For folks who seldom undertake cooking a feast, Thanksgiving can be a daunting holiday. There are hundreds of ways to cook a turkey and every expert swears their method is the best. There are lots of traditional or non-traditional recipes to learn. There is timing to consider ("Will the green beans still be hot after we carve the turkey??!") There is often a forgotten ingredient ("Will somebody please run out to the convenience store...NOW?!")
I cook every day for a living. I love feasts. I fall into a state of rapture when I taste something really special. But it behooves me to tell you to relax... because most of the food details just don't matter.
Yes, I think my mother must sprinkle fairy dust on her green bean casserole, it's so good. Yes, my friend Susie has elevated stuffing to a high art. Yes, my sister's desserts are worth every calorie. Yes, I'll probably make room for seconds on mashed potatoes and gravy. But really, I only know those things in the most obtuse way. What I really remember about my many Thanksgivings are not the food items on the table, but rather the company around me:
-I remember the last year we all had Thanksgiving at my grandparent's house, and how we kids all sang songs from the radio while we washed dishes.
-I remember the year we invited an eccentric old widow to our table and how she was like a machine gun of hilarity with her outlandish quips.
-I remember the year that my REAL "thanksgiving" was for a mechanically-inclined spouse. Mi esposo was a hero, fixing the garbage disposal after I jammed it up with parsnip and carrot peelings, mere moments before the guests arrived.
-I remember the year all of my friends and I reclined in a cold, under-heated apartment in our thick wool sweaters and were warmed by the crazy stories of our various misadventures.
-I remember dressing up pretty to make the meal at my grandmother's nursing home feel special for her.
-I remember, while traveling, people of another culture went to great effort to create a special night for the Americans in their midst who were missing a special holiday back home.
I don't remember which year the turkey was the best. I don't remember which year(s) I overate. I don't remember which year someone sprang for an amazing wine. I don't remember if the potatoes were too brown, or if the white meat was too dry, or if the gravy was lumpy. Really, I have no recollection of the food details...and I am a chef who generally cares deeply about the food details!!
I do care about food, but counter-intuitively, not as much on Thanksgiving. On Thanksgiving it's about the people and the fact that we are lucky enough to be here together. So please don't sweat the dinner. Just enjoy your guests.
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
Sunday, November 18, 2012
A Basic (and Basically Delicious) Thanksgiving Turkey Recipe
Although I worked in the kitchen at a catering company, I was a young and inexperienced cook the first time I ever roasted a turkey. It was not even Thanksgiving, but I felt I really needed to learn how to cook a whole bird. I was a vegetarian at that time, so I never had the occasion to cook meat or poultry at home. I was a whiz with sauteed chicken breasts, since it appeared so often on our work menus, but every other type of meat or poultry was foreign and intimidating to me. So I bought a small bird, turned the oven on, and went for it. I fed my roasted turkey to a friend and when he approved, I told myself I now knew how to make a Thanksgiving turkey.
That is, until the rest of the world tried to knock me off-balance. Simply turning on the oven and sticking a turkey in there was no longer good enough. You had to have an oven bag. Or you had to truss the bird. Or you had to buy a giant deep fryer. Or you had to soak it in brine for 3 days. Or you had to drape the turkey in a shroud of cheesecloth. Or you had to monkey with the temperature on the oven every fifteen minutes.
I bought into the mindset that someone else's methods MUST be superior to my own, so I tried a lot of them. I've trussed, I've stuffed, and I've spatchcocked (partially de-boned the turkey before cooking). I've used high heat and I've used low heat. I've used fresh, organic birds and I've used mass-marketed frozen brands.
Most of those methods work just fine and produce a good turkey dinner, but sometimes these new ways of doing things are a real pain in the neck. Because really, all that most people want is just a traditional turkey that is moist on the inside with a crispy skin on the outside.
So, I'll give you a recipe I've used and return to often... when I'm not experimenting with some dippy new method. In this recipe, you are asked to baste the turkey every half hour, which does take some attention, but presumably you are going to be in or near to the kitchen anyway. This extra step of basting is worth it in terms of moistness, flavor, and nicely-textured skin. I'll make some notes that I think are helpful before I get into the heart of the matter.
