NEW YORK CITY (By Marian Burros, NYTimes) November 16, 2005 — There will be 11 of us at the Thanksgiving table this year, and if the table were larger there would be more. For me Thanksgiving isn't Thanksgiving unless there are a lot of people at my table.

I know that cooking a Thanksgiving feast takes a lot of time and effort, and I don't like cramming the entire process into a couple of days. I hate spending Thanksgiving either locked away in the kitchen or faced with a lot of kibitzers (I am incapable of cooking and chatting at the same time).

So I start preparing the week before, and I do as much as possible ahead of time. I order my turkey way in advance, and I keep lists: shopping lists; cleaning lists; a plate, silverware and glassware list; and the menu.

I don't want a repeat of the infamous Thanksgiving dinner when I, then an enthusiastic novice cook, decided on a chestnut stuffing, and on preparing the chestnuts from scratch. We ate at 10 that night.

Scratch the chestnuts.

Gone, too, are the carrot soufflés and all the other last-minute dishes. Getting the turkey right is challenging enough (though Kim Severson's streamlined turkey recipe on Page 10 removes a lot of the angst).

Very little is left for those final frantic minutes before everyone sits. Over the years I have figured out the dishes that can be prepared ahead so that by the time dinner is served in the late afternoon I'm not ready for bed.

The meal has become infinitely simpler, virtually stress-free.

We have given up on hors d'oeuvres before dinner; there is too much other stuff to eat. This year I will put out bite-size pieces of fennel with peppery olive oil and sea salt, for those who didn't have a substantial brunch. It is a modern-day version of the once ubiquitous relish tray (a k a celery sticks and California canned black olives).

We don't even have a first course, but if you insist on one, see Florence Fabricant's recipe for a celery root soup with maple syrup in the Pairing column, on Page 6.

Long ago at my house the giblet gravy went the way of marshmallows on top of sweet potatoes. Pan juices are delicious served with the turkey, and if you want to give them a more complex flavor, whisk in a little red wine, and reduce.

As time has passed, the amount of sugar has been reduced in recipes like the spiced sweet potatoes and the cranberry relish. Spices and maple syrup have replaced the marshmallows.

New this year are roasted green beans. I have become an enormous fan and promoter of roasted vegetables: the roasting brings out all their sweetness, and it is a no-stress dish.

On the other hand, the cranberry relish has gone retro. For years I served a raw version, but I'm back to a cooked relish with less sugar, this time embellished with a few spoonfuls of orange liqueur.

After living for so long below the Mason-Dixon line, I have fallen for jalapeño corn bread stuffing, or dressing, as they call it in the South.

For the last two years it has been cooked outside my turkey, and I have not been happy with the results. So I tried something new. I put the dressing in a pan and covered it with foil. Then I put that pan in a larger pan, filling it with water to come halfway up the side of the stuffing pan. In other words, I cooked it the way I would a custard. The texture is just what you would get from cooking it inside the turkey. To give it some of that turkey flavor, stir in some pan juices before serving.

In terms of dessert, pumpkin no longer comes in an old-fashioned custard pie. We've worked our way through chiffon pumpkin pie in a gingersnap crust, pumpkin cheesecake and pumpkin mousses, and now I am eager to try Julia Moskin's pumpkin pots de crème (recipe on Page 11).

The menu is continually being tweaked, but it can be tweaked only so far, as I learned when my children were young but already into the holiday's traditions. Tired of hearing "Turkey again" - I couldn't blame them because it was always dry and tasteless - I decided to surprise them one year.

The shocked looks and the howls of anguish upon the arrival of a beef brisket cured them of complaining about turkey. There's a limit to how much you can fool with tradition.

So while some might prefer to eat the holiday meal at a restaurant - my family did it once, and I found myself fixated on those dining alone - it is immensely satisfying to cook your heart out once a year and pretend that your guests are coming over the river and through the woods, even if an interstate or a subway is involved.