Turkey Day

Happy Holidays, guys! I love Thanksgiving, always have. Something about extended family members coming together over a distance to feast on an abundant fall harvest spread has captivated me since childhood. I'm admittedly sentimental about traditional celebration, to be totally honest with you.

Holidays surface so many memories, many of them food related, all of them meaningful in some aspect to me, however slight. There is a pin-trigger on end-of-the-year nostalgia for me. The sound of the lions or the cowboys playing on a front room television overlapping with the silky narration of 'a christmas story', marathoned every year on some cable channel, for instance, or the smell of each slow-baked dish as it comes out of the oven, resting on a long clothed table in my Grandma's back room.

I remember watching my mom and Aunt Barb pulling each section of that serving table apart, revealing two insertable panels underneath the surface, effectively doubling the surface (and seating) area once set into place. I can't see a handheld electric meat slicer without thinking of my Uncle Bob wielding it at my Grandma's kitchen table, carving thin slices of turkey and ham with butcheresque precision. The slices always reminded me of the fanned pages of  a meat book. Disturbing, right? I was a weird kid.

These recollections inspire me to recreate moments passed in my present life; as a result, I cook for the holidays. And I cherish this responsibility, readily embracing the role of sole purveyor of celebratory fare for my family.

Not only am I trusted to capably and effectively obtain, organize and execute a formidable dinner (not an easy feat, as many familiar with the seeping dread triggered by "holiday" and "kitchen" within the same sentence can readily attest), I have the opportunity every year share my passion with my loved ones, to execute these timeless standards in an enthusiastic way bordering upon the artistic.

As an added and essential bonus, I give myself the chance to reflect upon my culinary planning and preparation process later in writing, as I'm doing now, typing it all up the day after, dishes languishing in the sink, intentionally ignored for the time being. I'll tackle them tonight, though. I've developed something of a kitchen tic as I age, and cleanliness becomes all the more an important and essential standard to adhere to. Plus I've been taking more food photos, and filthy surfaces are less than photogenic (or hygienic, really). Such a dirty girl in the kitchen!

Now that I'm older and have a family of my own, I keep up the tradition, though on a smaller-scale. Instead of embarking on some three-hour car ride down to the more rural and less populated parts of Missouri, my kitchen has become the epicenter of November celebration.

My father sits in his living room chair with my fella and his father, each oscillating between cursing and cheering and casually comparing stats at a staggering rate as they focus on whatever game happens to be airing on his flatscreen.

My father has a couple of my sisters over, as well, and they pace about his house across the street from mine, sending my daughter over here and there with inquiries of Turkey ETA. Seven hours, I always say with a sarcastic smirk, to watch my kid's thick brown eyebrows furrow in disbelief. I see why people fuck with me; her face is too cute all scrunched up like that.

I woke up at ten or so in the morning yesterday, and sent Fish across the street for my coffee as I drug myself out of bed. She comes back empty-handed: no coffee made, Mama. No, my waking mind decides, that won't do. I had been meaning to acquire my own coffee pot for a while now, and having to wait on my dad's frozen porch each morning as he unlocked his door so I could pour myself some strong folgers in my to-go cup for my commute, scrunching my nose up as I sipped the thick black stuff, strong and soured with age, pressured me to make the purchase. No coffee at all, though, that sealed the deal for me.

Gabe volunteered to pick one up for me, he had to pick up his father, anyway. Both Detroit natives, they were more than excited for the 11:30 kickoff, and within what seemed like minutes, he was back with a $20 Black and Decker model (that you can program to automatically brew! ...somehow!), filters and a bag of Dunkin Donuts. Goodbye, Folgers Classic! Hellooooo morning java experimentation.

I put a pot on and change out of my silky pajama pants, bind and cover my hair with a bandanna, brush my teeth and wash my face, and get a huge bottle of water. I pour myself a cup of coffee, Gabe hands me a PBR can, I readily accept and open up my recipe binder -- a pink and purple tie dye three-ring binder with recipes sandwiched between sheet protectors -- to the thanksgiving section.

I took a couple days to plan my menu. First, I decided what to serve, then I looked up recipes for them. I don't just click the first one I see, I like to browse around until I can really grip the template of the recipe. What is the base recipe? What is commonly substituted? What would I/my guests prefer? Even mashed potatoes had me looking at three different recipes before deciding on an adapted Alton Brown instruction with no butter. Or pepper. Changed that shit quick. Potatoes and black pepper belong together when mashed. Likely the best squished spuds I've ever made, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

Once the menu is planned and the recipes written down somewhat sequentially, I write up my shopping list. This one was huge, and nearly $150 for everything. My dad threw me $50 for it, though, Gabe's dad had $30, so it all evened out, considering I keep all the leftovers. My favorite part. I'm racing here, I need to slow down and focus on each step. Leftovers get me so goddamn EXCITED though!