BASIC THANKSGIVING TURKEY
Notes:
-I like a 10-14 pound turkey of the frozen variety. Why frozen? Why not fresh, local, and organic? Because I know that even if an indecisive shopper before me traipsed around the store with the bird in her cart for 45 minutes before deciding she wants to serve ham this year and put it back in the meat department, it will still be safe and won't make anyone ill. That warm 45-minute cart ride is more dangerous for a fresh bird...that kind of fresh and organic can give you dysentery. Plus, I have had fresh birds that were downright gamey and unpleasant. Make sure you thaw your bird for 3-4 days in the refrigerator. A partially frozen bird will take forever to cook and will brown unevenly.
-Don't put your bread-based stuffing your into your raw bird and leave it while it cooks. That's another food safety issue. If you must stuff, do it in the last half hour of cooking. Stuffing served on the side is just as delicious and a whole lot less risky.
-Use a sturdy roasting pan with 3-4" high sides. You can use higher sides, but I like the hot air in the oven to circulate around my turkey. You can use lower sides, but you'll have to cut down the amount of stock and you may have a slightly drier bird. I like a pan with a rack, to make it easy to hoist it onto a carving platter, but that's totally optional. Avoid those aluminum roasting pans. They are so light and bendable, the weight of your turkey and fixings may just torque out of your oven mitts and onto the kitchen floor (your dog will love you, though).
-You can baste with an old-fashioned bulb baster (those gigantic eyedropper thingies), a big barbeque brush, or a giant spoon or small ladle. Any one of those tools will get the job done nicely.
-I don't recommend starting your bird at an ultra-high temperature as many pros do...I think it makes the skin do wonky and uneven things. Steady, medium heat gets the job done nicely.
-If your bird did not come with a pop-up thermometer, a meat thermometer is a very smart investment. You want your poultry at 165-170 degrees. Pink white meat is a real bummer.
-1 turkey 10-14 pounds, fully thawed
-1/2 an apple, seeds removed
-1/2 an onion
-1 stick of butter, cut in half and well-softened
-salt and pepper
-4-6 cups of turkey stock (good chicken broth is fine, too---this is 1 to 1 1/2 boxes of stock)
Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
Stick the apple and onion into the cavity of the bird. You won't eat these, but they help keep the bird moist and flavorful. (You could also add some fresh herbs to the cavity like tarragon or sage, but this is optional)
Smear half a stick of butter all over the outside of the bird. Season liberally with salt and pepper
Place bird in roasting pan and pour stock all around the outside. Crumble up the remaining butter and add the butter pieces to the stock.
Roast for approximately 4 hours, basting every 30 minutes or so. If the turkey starts getting too dark (like you are worried the skin is going to burn), just loosely drape some foil over the top. Remember ..."done" is 165-170 degrees
Happy Thanksgiving!
.
That is, until the rest of the world tried to knock me off-balance. Simply turning on the oven and sticking a turkey in there was no longer good enough. You had to have an oven bag. Or you had to truss the bird. Or you had to buy a giant deep fryer. Or you had to soak it in brine for 3 days. Or you had to drape the turkey in a shroud of cheesecloth. Or you had to monkey with the temperature on the oven every fifteen minutes.
I bought into the mindset that someone else's methods MUST be superior to my own, so I tried a lot of them. I've trussed, I've stuffed, and I've spatchcocked (partially de-boned the turkey before cooking). I've used high heat and I've used low heat. I've used fresh, organic birds and I've used mass-marketed frozen brands.
Most of those methods work just fine and produce a good turkey dinner, but sometimes these new ways of doing things are a real pain in the neck. Because really, all that most people want is just a traditional turkey that is moist on the inside with a crispy skin on the outside.
So, I'll give you a recipe I've used and return to often... when I'm not experimenting with some dippy new method. In this recipe, you are asked to baste the turkey every half hour, which does take some attention, but presumably you are going to be in or near to the kitchen anyway. This extra step of basting is worth it in terms of moistness, flavor, and nicely-textured skin. I'll make some notes that I think are helpful before I get into the heart of the matter.
