IN THE BEGINNING, there might not have been jiggling jelly. The original Thanksgiving meal apparently did not have a vibrating column of congealed cranberries, fresh from the can, wiggling in the middle of the table. I find this a difficult notion to swallow.

Yet people who have researched this field have pointed out that cranberries were not put in cans until the early 1900s. This is several centuries after the big Massachusetts feed in 1621 when some Native Americans, who called themselves the Eastern people, and the Pilgrims sat down for what is regarded as the first Thanksgiving.

Cranberries were probably in the vicinity of the first Thanksgiving feed. They are a native berry of the American Northeast, and the natives put them to a variety of uses, including as a poultice slapped on arrow wounds and in a portable snack called pemmican.

This mixture of dried venison and melted animal fat and cranberries sounds like the precursor of gummy modern-day energy bars. I figure that means these bars were what Native American cooks told their teen-agers to eat when the kids announced, an hour after the conclusion of the first Thanksgiving, that they were hungry again.

It seems to me that when it comes to Thanksgiving cranberries, the really important history is personal. That is why those of us who grew up in the presence of cranberry jelly can not imagine a family Thanksgiving gathering without it. It has to be there, as a totem of feasts gone by. It also scares away bowls of creamed onions.

My family's Thanksgiving table offers a good example of how twisted and arbitrary cranberry history can become. When my three brothers and I gather at Thanksgiving, each of us insists that his favorite cranberry dish must be on the table. There is a chutney, a square-shaped gelatin salad, a sauce and the familiar cylindrical shape of the jelly.

As siblings do, we make fun of each others' selections. Mine has been derided as the "celebrity sauce," because the recipe comes from Madhur Jaffrey, noted Indian movie actress and a cookbook author. It calls for horseradish, ginger, garlic and a can of canned cranberry jelly.

This year I am going to try to sneak a new cranberry selection onto the family table. It too could be called a celebrity pick because it comes from Patrick O'Connell, the executive chef and co-owner of the Inn at Little Washington, a Virginia restaurant that has been rated by critics as among the best in the world.

When I spoke with O'Connell on the phone a few weeks ago, he gave me recipes for two holiday dishes. One recipe was for a roast turkey that had been soaked in a brine that included a boatload of herbs and needles from spruce trees. The other was a much simpler recipe for pickled cranberries.

O'Connell sang the praises of the whole, pickled cranberries, which he said could be tossed into a salad or on the side of a meat dish or in a martini.

I gave the recipe a try. The pickled cranberries were quite good. They were slightly sweet, yet retained some of that hallmark tart, berry flavor. I could see them appearing on Thanksgiving Day, at the bottom of the plate of roast turkey. I could see myself smearing several of them the following Friday on a sandwich stuffed with leftover turkey. But I could never see them replacing the jiggling mass of jelly.

Patrick O'Connell's Pickled Cranberries

These effortless little pickles make a perfect garnish for roast goose, pork, duck, ham or turkey and add a festive touch to holiday martinis.

Makes 2 1/2 -3 pints

1 bag (12 ounces) fresh cranberries, washed and picked over

1 1/4 cups sugar

1 1/4 cups apple-cider vinegar

1/2 cup apple cider

1/2 cup water

5 to 6 whole cloves

1/4 teaspoon whole allspice

1/4 teaspoon black peppercorns

1 whole cinnamon stick

1 teaspoon peeled and roughly chopped fresh gingerroot

Combine all of the ingredients in a 4-quart saucepan and bring to a rolling boil. To avoid cracking skin of berries, stir carefully, if at all. Remove from heat and allow to cool. Pack cranberries into decorative glass jars or plastic containers. Cover with the liquid and seal. Pickled cranberries can be kept for several months in the refrigerator and improve with age.