Grocery list planning is a composite effort, one I do not take lightly. Proper list planning requires a chef to analyze each recipe's ingredients, substituting when necessary, accounting for how each item is sold (cost, size, brand quality, availability, etc). Failing to account for each item on your menu can lead to the nightmarish situation of being out of X the day of Y, so you can't make Z and fucked it all up. Panic mode ensues, and that's not a good look (not to mention cliche as hell. I mean, really. It's fucking flour. Get it together.).

If you're rhythmically precise, you can read your recipes and write each ingredient down, with parantheses around items you may have in your cabinets or fridge already. You will want to physically check before turning over your ignition, though. I do not have Fish do this because sometimes she is lazy and tells me we have something, then we get back from shopping and do NOT have it, to which she says, "weeeeell, I thought we had it..." Same thing with being out of something. "Ohhh, I didn't seeeee it there!" Move shit around, goddamnit! >sigh< She tries her hardest, that's all I care about, effort over ability and all that.

Knowing your ingredients is essential to planning, as well. How many cups of flour total, for all recipes? How much butter? Sticks or cups or tablespoons or what? How many eggs? Keep a tally near the ingredient as you read. I needed 4 cups of half and half, 8oz each, so a 15oz carton will do two. There's a little wiggle room. Unless you're baking. That shit's like chemistry, do not alter those without extreme confidence in your substitution expertise (I am still developing mine). 12 vs 18 eggs, always get more, as eggs are easy to fuck up. Butter is 8 tablespoons = 1/2 cup = 1/4 pound = 1 stick. There are four sticks in a one-pound box of butter. I get unsalted, you do you, though, and get what you like. I used every bit of the two pounds of butter I bought. My god.

Once everything is counted, compared, and cabinet-checked, get to the store and buy as much of it as you can. Fish, my shopping buddy, helps me out with this. I let her push the cart, tossing items at the basket as she shrieks with happiness. She finds empty aisles and races down them, grinning maniacally. I make her stop if I see someone else, they don't need to deal with that shit and all that. Still, she is good to me, and I give her a little little-kid leeway when I can. We pass a kid half her age throwing a screaming fit stemming from generic brand substitution, or an inconsolable infant or loudly indignant toddler in the cereal aisle. I lean over into Fish's ear after we pass and thank her for being on her best behavior. She knows impulse control is both incredibly difficult and immensely effective. So considerate!

We get it all purchased and back to the car, my list more blue scratches than legible items now, and head on home. Her father and her bring in the bags, I get them in the fridge and displayed on my kitchen table, grouped into recipes as much as possible. This is every Saturday for me, only less elaborate and for seven meals versus one. Even this meal will be eaten over multiple upcoming evenings. I can eat for a week or more on these leftovers. Don't take my word for it, though! I'll show you.

So, it's nearly noon on Thanksgiving. I load the live stream of MST3K Turkey Day on my laptop, setting it on my microwave for viewing as I work, crack open another beer, warm up my coffee, and get to work.

First up, the turkey.I bought a 20 pounder last week, so it had time to thaw out in the fridge. I did not brine it, though I am interested in trying this for Christmas dinner. I wanna do duck sometime, too, but that's not the point. I use Coolio's Game Day Turkey Marinade. Coolio cooks? Why, yes he does! And this marinade is incredible. I use the big Pulp Fiction-ey injector for it, too.

I smoke my turkey under a trashcan. Odd as hell, right? I saw this on the news the first year I moved to STL and my dad tried it. It's become tradition, with Fish requesting it every year as "tradition turkey, TRASH CAN TURKEY MOM *giggles ferociously*" It's a charcoal smoked turkey, very easy to do. I think our turkey was too big? Or something went fucky, because we ended up having to finish it in the oven. No worries, turned out beautifully, and will be even better in pot pies and croquettes but we're not there yet omg hang on. 

Next was the stuffing. I did not use a recipe for this, nor did I use a box of Stove Top, and fuck you for even insinuating I ever would! I used a loaf of French bread leftover from my potato leek soup (blog post upcoming), as well as some frozen bread heels I throw in my freezer for breadcrumbs. I cubed them up and baked them until they were crispy.

