Anatomy of a Feast

Friends, the end of November is upon us. As the month comes to an end, people across this great nation of ours come together to give thanks for doorbuster deals and liberal credit. Before we all have the annual pleasure of deepening our personal debt for stuff we don't need, there's that family obligation called "Thanksgiving". Everybody has their own traditions, from oyster stuffing to feats of strength. Some pretentious snots do thier best to replicate the original thanksgiving, or spend $300 on a heritage turkey. (That said, heritage turkeys are better tasting and generally better for the environment than Butterball. I'll give you like 60 bucks for one.) I try not to be held down by traditions, but I still make roughly the same stuff every year. For the purposes of deconstructing this meal, I'll order the items by their grandiosity or wow-factor.

Least wowful is the roasted root vegetable. I know mashed potatoes is a staple for this type of feast, but I am unwilling to make them in this setting. There is no way to make mashed potatoes that is both healthful and delicious. Cream and/or butter make it delicious. Removing those ingredients, replacing them with Good Morning American healthy alternatives such as chicken broth or applesauce makes them watery and icky. Pass. Instead, I take a colorful and nutritious array of vegetables and roast them simply. This year I used celery root, boniato (white yam), standard yam, and butternut squash. The assortment is based largely upon my whim, though I try to go for diversity of colors and flavors. Peel and large dice the vegetables. With the boniato, be careful; it is rich in polyphenol oxidase and thus turns brown very very quickly. It's usually pretty helpful to roast the vegetables separately as cooking times often vary. Or, if you're really wily, you can cut the slow-cooking veggies into smaller pieces than the quick-cookers. Toss lightly in olive oil and a little salt. Additional flavorings are usually superfluous. I like to throw in some thyme or shallot/leek. Please don't add black pepper. Roast on a sheet pan in a 350-ish oven until the veggies are soft and delicious.



You have to serve the cranberry sauce (not pictured) so that it still has the ridges from the can. Not. If you want something that tastes good, make it yourself. It couldn't be easier. Fill a saucepan with an appropriate amount of washed fresh cranberries. Add orange zest, raisins, orange supremes (skinless segments), orange juice, apple cider, honey, and brown sugar. I don't measure. Cranberries are super tart, so add enough sugar to balance that out. Though I'd like to also add ground cinnamon and fresh ginger, familial obligations prohibit it. Simmer gently
until the cranberries soften and some begin to pop. The acid from the OJ will activate the pectin causing the sauce to gel nicely (though not can-style). Allow to cool to room temperature and enjoy.

If you want a dissertation on stuffing a turkey, watch the West Wing episode, "Indians in the Lobby". I don't stuff for many reasons, thus my bread-based side-dish is called dressing. I'm not formally in charge of this dish but I do contribute to it. For the bread, any crusty french loaf or sourdough will do quite nicely. Just don't use that artifically-softened store-brand stuff. Or Wonder. Ick. Tear apart the bread into a big bowl. Soften with chicken stock. Add cornbread and mix up. Though we historically added brown rice, I prefer fun grains. This year I used a hard red wheat, red rice, and millet. Steam the grains a day in advance so they're not too hot to handle. Sauteed mixed vegetables like onion, celery, and mushrooms are added, as are corn flakes. Season with celery salt, cumin, and really any herbs and spices of your liking. Pour into a baking dish and bake until the outside is crisp and yummy.



An appetizer is helpful to mollify the anxious crowd before you're ready to serve turkey. A simple yet impressive spinach strudel does the trick. Saute frozen chopped spinach to remove moisture. Season to your liking; any number of styles works. I went for simple ricotta, egg, salt, and raisin. One could also do a middle eastern seasoning blend or something else that is delicous. Chill the mixture. Thaw store-bought puff pastry until soft enough to work with. Spread the middle half of the puff pastry with the filling. Fold the sides over the filling and try to seal gently. Now carefully flip the strudel so the seam side is down. With a knife or carving fork, poke holes in the top to allow steam to escape. Brush with egg wash. Bake on a pan lined with parchment paper at around 425 until the puff pastry crust is fully crisp. Allow to cool to room temperature before slicing and serving.