BASIC THANKSGIVING TURKEY
Notes:
-I like a 10-14 pound turkey of the frozen variety. Why frozen? Why not fresh, local, and organic? Because I know that even if an indecisive shopper before me traipsed around the store with the bird in her cart for 45 minutes before deciding she wants to serve ham this year and put it back in the meat department, it will still be safe and won't make anyone ill. That warm 45-minute cart ride is more dangerous for a fresh bird...that kind of fresh and organic can give you dysentery. Plus, I have had fresh birds that were downright gamey and unpleasant. Make sure you thaw your bird for 3-4 days in the refrigerator. A partially frozen bird will take forever to cook and will brown unevenly.
-Don't put your bread-based stuffing your into your raw bird and leave it while it cooks. That's another food safety issue. If you must stuff, do it in the last half hour of cooking. Stuffing served on the side is just as delicious and a whole lot less risky.
-Use a sturdy roasting pan with 3-4" high sides. You can use higher sides, but I like the hot air in the oven to circulate around my turkey. You can use lower sides, but you'll have to cut down the amount of stock and you may have a slightly drier bird. I like a pan with a rack, to make it easy to hoist it onto a carving platter, but that's totally optional. Avoid those aluminum roasting pans. They are so light and bendable, the weight of your turkey and fixings may just torque out of your oven mitts and onto the kitchen floor (your dog will love you, though).
-You can baste with an old-fashioned bulb baster (those gigantic eyedropper thingies), a big barbeque brush, or a giant spoon or small ladle. Any one of those tools will get the job done nicely.
-I don't recommend starting your bird at an ultra-high temperature as many pros do...I think it makes the skin do wonky and uneven things. Steady, medium heat gets the job done nicely.
-If your bird did not come with a pop-up thermometer, a meat thermometer is a very smart investment. You want your poultry at 165-170 degrees. Pink white meat is a real bummer.
-1 turkey 10-14 pounds, fully thawed
-1/2 an apple, seeds removed
-1/2 an onion
-1 stick of butter, cut in half and well-softened
-salt and pepper
-4-6 cups of turkey stock (good chicken broth is fine, too---this is 1 to 1 1/2 boxes of stock)
Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
Stick the apple and onion into the cavity of the bird. You won't eat these, but they help keep the bird moist and flavorful. (You could also add some fresh herbs to the cavity like tarragon or sage, but this is optional)
Smear half a stick of butter all over the outside of the bird. Season liberally with salt and pepper
Place bird in roasting pan and pour stock all around the outside. Crumble up the remaining butter and add the butter pieces to the stock.
Roast for approximately 4 hours, basting every 30 minutes or so. If the turkey starts getting too dark (like you are worried the skin is going to burn), just loosely drape some foil over the top. Remember ..."done" is 165-170 degrees
Happy Thanksgiving!
.
Saturday, November 10, 2012
" 'appy cooking! "
Today, I had the privilege to meet a great influence on my cooking life...Monsieur Jacques Pepin. Through his no-nonsense books and public television shows I learned as much (if not more!) than any course or working experience was ever able to teach me. I regularly reach for his 1976 classic book La Technique, as a reference. Pepin's style in the kitchen is relaxed and accessible, and so is his divine cookery. If you are interested in cooking, I suggest you get yourself to youtube or call your local PBS affiliate and watch every episode of his PBS series "More Fast Food..MY Way." Monsieur Pepin also advised me that one of his recent pulications, The Essential Pepin is outfitted with a very informative DVD. If you have ever fantasized, even for a moment, about learning to cook by working in a restaurant, please be advised that the only "learning" that will take place is by you paying hyper-close attention, making sure you are never tired or lazy, and surviving the wrath of a stressed-out chef or kitchen manager. Knowing this information about restaurant learning should assure you that having a DVD that walks you step-by-step through specific cooking techniques is almost as valuable as dropping 30K at a culinary school. I am going to make sure I own it, posthaste. My enthusiasm for cooking, though never really waning, just got a humongous shot in the arm and sent it clear up to the moon.
