Thanksgiving Essentials: Ginger Pear Cranberry Compote

I grew up in the Massachusetts Bay Area, surrounded by cranberry bogs. As a kid, we made banana bread, zucchini bread—all the quick breads—but my favorite was always cranberry bread, slathered with butter. To this day, my go-to drink is a Vodka Cranberry. Once, at a chic Brooklyn bar in the early 2000s—honestly just an emptied-out ground-floor apartment filled with stuffed upholstered cubes—I asked the bartender if she could make me a Cranberry Vodka. “No,” she said, with a dry New York smirk, “but I can make you a Vodka Cranberry.” That’s how deeply cranberries are wired into my brain.

Cranberries are one of only three fruits native to North America. Native Americans around Plymouth used them fresh, dried, and pounded into pemmican. Colonial women quickly adopted them for tarts and preserves, though sugar was precious—cranberries’ tartness made them a challenge. Harvested primarily in Massachusetts, Wisconsin, and New Jersey, their sharp bite comes from high levels of organic acids, which is why they’re almost never eaten raw. But cooked with sugar and aromatics, they transform into something vibrant and essential—especially at Thanksgiving.

This compote is my version of traditional cranberry sauce. Sweet, succulent pears balance the cranberries’ tartness, while fresh ginger adds warmth and zing. It’s simple to make, impossibly good, and a feast just isn’t complete without it.

While perfect on its own alongside turkey and all the trimmings, I love this most as an ice cream topping—particularly over Häagen-Dazs Vanilla Bean or Dulce de Leche. Pick your own favorite.

Enjoy!

  Photo | Brian Wick