably passed out in a whiskey coma or had a panic attack. (I was not healthy in the mid-2010s.)

Pumpkin soup is something my wife introduced me to. It’s been a staple of her Thanksgivings for years now and a few years ago we got tasked with making it ourselves. I gotta say: believe the hype. In addition to being a non-sweet application of pumpkin, more Thanksgivings should start with a soup course. Gorging yourself during one meal is so passé. Real ones know that to eat all day, you gotta pace yourself.

4. Sweet Potatoes/Yams (Previous: 5)

Sweet potatoes move up a spot this year because of something I (correctly) identified in my 2014 rankings. Take it away, Past JSG:

Think of anything you like that’s made with regular potatoes and then substitute sweet potatoes in. Surprise! Everything’s better now. Chips, purees, mashes, fries, you name it — the sweet potato is the most underrated item at the Thanksgiving table, and it’s not even close.

Man, what a handsome genius who put those thoughts into the ether so many years ago! Truly, he was wise beyond his years. The main thing here is that sweet potatoes are, on their own, better than regular mashed potatoes. There’s more you can do to mashed potatoes, sure — the lack of versatility on add-ins/toppings for sweet potatoes is a fair knock. Often, they’re made too sweet with the addition of brown sugar or, God forbid, marshmallow. We’re looking at a case of Lower Floor, Higher Ceiling, and I’ll take the high ceiling on this one.

5. Brussels Sprouts (Previous: NR)

Another newcomer to the list, and this one comes with a caveat: If prepared badly, there’s no limit to how far down the depth chart I’d send Brussels sprouts. They’d be buried in AA ball out in, like, Frisco or something. But when roasted correctly? And hit with some lemon juice? Maybe some bacon or pancetta as an added bonus? You’re looking at Nolan Arenado: an elite performer at a premium position that elevates the rest of the team. You can really build your whole plate around it, honestly. Or at least the … infield portion of it. Whatever, this analogy works, damnit!

6. Mashed Potatoes (Previous: 8)

If Brussels sprouts are Nolan Arenado, mashed potatoes are Ben Zobrist. Sure, you’re not gonna build your team around them (unless you want your team to win like 70 games). But does your team need a guy like Ben Zobrist? Absolutely. He plays everywhere, hits reasonably well, solid chemistry guy, you know the type.

The key word here is utility. If someone served you a bowl full of mashed potatoes and nothing else, you probably wouldn’t be mad (more confused, I imagine). But if somebody handed you a bowl of just, like, turkey and nothing else? You’d rightly be wondering if you could at LEAST have some potatoes to go with it. There’s a reason that even a bland, basic part of a story or a sports team or a legal procedure is referred to as the “meat and potatoes” of the operation. At least, I assume that’s the reason. I didn’t do any research on the matter because I was too busy daydreaming about a buddy cop comedy called “Meat and Potatoes” about a wisecracking rookie (aka “fresh meat”) and a grizzled Irish veteran (aka “Potatoes”) who are forced to set their differences aside to take down a massive food supply monopoly. Conservatively, I think this idea is worth ten billion dollars. Speaking of:

7. Turkey (Previous: 3)

Look, I get it. Turkey is the centerpiece of the Thanksgiving table. It’s the animal the president pardons and everyone makes a big show out of carving it and you get 40 pounds of leftovers to make sandwiches with afterward. If you’re no good, people will insist the day is ruined, and this wouldn’t have happened if we hadn’t experimented with brining it this year, Beth, the old way was JUST fine, I don’t care how many compliments your brother Gary gets on his briny, deep-fried turkey, whatever happened to just roasting a bird in an oven? Also, I think Gary’s cheating on his wife. No, of course you don’t see it because you don’t want to see it, Beth. He’s your brother and you think he’d never do something like that. But that’s what they said about Dahmer, Beth. That’s what they said about Dahmer.

What was I saying? Oh right: Good for you, turkey. You’re a cool strong popular dish and everyone loves you.

But like … you just suck, man.

Turkey is boring. Even when it’s prepared well, it’s boring. Even if it’s the juiciest bird you’ve ever laid your eyes on, it’s boring. I don’t know how much clearer to make this point. It’s boring! There are hundreds of meat dishes that could take the turkey’s place at Thanksgiving from a dozen different animals and all of them would be an improvement because they’d taste like something.

