I’ve been to a ton of concerts in my life, and in that time, I’ve seen a pretty wide range of opening acts.
Some of them have been wonderful surprises!
In 1999, I went to see Santana play at Columbus, Ohio’s now-razed-for-an-IKEA Polaris Amphitheater. I got what I came for—he played “Smooth”—but the most memorable part of the evening was before he even took the stage. A nine-piece band entered the venue through the crowd, singing and playing the whole way. They performed a great set, then exited back through the crowd and continued to jam on the concourse for another half-hour or so. I’ve been a fan of Ozomatli ever since.
(Here’s a video I found on YouTube of them doing something similar:)
I’ve seen opening acts overshadow the top-billed performers (Jimmy Eat World eclipsed Weezer easily, as did Muse for the Red Hot Chili Peppers), and been pleasantly surprised by up-and-comers that I’d never heard of before (Texas guitarist Parker Ryan, opening for Roger Clyne and the Peacemakers) or by old favorites I didn’t recognize on the marquee (I did not know that David Lowery & The Georgia Crackers was just the guy from Cracker until he started playing “Low”, a delightful surprise.)
I’ve also seen some absolute duds! (Maybe Blues Traveler is good in a small venue. I can’t say. I saw them open for the Rolling Stones at Ohio Stadium in 1997, and let’s just say the harmonica is not made for a college football-sized venue.)
The point is, an opening act can set the tone for the whole show.
Why am I bringing this up now?
Well, it’s simple. Thanksgiving is nearly upon us, and if you’re like me, you see it as more than just a meal. It’s a performance, a carefully-choreographed dance of pots and pans and bottles and cans and birds or hams. It’s an undertaking that begs for tightly-designed schedules and well-practiced plans of attack, schematics that should be already well underway six days out.
It’s a big show—and one that deserves a worthwhile opening act.
For many years, I failed to realize this. I’d spend the week before pulling together all of the recipes I planned to execute, work up a lengthy and detailed shopping list, go to the store on Saturday morning to get everything I needed… and then realize on Sunday afternoon that I hadn’t planned a single thing to eat for the days preceding the holiday.
Now, you probably already have your Thanksgiving Day plan. I’m not going to try to change that, other than to reiterate my annual suggestion that you make Hot Cranberry Sauce.
Instead, I want to talk about that run-up to the big day.
Friends, it’s Friday at The Action Cookbook Newsletter.
Today, I’ve got recipes for all that grazing that happens before the turkey hits the table, a dark and powerful cocktail, some terrific new music, a good old book, and more!
Six days to Thanksgiving. We’ve got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it’s dark and we’re wearing sunglasses.
Hit it.
What kind of openers are we talking about, though?
A traditional Thanksgiving table calls for some familiar faces—turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, cranberry sauce, things of that nature.
There’s plenty of room for other things to come into play this week, though.
Maybe you’ve got guests arriving a day or two early, and you need something easy and different to serve the night before. Maybe you’re headed somewhere else for Thanksgiving and you know all standard bases will all be covered, but you also know that dinner will come late and people will get peckish beforehand. Heck, maybe you just need something for beyond the holiday, once the turkey and gravy’s all gone.
Whatever your use-case, I’ve got a few suggestions from the deep ACBN Recipe Archive.
There’s my hugely-popular Spinach-Artichoke Rolls, an ugly-delicious baked feta dip, some trust-me-they’re-good Cincinnati-Spiced Cashews, or the bake-in-advance and reheat Berbere-Spiced Runzas, a modernized Midwestern marvel:
I’m not just playing re-runs here today, though—I’ve got something new for you, too.
There’s few things I love to see more at a family gathering than a simmering crock pot full of cocktail meatballs. The most familiar version of this classic party favorite employs a sauce made from grape jelly and Heinz’s chili sauce, and I’m an unabashed fan of that.
Still, I couldn’t help but zhuzh that idea up a little—making scratch meatballs with a smoky-sweet-spicy sauce that’s just a bit fancier.
Action’s Cocktail Meatballs
(Makes two dozen decent-sized meatballs)