As they baked, I cooked some onion, celery and green apples in some turkey sausage before adding some parsley, sage and thyme. I threw the bread in, tossed it all up until each piece was nice and coated, then added some homemade vegetable broth to it. I put this into a pan and baked it for a half hour. It was not a fan favorite, but I've got tasty leftover experimentation plans for it, just you wait. Maybe waffles, or a savory bread pudding...

Next, I made green bean casserole. From scratch! I know! I used Alton Brown's recipe, and be warned, it is somewhat elaborate. I cut a couple onions and coated them in flour and breadcrumbs and a little salt and throw them on a pan in the oven, tossing a couple times before pulling them out all crispy and perfect.

Fish loves green beans but hates fresh ones, simply for the fact that it's her job, as it is EVERY child's job, to trim the ends. I set her up in front of the TV for this task, and she executes it quicker than she anticipated, presenting the bowl of trimmed beans to me, beaming with pride as she does. She also gives me the trimmings instead of throwing them away. "For broth!" she exclaims. She knows what the deal is!

I boil the beans and food process a package of mushrooms, then cook them in broth and cream with some roasted garlic before tossing the beans in with them. I add the onions and bake them brown.

Gabe requested mac and cheese , another AB classic I adore. Boil the noodles, make a bechamel with mustard powder, paprika, onions and sriracha, combine them in a casserole and coat with buttery panko before baking for a bit. Lots of compliments from this one. I used sharp cheddar, you can use anything you like.

My personal favorite is the sweet potato casserole. So bright and fragrant and dessert-like! It's a cinch, too: roast the potatoes in oil until soft, then slice them long-wise and scoop out their insides. The skin comes right off, it's incredible. Mash up the flesh before adding sugar and egg, then transfer to a casserole. Top with a quick streusel (flour, butter, sugar, vanilla) and bake until brownish. Absolutely to die for. Use marshmallows if so inclined, I never do. I saw a photo from last year's Turkey Day where I put shredded coconut on mine. Don't know what the hell I was thinking with that one.

Oh man. Seriously, oh man. These mashed potatoes. They have potato boil water in them, salt and pepper, parmesan and half-and-half. Dead, man. I added roasted garlic to it to really make it pop, and boy, did it ever. These were superb, likely the best batch I've ever been behind, without even a smear of butter. Will be making them this way again, no question.

The gravy  was nothing special, just onion, carrot, celery and garlic simmered with the turkey neck and some sprigs of thyme in some broth I had boiling on the stove as I cooked the aforementioned items. Really drove it home when Gabe brought the bird in for additional oven roasting and poured some drippings into the pot. Good lord. Pureed the broth and strained it, then thickened it with a quick roux and served it in a large mason jar. I have a lot left, which is great, I'm gonna add it to my pot pies this weekend, but I'm getting ahead of myself here, as always.

The cranberry relish I made was also a freestyle dish, a bag of fresh berries simmered in a can of crushed pineapple with lime juice and a little brown sugar and cinnamon. I whirred it all in my food processor for use in leftovers and perhaps ambrosia salad, a sort of fruity mousse that's easy to throw together on a whim. Throw some grapes or something in there. Awesome. Nobody but me eats this, it is my selfish dish that I absolutely adore and refuse to omit from my prep process. Takes two seconds on a back burner!

We arrive, at last, to dessert. Two pies scream Thanksgiving to me, pumpkin and pecan. I outright refuse to buy pie crust, it is easier, cheaper and tastier to make at home. Both pies turned out amazing. The pumpkin was made with cream cheese, very silky and springy once chilled. The pecan was baked in a cast iron (ran out of pie pans) and was the more expensive item served, as pecans are damn expensive, always have been. My god, that pie, though. Will make it again come Christmas, I think. Maybe as bars? A full slice is almost too much.

The finished plate looked like this:




Regarding leftovers, I am thinking personal pot pies for the dads, croquettes for Fish and I with oozing cranberry or gravy centers. Both freeze crazy well. I also may consider these jarred leftovers, purely to recreate the layered image. I am so taken with it, visually, but conceptually, this falls flat, as not many eaters mush all the food on their plate together into one amorphous bolus before consuming. Some experience unease at the mere mention of different items coming into physical contact. Meh. I may do it for the photo. I wanna save a plate for a friend of mine. HE'd eat a mason jar full of em, I bet. Then again, you never know!

Look forward to a separate post for leftovers coming up sometime this weekend, when I have a moment to execute them. I'm thinking Saturday. Tonight, I'm going home and doing absolutely nothing. Maybe some reading or non-Turkey Day blogging. I'm trying to get these idea drafts typed up and posted for you. I can do it, honest! You'll see! Just like I did today!