Every November, it’s the same thing: the endless stream of articles claiming to have discovered the secret to cooking a turkey.

The key is to brine it. No, the key is to position the bird breast side down. No, it’s all about measuring the temperature in the breast instead of the thigh. No, forget all that — just deep-fry it.

All that fuss brings very little reward, however, because — let’s be honest — turkey tastes pretty bland. Ask yourself this: How much turkey would you really want to eat if you couldn’t put gravy on it?

So here’s a thought: Skip the turkey. After all, today’s broad-breasted supermarket birds are nothing like the wild turkeys the Pilgrims ate, so the modern turkey’s historical connection to Thanksgiving is tenuous at best. You can order a wild turkey, but you’ll probably regret it, since it’s likely to be lean and tough. Or you can order a heritage turkey — sort of halfway between wild and Butterball — but they can cost more than $100 for just an 8-pound bird.

As long as you don’t have too many guests, there are better options out there — options that honor the spirit of serving a festive holiday bird but with fewer hassles and more flavor than turkey.

The first of these is a capon, which is a rooster that’s been castrated at a young age. The process results in a docile bird that puts on much more weight than a normal chicken — they can weigh up to 12 pounds — with a very high proportion of white meat to dark.

Frank Ottomanelli, a co-owner of the venerable butcher shop O. Ottomanelli’s & Sons (285 Bleecker St.,212-675-4217),is one of the capon’s biggest fans.

“It’s like the prime rib of fowl, the king of all fowl,” he said one recent afternoon in his shop. “It’s so tender, if you didn’t have teeth, you could still eat it. That’s because it doesn’t run around the yard, it doesn’t chase anything. It just sits there and eats.”

Mr. Ottomanelli said that while turkey is still by far his biggest seller at Thanksgiving, he has some customers who ask for capon. So does Ariane Daguin, the French-born owner of D’Artagnan, a New Jersey company specializing in fowl and game meats.

“The capon is very moist, like a huge baby chicken, with very white meat,” she explained in a thick French accent. “Like any chicken, it likes assertive sauces, because it’s so delicate. I like to peel away the skin from the flesh and put some truffle butter in there, so it’s very flavorful.”

That’s all fine if you like white meat. But what if you’re one of those discerning folks who realize that dark meat is more flavorful? Then you should consider a goose, which is all dark meat. Although it’s more traditionally thought of as a Christmastime meal (as the nursery rhyme goes, “Christmas is coming, the goose is getting fat…”),it’s just as suitable for Thanksgiving.

Unlike turkeys or capons, geese are migratory birds, so they have a thick skin with a fair amount of underlying fat. It’s therefore necessary to prick or score the goose’s skin before you roast it, so some of the fat can render out. This creates a selfbasting effect that produces a gorgeously crisp, bronzed skin. And the robustly flavored meat underneath will never be mistaken for a mere gravy delivery device. Think of it this way: Goose is to turkey as lamb is to beef.

And don’t discard that goose fat: It’s culinary gold in the hands of a smart cook. “You can save it for a whole year, and oh, it’s incredible!” Mr. Ottomanelli said, perhaps rethinking his devotion to capon. “It’s good for frying, sautéing. You can even bake with it. Just keep it in the fridge and spoon off a little bit when you need it.”

In fact, you can spoon off some of the goose fat from the roasting pan while the bird is still cooking and use it to cook a side dish (see accompanying recipe).

A goose, like a capon, tops out at about 12 or 13 pounds. If your holiday gathering is smaller, there are other options out there — duck, pheasant, guinea fowl, squab. But Mr. Ottomanelli and Ms. Daguin both said the next Thanksgiving trend may be from the non-feathered world: venison.

“That’s where we’ve seen the biggest growth,” Ms. Daguin said. “The Indians taught the Pilgrims to hunt for two things: turkey and deer. So some people see venison as being traditional.”

Just remember, if you go with venison, nobody will get to fight over the drumstick.

ROAST GOOSE WITH APPLES

This preparation makes use of some of the goose’s rendered fat to create a wonderful side dish. If you don’t use it for Thanksgiving, consider trying it next month: It’s a traditional Hanukkah dish in Paris.

1 goose, 10 to 13 pounds, giblets and neck discarded
3 cloves garlic, thinly sliced
4 Gala and 4 Granny Smith apples, peeled and cut into 6 to 8 wedges each 1/4 cup fresh lemon juice
6 tablespoons sugar
1/4 cup Calvados (French apple brandy)
1 1/2 teaspoons ground cinnamon

1. Position rack in bottom third of oven and preheat to 450 degrees. Rinse goose inside and out and pat dry with paper towels. Use your fingers to loosen the goose’s skin from the breast meat and insert the garlic slices under the skin. Use a knife to score the goose’s skin, taking care not to cut the underlying meat, and then sprinkle the goose’s skin and interior cavity with salt and pepper. Place the prepared goose on a V-shaped rack, breast side down, in a large roasting pan. Place in oven and immediately turn heat down to 350 degrees.

2. Roast goose 2 hours 30 minutes, basting occasionally with drippings and reserving rendered fat. Turn goose over. Continue roasting until skin is brown and thermometer inserted into thickest part of thigh registers 175°F, basting occasionally with drippings, about 45 minutes longer. Remove from oven and let stand, loosely tented with foil, for 10 minutes before carving.

3. While the goose is cooking, toss the apples and lemon juice in large bowl. Pour 6 tablespoons of the reserved goose fat into a 10-inch-by-15-inch glass baking dish. Use a slotted spoon to transfer the apples to the baking dish and then toss the apples in the goose fat to coat. Add the sugar, Calvados, and cinnamon and toss again. Bake the apples alongside the goose until very tender and golden, about 1 hour.

Serves eight.