Towers of Turkey

I’ve waited so long to write my Thanksgiving blog post that it’s almost Christmas. Yikes. Apologies for the delay, but I'm knee deep in planning Christmas Dinner for 30. (In a moment of hubris and overestimation of my talents I may have volunteered to helm our family's biannual Christmas gathering. Ooops.) And in all honesty I didn’t know where to start on my Turkey Day entry.

I could start with a detailed list of the embarrassingly OBSCENE amounts of food we had. No joke. We’re talking 3 Turkeys, 1 ham, 1 duck, 15 pounds of potatoes, 1 tray of mac and cheese, 1 soup, 20 sides, 5 pies, 1 apple pudding, 1 almond tart, 3 cakes, 6 trays of stuffing and a partridge in a pear tree. Ok, I made the last one up but you get the drift. Obscene. Amounts. Of food.

Or I could start with the list of typical near-disasters that occurred. The turkey that refused to thaw-leaving us with an entire leftover bird when it finally emerged, perfectly done about 30 minutes AFTER dessert. The three batches of gravy that went awry. The seating mishaps, the minor spats. The late start to dinner that meant some folks had to leave for other parties. Oh, and then there was the oven fire.

Rather than focus on all those things I prefer to focus on what fun the whole affair was. There was some delicious food consumed, at a lovely table. Happy glowing neighbors and friends of neighbors abounded. And did I mention the Richard Simmons placecards? (LL is demonstrating those in one of the attached pics.)

All mishaps aside, it’s those bumps and messes along the way that sometimes make for the best meals. Or at least the most family-like. And we had enough to feed anyone and everyone that came near Hobart Street for over a week. What more can you ask?

Courage

I’m not sure where I’ve been hiding, but did you know that the President of the United States officially pardons a turkey for Thanksgiving every year? That it’s been a holiday tradition since Truman?

I did not know that. The lucky bird, this year his name is ‘Courage’ (seriously!?! I couldn’t make that up), gets officially pardoned and then apparently flown FIRST CLASS to Disneyland to serve as the grand marshal on a Thanksgiving float. Then Courage, who has so recently cheated death, retires to live on some fake ranch at Disneyland. Although personally, if I were a turkey I’m pretty sure I’d opt to end up as dinner over living out the remainder of my days at Disneyland.

According to an article in the Washington Post today that’s worth a read, Butterball turkeys like Courage only live 4 months. They’re bred for breast meat….which explains why Courage weighs in at a whopping 45 pounds. That’s too big, especially for a bird destined for the table. There’s no way to cook a bird that size without seriously under or over cooking portions, but I digress.

I have a number of beefs with this entire process, although overall I find it highly entertaining. First off let’s start with the fact that the POTUS is the one doing the pardoning. Really? He has nothing better to do with his time? I mean come on! I get that it’s tradition. We’re big on tradition in the U.S., especially when it comes to our leaders but seriously.

Second, they fly Courage to Disneyland first class. First class? I’VE never flown first class. Plus Courage has an understudy, Carolina. Just in case he gets stage fright at the parade tomorrow. I’m assuming they both get a first class seat. Although maybe Carolina gets relegated to coach with the hoi polloi until she gets her big break.

And lastly, like most traditions, I’m assuming there’s some symbolism here. But for the life of me I can’t figure out what it is in this case. I suppose on some level the whole thing is very American. Butterball, slaughterer of millions of oversized overweight commercial birds, saves one symbolic bird from the fate of its brethren who will be consumed by millions of Americans who will gorge themselves on far too much food during a holiday that supposedly represents the spirit of cooperation and gratitude. Don’t get me started on the hypocrisy of the “historical” components of Thanksgiving. And to top off this turkey ceremony, insult to injury, Butterball’s lucky bird gets sent to DISNEYLAND. Sigh. American commercialism trumps all again. It’s like having POTUS do commercial spots for Butterball and Disney. Ick.

I will say Obama handled the whole thing with a respectably self-deprecating level of humor. If you care to check it out CSPAN gave the 10 minute ceremony top billing this morning. Sometime around minute 2 or 3 is Obama’s borderline snarky comment about how he feels about the 15 minutes he spent hanging out with Courage today. Otherwise he does his duty pretty willingly all told.

Happy Thanksgiving! I'm off to finish prepping for tomorrow, wish me luck we have a full table and a lot of prepping left to do. There will be no birds pardoned at my house this year. In fact three of them, possibly four if the duck happens, plus a pig will grace our table this year. And I'm very thankful for every last one of them.