As Monsieur Pepin would say on TV..." 'appy cooking! "
As Monsieur Pepin would say on TV..." 'appy cooking! "
Thursday, November 8, 2012
Be a Better Foodie...Don't Eat!
I have been experimenting with intermittent modified fasting. That is, every few days, I severely restrict the amount of solid food I take in and opt for fresh water and/or some nutritious beverage to stave off hunger pangs. In my case, the nutritious beverage has been straight buttermilk.
Sounds awful, doesn't it? Oh, but it's not...read on, if you please.
My goal was two-pronged when I started this bizzaro regimen. First off, the house had been filled with Halloween candy for too long, trick-or-treating night having been delayed by Hurricane Sandy. I had been dipping into the candy almost daily, and some days my "dip" was more like the mad grab of a glutton. I felt a little gross, and I was sure the dryer was set too hot, since all of my jeans seemed to be a little bit tighter. Secondly, I recognized that I was suffering from the shamefully privileged phenomenon known as "palate fatigue." This phenomenon is basically burnout for cooks: surrounded by good food daily, I was losing my ability to appreciate it or sense the subtle nuances of flavor. I could go to one of those restaurants that boasted dishes costing about as much as a day's wages and think, "meh." At first, I thought it was my competitive streak playing sour grapes, but I soon realized that no...I just wasn't getting the same flavor appreciation anymore. That made me feel as gross as the tight jeans.
Maybe I needed a real break from food to re-develop some respect ("get thee behind me, Halloween fun-sizers!") and appreciation for it.
So I bought a half-gallon of buttermilk and laid off the good stuff for a day. And let me tell you, it was holy hell the first day. I had to drink of my sour elixir every two hours to keep from going crazy from my grumbling tum-tum. But I made it through the day. The next day, as predicted---the fresh fruit I chose for breakfast tasted like it had been picked by the hand of God. The palate fatigue was already on the way to being banished for good. And I felt clean on the inside...not overstuffed with a mountain of cheap treats. Finally, my energy level was tip-top.
Before you fill the comment section up with lectures on nutrition, basal metabolic set points, and yo-yo diets, I'd like to ask you to read on. Believe it or not, I happen to have studied nutrition more than the average person off of the street and I understand how and when an unusual idea can morph into a horrible one.
This particular idea, is not horrible. Intermittent fasting is just that...intermittent. It is completely different than self-starvation. And the irregular intervals and return to a normal caloric level in the meantime prevents your body from forcing itself into a starkly low new set point for energy needs. You've heard of that---a dieter works at it for too long and when they return to real-life eating they gain it all back in four days because they have trained their metabolism to only accept a very low calorie level. With intermittent fasting, you roll yourself back up to a more normal intake.
And the idea is also not horrible considering the culture in which we live. While we grouse about the economy, we Americans have it so good. ONLY here can we say such obnoxious things like, "Life is too short to drink cheap wine," or "I only drink 'brand x' coffee...I cannot stand that grocery store garbage." We also put ourselves on expensive health regimens. We need that 300.00 blender to properly make a smoothie. We need to shop at the expensive place for our special ingredients. We need to buy this absurdly priced chemically-manufactured protein substitute since we've gone hardcore vegan. I cannot disagree passionately enough. All we need is some simple, natural ingredients, readily available almost anywhere in our land of prosperity... and a desire to thrive.
In that way, intermittent fasting can make a gentle correction to our attitudes of crass consumerism. Mystics of every religion will wax philosophical about the spiritual benefits of fasting, and I usually glaze over at such testimonies, but fasting does distribute a healthy dose of humility. You wake up on a non-fasting day and you think, "Gosh. I only need what I need and it turns out I don't need as much as I thought I did." It opens up huge opportunities for both conserving and sharing the resources we are lucky enough to enjoy.