Truly, ask yourself: If it weren’t tradition, would we prepare turkey at Thanksgiving? Or ever? We already eat upward of 100 pounds of chicken per person per year, according to the National Chicken Council. (Which I’m just now learning is a real thing and I’m delighted by.) And despite the fact it’s been steadily trending downward since the 1960s, that number is similar for total red meat. And turkey? It peaked in the 1990s. That’s right: turkey is the Beanie Babies of food. It’s the Rachel haircut of food. If we didn’t have a nostalgic connection to it, we’d barely think about turkey at all. But one Thursday a year, we don’t just eat turkey, we make it the centerpiece of the whole meal? This is lunacy.

If you offered me a prime rib or a pork crown roast or a fish fry or a seafood boil or fried chicken or beef Wellington or virtually any lamb dish, I’d take them over turkey. If you offered me a compelling vegetarian alternative, I’d be in. Turkey has effectively one thing going for it: it’s a lean protein option on a day of rich, indulgent other dishes. That’s not nothing. It holds up to a lot of cooking methods, which is also nice. But I’d be so much happier with a better, more flavorful centerpiece. I think we all would.

8. Pumpkin Pie (Previous: 6)

Come to think of it, I’m a little shocked to see it down this far. I don’t think it’s because pumpkin pie did anything wrong, just that I think there are some flashy new guys on the list that deserve their spots. I don’t know. Ask me again in another 10 years and I bet this will move up.

How do I even explain pumpkin pie’s place this far down? I guess for starters, it’s not the best dessert on its own. The texture is homogeneous. It’s smooth, but not like mousse smooth. They’re often either too sweet or not sweet enough. More simply, it just sucks the joy out of eating dessert for me. It’s just the same bite of food, over and over, until the experience is done. I’d be willing to let it slide if there were some textural variety or a contrast of temperatures or … anything. But there really isn’t.

Pumpkin pie is fine. It’s predictable. There’s value in predictability. But would I be happier with an apple pie? Of course. I mean, even those pumpkin cookies with chocolate chips or a pumpkin-based Swiss roll are better options.

9. Football (Previous: 4)

Last time I did this, I argued as follows:

Football provides an amazing backdrop for the entire day, with stem-to-stern action and some pretty compelling matchups — at the very least, more compelling than watching your aunt finish her second bottle of wine and both of your uncles fall asleep. I’d argue that the recent introduction of Thursday Night Football makes Thanksgiving football feel a little less special, but that’s just splitting hairs, really.

Now, I will argue that football, even at its worst, remains a better option than watching your family get drunk and/or pass out. As an introvert, I also appreciate any socially-accepted methods for ducking away for a while. It’s just that last bit that gets me. Thanksgiving football used to be its own thing, but now there’s NFL action on Thursday, Sunday, Monday (sometimes twice!) and even on Saturday as the season winds down. I like sports. I’ll very rarely turn down the opportunity to watch football if its on. But “Thanksgiving Day football” is now sort of just … football.

10. Cranberries (Previous: 7)

I don’t know, man. Cranberries — whether as a sauce or a spread or a gelatinous log or a dried addition to a salad — are great. The tartness they bring to the party is a massive, massive help when you’re dealing with a bunch of starchy, buttery stuff. The problem is simply that they aren’t good on their own. At all.

It becomes a simple plate real estate problem: You want stuffing and potatoes and maybe sweet potatoes, then turkey and/or ham, then some green beans or Brussels, of course you’ll want some gravy, and depending on your regional settings you may want some mac and cheese or cornbread or crab cakes or green salad or whatever else. Oh! And don’t forget to get a roll or croissant to serve as a little pusher for your fork. Where’s the cranberry sauce supposed to go? Some years I just make a little pile of it first so I can use it as a little palate cleanser, like the ginger they give you when you get sushi. Some years, though, I just kinda … ignore it. Sorry, cranberries. I want to like you more. But honestly, you’re not even at the top of the “Best Cranberries” rankings, so I can’t put you higher here.

No. 1 on that list is, once again: Cranberries, The.

Honorable Mentions: Green Bean Casserole (Previous: 9), Rolls (Previous: 10), Cornbread, Mac & Cheese, Roasted Vegetables [Other]

Personally, I’m pretty happy with how these turned out, but moreover I’m happy I successfully avoided work for another hour or so while I did this. And isn’t that the real reason for the season? Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!