Past as Prologue

Mid-search for more Thanksgiving recipes I found a NYT article from 1895 with some entertaining vintage menus in it. We’re midway through planning the Hobart St. Thanksgiving dinner, so our menu is still a moving target. For now I can’t resist the urge to share “ye olde Thanksgiving menus.” The pertinent story is halfway down the page listed under “Thanksgiving Day 1895."

Surprisingly there was one recipe for pumpkin pie included, circa 1656, that actually looks like it had some potential. In addition to your standard nutmeg/cinnamon/allspice/clove pumpkin pie spices this recipe added thyme, rosemary, parsley, pepper and marjoram. I don’t know about that last one, marjoram easily hints of soap to me, but the idea of a savory pumpkin pie is something I could definitely get behind.

It’s sacrilege to admit so close to their big day, but pumpkin pies are my least favorite fall food. I’ll eat it if someone makes it. Out of a sense of decorum on Thanksgiving I try a sliver every year just to make sure my tastes haven’t changed (don’t mock, I find my tastes frequently evolve for the better as I get older). But I might have to give some thought to this rosemary and thyme inclusion. Maybe in the crust? The rest of the pie bears little to no resemblance to modern incarnations, there are slices of real pumpkin laid in the pie and something that seems to closely resemble custard poured over the top if I’m reading my 17th century cooking lingo correctly.

Items included in the “old-fashioned” Thanksgiving menu from 1895: oyster soup, breadsticks, olives, celery, chicken pie, creamed macaroni with cheese, radishes, roast turkey, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, turnips, onions, squash, cranberry sauce, lettuce salad with French dressing, mince pie, apple pie, pumpkin pie, apples, nuts, raisins, coffee and cheese wafers (high quality crackers with good cheese melted on top in the oven apparently).

The article specifies that ONLY red and yellow apples with chrysanthemums should adorn the room, by the way. None of those fake turkey centerpieces or tablescapes a la that dreadful Sandra Lee person on the Food Network.

The “modern” menu the paper listed, per a famed Delmonico chef included: mortadella, celery, codfish, egg sauce, lamb chops a la Robinson, croquettes of macaroni, curry of chicken a l’Espagnola, mushrooms on toast, punce en surprise (punce?!?), roast turkey, cranberry sauce, celery salad, mince pie, strachino cheese and coffee.
I have to point out, no only did both “old” and “new” recipes in this article include a “macaroni” dish, but they both list celery as a standalone dish without elaborating on a preparation. I’m curious now. Maybe we’re missing out on something exciting to do with celery? I’m skeptical.

PS: There’s a frightening, but ironically placed, article directly following all the talk of menus warning about the effects of unseasonably warm weather on the slaughtered turkeys that year. You might want to skip the finer details, but it references unpleasant odors and “damp” turkeys. Menus might make me nostalgic but I’ll take a life with refrigeration any day.

This Little Piggy Went to Market

A chance discovery at the Mt.P farmers market last weekend has me dreaming of the myriad uses for pork fat. On the hunt for ingredients for a traditional Italian dinner we discovered that Truck Patch Farm carries guanciale. (This being territory south of the Mason-Dixon line they call it smoked pork jowl, not guanciale, but same same.)


Last weekend was all about Italia. FG was in town visiting. Per usual we started the weekend with wine and cheese. That progressed to delicious homemade muffins with KF and her charming mother. Saturday afternoon rounded things out with a tart fall salad via IAG. But that was all just a warm-up for dinner. Inspired by the guanciale discovery on a trip to the market between muffins and salad, FG made bucatini all’amatriciana.

It never ceases to amaze me how much flavor pork imparts to things it’s cooked with. Had a chat today actually about the flavor possibilities of pork vs. chicken vs. beef. Consensus found chicken to be somewhat lacking. And I had to plug the grassfed beef as being particularly flavorful. Plus I’m a sucker for slow cooked beef as well. And veal. Ok, clearly the girl from the dairy state digs her cows. But I have to admit that pork is rapidly gaining some ground for me as a cook.

Speaking of pigs, the pork shoulder that MN graciously smoked for us over Halloween was every bit as good as you think it was. Awesome. And remarkable to me what depth of flavor wood smoke imparts to food. I have serious smoker envy now. MN’s Is a thing of beauty to behold. Seriously. I’m looking for pictures so you can appreciate, and not having much luck. You’ll have to trust me. It’s gorgeous. And that pork. Oh. My. God. If he’s not careful we might make him smoke everything.

Anyway, back to the pork-tastic meal from last weekend. Truck Patch was also the source of some delicious Italian sausage which was broiled with cheese on crostini. Also finally found the perfect perch for some awesome sardines that JH brought me from Portugal earlier this year atop a baguette with butter. We were almost too full for the bucatini all’amatriciana. Almost.

