Thanksgiving is next week, and that means that most of the country will be going into a food coma over a smorgasbord of once-a-year delights. This leaves me with a whole range of seasonal things to write about, but one of my absolute favorites that really only comes around at this time of year is cranberries.

I’m pretty sure that everybody knows from elementary school (or, at the very least, Ocean Spray commercials) that cranberries are grown in bogs. That is to say, they are cultivated on shrubby vines in wet, acidic soil and left to grow for the summer.

Sometime in September or October, the farmers flood the cranberry field with water, and the cranberries, which each have a bubble of air inside and are less dense than water, float to the surface, where they are scooped and processed. Most of them make it into processed foods like juice or sweetened dried cranberries.

Although canned jellied cranberry sauce is tasty and I do like it a lot, the real highlight of the Thanksgiving binge for me is my aunt’s fresh cranberry relish. For years, I ignored the turkey and mashed potatoes and candied yams and piled annually increasing amounts of this sweet-sour awesomeness onto my plate. I had some notion of what it contained, but frankly, I couldn’t care less because I was too busy stuffing my face.

Last year, though, for a Thanksgiving potluck at my co-op, I decided that I’d try my hand at replicating her cranberry relish and spread the joy to our 50-odd guests. Armed with about six pounds of fresh cranberries and some other fruit, I set out to see if I could do it.

The basic idea of cranberry relish is that you simply throw a bunch of cranberries with some liquid and a little bit of sugar in the food processor until the pieces are about the size of short-grain rice. Then you add bigger chunks of crunchy fruit and eat a bunch straight from the bowl in the name of tweaking the ratios.

It is super-easy, takes the barest amount of effort, and is dangerously delicious.

Cranberry Relish

Cranberries, fresh, about a pound.

1 crisp apple of your choice

1 pear of your choice, preferably not Bartlett

Sugar: white, brown or otherwise

Orange juice or some other juice of a citrus persuasion

Orange-and-lemon* to taste

Wash your cranberries in a big bowl or a clean sink full of water. Throw away any that don’t float. Put most — but not all — of them into a food processor (good) or blender (not very) with a splash or two of orange juice and a spoonful of orange-and-lemon. Process / blend until pieces are of a manageable and roughly uniform size. It shouldn’t take too long.

Add more O.J. if you feel you need it. Taste. Make a face because it’s too sour. Remember to add some sugar this time around. Repeat.

Once the cranberries are sufficiently pulverized, move them into a big bowl. Chop up your apple and pear into bite-size pieces and stir them in. Do a rough chop on the remaining cranberries and stir those in as well. Taste. Tweak. Repeat.

Intend to serve to family and friends, but end up eating 2/3 of it in one sitting. Feel guilty. Go back to store to buy more ingredients and make it all over again. Repeat until enough sauce remains in the bowl to prevent the raising of eyebrows.

*To make orange-and-lemon, take one orange and one lemon. Wash them thoroughly, remove any stickers, and slice into wedges. Remove any seeds. Place wedges with 3/4 cup sugar into a food processor and process until very smooth. Place in an airtight container, write the date on the lid, and store in freezer.

It keeps almost indefinitely, so use a spoonful in smoothies, sugar cookies or anything in which some bright citrus would be welcome.