This disconnect between Thanksgiving as imagined in glossy spreads and the Thanksgiving most of us experience is perhaps why I find myself so utterly charmed by “Bob’s Burgers’” semi-annual Thanksgiving specials. For 15 seasons, the Belcher family has regularly turned what could easily become a tired sitcom trope into a reliable highlight of the beloved series.
Despite being a family whose lives often center around food by virtue of running a restaurant, they tackle the holiday not with the polished reverence of a cooking magazine, but with the messy, absurd energy of a family who somewhere along the way realized that perfection is not only unattainable, but also entirely beside the point.
Take, for instance, the episode “Turkey in a Can.” This is where it’s firmly established that Bob (H. Jon Benjamin) views Thanksgiving as a little more sacred than the rest of his family does — which makes sense. It’s the one day of the year where he can truly shine, both as a professional cook and as the family patriarch. It’s also a day tied to individual rituals with each of the kids: He breaks the wishbone with Tina (Dan Mintz); He practices football with Gene (Eugene Merman); He plays “turkey ‘CSI: Miami’” with Louise (Kristin Schall).
That’s why the stakes feel so inflated when the central mystery revolves around how his meticulously brined turkey, a culinary achievement he treats with the solemnity of a religious artifact, repeatedly ends up neck-down in the toilet.
This is not your typical Thanksgiving fare, even by sitcom standards, but it’s quintessential “Bob’s Burgers”: ridiculous, deeply specific, yet somehow more honest about the way the holiday often goes, when even our best efforts go awry thanks to a mix of bad luck, family quirks and the universe’s general refusal to cooperate.
That “us against the universe” streak in “Bob’s Burgers” helps set the stage for what series creator Loren Bouchard characterizes as its distinct “foxhole humor.”
“The kind of humor that I imagine doctors in emergency rooms have,” Bouchard told me in a 2020 conversation ahead of the series’ 200th episode. “"If Bob and Linda express exasperation, it's only funny because you never question their commitment to each other or to the family. And by expressing it now and then, it's like a little wink, as if to say, 'We're in this together — it's good, but it's hard, right?'"
But, as Bouchard said at the time, the Belcher family remains hopeful even when all odds are against them, which, if not written well, "could feel trite and small when the whole world is going through tough times."
"We have to present their optimism as a choice that's hard fought and well-earned and would hopefully make sense both in their narrative and in ours," Bouchard said. This direction is really embodied in “Dawn of the Peck,” where the Belchers’ Thanksgiving involves wild, vengeful turkeys (as in, actual live turkeys) chasing the family through the streets, trapping some of them on an out-of-control carnival ride.
As such, there’s a certain catharsis in watching the Belchers fumble through their Thanksgiving misadventures, especially for someone like me, whose professional lens so often hinges on making the holiday seem better. Instead of trying to fix Thanksgiving, “Bob’s Burgers” leans into its inherent imperfections. It doesn’t promise that everything will turn out fine in the end, but it does suggest that the bumps in the road are where the real memories are made.
The Belchers don’t need a Pinterest-perfect tablescape to celebrate. They don’t even need a functioning oven, as evidenced in "Now We're Not Cooking with Gas,” where the family ends up attempting to cook their turkey over open flames in the alleyway behind the restaurant. What they need — and what Thanksgiving ultimately boils down to — is each other, however messy and chaotic that togetherness may be.
So every November, as I contemplate what my Turkey Day will look like, I make time to rewatch the Belchers’ Thanksgiving episodes. They’re a reminder that holidays don't have to be perfect to be meaningful, and that sometimes, it’s the turkeys in the toilet — or the ones chasing you through the streets — that make it unforgettable.