Still think I'm wacko for this new regimen? Then check out these links:
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/health/article-2183677/Why-starvation-diet-actually-good--make-live-longer.html
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/lifestyle/9480451/The-52-diet-can-it-help-you-lose-weight-and-live-longer.html
Finally, everything else notwithstanding, the dryer has stopped shrinking my jeans and the scale is down 6 points.
Bon Appetit (or not!)
Sounds awful, doesn't it? Oh, but it's not...read on, if you please.
My goal was two-pronged when I started this bizzaro regimen. First off, the house had been filled with Halloween candy for too long, trick-or-treating night having been delayed by Hurricane Sandy. I had been dipping into the candy almost daily, and some days my "dip" was more like the mad grab of a glutton. I felt a little gross, and I was sure the dryer was set too hot, since all of my jeans seemed to be a little bit tighter. Secondly, I recognized that I was suffering from the shamefully privileged phenomenon known as "palate fatigue." This phenomenon is basically burnout for cooks: surrounded by good food daily, I was losing my ability to appreciate it or sense the subtle nuances of flavor. I could go to one of those restaurants that boasted dishes costing about as much as a day's wages and think, "meh." At first, I thought it was my competitive streak playing sour grapes, but I soon realized that no...I just wasn't getting the same flavor appreciation anymore. That made me feel as gross as the tight jeans.
Maybe I needed a real break from food to re-develop some respect ("get thee behind me, Halloween fun-sizers!") and appreciation for it.
So I bought a half-gallon of buttermilk and laid off the good stuff for a day. And let me tell you, it was holy hell the first day. I had to drink of my sour elixir every two hours to keep from going crazy from my grumbling tum-tum. But I made it through the day. The next day, as predicted---the fresh fruit I chose for breakfast tasted like it had been picked by the hand of God. The palate fatigue was already on the way to being banished for good. And I felt clean on the inside...not overstuffed with a mountain of cheap treats. Finally, my energy level was tip-top.
Before you fill the comment section up with lectures on nutrition, basal metabolic set points, and yo-yo diets, I'd like to ask you to read on. Believe it or not, I happen to have studied nutrition more than the average person off of the street and I understand how and when an unusual idea can morph into a horrible one.
This particular idea, is not horrible. Intermittent fasting is just that...intermittent. It is completely different than self-starvation. And the irregular intervals and return to a normal caloric level in the meantime prevents your body from forcing itself into a starkly low new set point for energy needs. You've heard of that---a dieter works at it for too long and when they return to real-life eating they gain it all back in four days because they have trained their metabolism to only accept a very low calorie level. With intermittent fasting, you roll yourself back up to a more normal intake.
And the idea is also not horrible considering the culture in which we live. While we grouse about the economy, we Americans have it so good. ONLY here can we say such obnoxious things like, "Life is too short to drink cheap wine," or "I only drink 'brand x' coffee...I cannot stand that grocery store garbage." We also put ourselves on expensive health regimens. We need that 300.00 blender to properly make a smoothie. We need to shop at the expensive place for our special ingredients. We need to buy this absurdly priced chemically-manufactured protein substitute since we've gone hardcore vegan. I cannot disagree passionately enough. All we need is some simple, natural ingredients, readily available almost anywhere in our land of prosperity... and a desire to thrive.
In that way, intermittent fasting can make a gentle correction to our attitudes of crass consumerism. Mystics of every religion will wax philosophical about the spiritual benefits of fasting, and I usually glaze over at such testimonies, but fasting does distribute a healthy dose of humility. You wake up on a non-fasting day and you think, "Gosh. I only need what I need and it turns out I don't need as much as I thought I did." It opens up huge opportunities for both conserving and sharing the resources we are lucky enough to enjoy.
Still think I'm wacko for this new regimen? Then check out these links:
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/health/article-2183677/Why-starvation-diet-actually-good--make-live-longer.html
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/lifestyle/9480451/The-52-diet-can-it-help-you-lose-weight-and-live-longer.html
Finally, everything else notwithstanding, the dryer has stopped shrinking my jeans and the scale is down 6 points.
Bon Appetit (or not!)
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