Nobody likes brussels sprouts blah blah blah. It's just cabbage, people. C'mon! Trim the sprouts to remove loose leaves and brown spots. Carve an X into the base to allow the inside to cook more quickly. In rapidly boiling, salted water, cook the sprouts until bright green and mostly softened. Dice lamb bacon (or any other bacon of your choosing) and brown in a large saute pan. If there is not enough rendered fat, you can add butter or olive oil. Place the well drained sprouts in the pan and cook until lightly browned and/or caramelized on the outside. Yum.



One cabbage just isn't enough. I like a nice Germanic braised red cabbage to make sure there's extra vegetable matter on the table. Thinly slice or shave red cabbage and red onion. Saute the red onion in a large pot until caramelized, then add the cabbage. Add red wine vinegar, salt, and red currant jelly/jam/preserves to the pot. Simmer slowly for several hours until the color is uniform and the cabbage is very tender. If you have cheesecloth, make a sachet with appropriate spices such as mustard seed, juniper berries, and caraway. I simmer the spices in vinegar and water, and add the strained liquid to the pot. You can also cook this with lamb bacon or a ham hock to add smokiness.

Every good feast needs some sort of bread. I've recently taken to making pretzels from scratch. Pretzel dough is essentially the same as any other dough. A dough lightly enriched with butter makes especially nice pretzels. Pretzels are typically boiled in lye solution prior to baking, giving the pretzel its distinct crust character. Lye can be dangerous and hard to find. Baking soda makes a decent alternative. Add baking soda to boiling water before adding the pretzel dough balls. Make them small as they expand quite a bit. They should boil for about a minute before being removed, drained carefully, and placed on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper. Brush with egg wash, sprinkle with coarse salt, and bake in a 400 oven until crisp, brown, and baked through. Enjoy.



And now, the main event. I don't feel bound by tradition to make turkey, but I think it's a good practical option for having a lot of people at a special event. For a dissertation on brining your turkey, watch the West Wing episode, "Indians in the Lobby". I brine because it helps retain moisture during cooking and flavor the turkey meat (not just the skin). The brine should include salt and sugar, but the spices are at your discretion. Mine included fennel seed, coriander, mustard, fenugreek, and black pepper, among other things. For a big turkey, brine for at least 24 hours in the refrigerator prior to cooking. Also, make sure to remove and reserve the neck and innards. Dry off the turkey and place in a roasting pan. I like to bend the wings back so they're under the back. This helps lift the turkey above the pan when the roasting rack is too small for the bird. A mixture of aromatics should be added to the pan including, but not limited to, carrot, celery, onion, fennel bulb, apple, thyme, and sage. Place the neck, gizzard, and heart of the bird in the pan. I also seasoned the skin with finely ground fennel and coriander seeds. Some apple cider in the bottom of the makes for a moist, flavorful bird and a rich gravy.



My bird was 23 pounds, 4 ounces, so it needed about five hours to cook. My preferred temperature is the slow-and-steady 325 degrees Fahrenheit. As you can see below, even a low temperature, given enough time, will effect a dark, crisp skin. A little butter (possibly herbed) under the skin can help flavor the breast meat if you're into that sort of thing. After about an hour of cooking, place a foil shield atop the breast so it cooks a little more slowly than the thighs. The legs need to reach about 180 to be nice and tender while 160 is sufficient for the breast. Baste the turkey occasionally, but basting is decidedly overrated. With about an hour of cooking remaining, remove the roasted neck and innards to a saucepot, adding much of the liquid from the bottom of the roasting pan. If there isn't enough liquid, you can supplement with home made or boxed stock or broth in both the pot and the roasting pan. Simmer the neck+ in the drippings for about an hour, skimming any scum from the top. Strain and bring back to a simmer. Thicken with corn starch slurry to your desired thickness. The surest way to tell turkey doneness is to wiggle the leg. A very wiggly leg indicates that the connective tissue has largely broken down and thus it is not only fully cooked but also moist and tender. Present the bird before carving. I like to remove the breast whole and then slice on a cutting board. Save the two-boned wing section and the leg for yourself; they are are by far the best parts. Also the bottom of the thigh which just spent five hours simmering in rich broth. Now that's a feast.



Happy Thanksgiving.
Prost.