It was a perfect, mostly local, and almost entirely pig and carb based meal. It was perfect.

If I was feeling more honest I would go back and revise my “Turkey Turkey Pig Turkey” post. It should probably read Turkey, Pig, Pig, Pig, Turkey. Not only was last weekend pork-centric, but we’ve dropped one turkey meal from the lineup. Not from any lack of interest in turkey per se, but more because I clearly have been distracted by other meals. Plus Thanksgiving needs my full attention this year—IAG and I just started planning what looks to be a lovely menu. Very, very excited. Stay tuned.

Ciao

There’s been much written about the demise of Gourmet. How it was an institution, how it was such a strong brand, how it changed the way we eat and helped people realize that eating is an inherently political act. And I agree with all those stances. In blog years the folding of the magazine was eons ago so I won’t retread what others have said, I just can’t move forward without at least a small perfunctory nod to my erstwhile favorite food mag.

In keeping with the theme of this blog I think what I’ll miss most about Gourmet (aside from the regular venue it gave Ruth Reichl) will be its invaluable expansion of what we consider “fit for human consumption.” And by “fit” I don’t just mean edible or delicious. I think Gourmet was one of a number of national platforms that helped people start to think about what their food choices mean, how food really does touch on every aspect of our lives from the purely superficial to the deep and meaningful. I believe that thinking about those things is very important, even in light of all the self-righteousness that has arisen around some sectors of the food industry (I’m looking at you vegan activists and militant locavores). There’s so much about food that has a larger context, and whether I agree with all sides of the issue or not, I do think the dialog itself was important.

So here’s my final toast to Gourmet, in all its glossy, pretty, fanciful food presentations, its top notch travel features, and some of its more serious endeavors. Thanks for helping us really figure out what’s “fit” to consume. You will be missed.

Turkey, Turkey, Pig, Turkey.

There was plenty of food consumed in the two (three??) months since I last posted. Meals made. Friends gathered. Menus planned. Plenty of ideas marinated as well. But nothing to compare with the next month. Not only are we in the thick of my favorite time of year-culinarily (yes i know that’s not a real word but clearly it should be so I’m using it anyway) and otherwise—but Hobart Street has been/is/will be the site of a considerable amount of edible riffing on fall themes in the next few weeks.

By the time December rolls around the capacious dining room tables at my house will have supported no fewer than three Turkeys. And dozens of friends will have gathered to give thanks for whatever it is they give thanks for, which with this crowd probably mostly means for the food, wine and good company.

We kicked things off with a lovely Canadian Thanksgiving celebration courtesy of Chef Jen B. Canadian Thanksgiving, it turns out, looks much like American Thanksgiving with the addition of some new-to-me desserts including a butter tart that is every bit as decadent and rich as it sounds.

We’re interjecting a Halloween open house into the Turkey Day line-up this weekend. Slow cooked pork will elbow aside the ungainly turkey for one night. As a total aside, don’t you just love the complexity you get when you slow cook things? It’s the ultimate example of patience rewarded. The supporting case for our pig, courtesy of neighbor Mike, will be a full barrage of comfort foods to fortify the neighborhood adults for the onslaught of marauding pint-sized trick-or-treaters that descend on the street. The flip side of living in a locale that closely resembles the friendly feel of Sesame St. or Mr. Roger’s neighborhood is that it attracts the same fans those shows did. Don’t get me wrong, Halloween is my favorite holiday on Hobart but I don’t think I was prepared for the sheer volume of hopped-up-on-sugar-kids we saw last year. This year I know better and we have a very VERY large pile of refined sugar products waiting to be distributed.

Once the costumed kids and the neighbors’ annual Halloween show have passed we’re into November. And November means Practice Thanksgiving. I view it as a dinner which let’s me experiment with more untraditional dishes that might not be ready to incorporate fully into the actual Turkey Day menu yet. But turkey number two takes its bow at this party.

Our final bird will mark Thanksgiving itself. Due to a number of factors—namely a family wedding and bit of travel fatigue—I’m opting to stay in Washington for Thanksgiving. I was calling it “Orphans Thanksgiving” for awhile, implying that we were picking up any strays who couldn’t or weren’t inclined to head out of town. But so many folks have opted to stay on purpose (myself included) that it really feels like a deliberate destination. Not so much a meal for orphans and strays as it is a pretty exciting gathering of some of my favorite folks. I’m more than a little bit excited. And not just because it gives me a chance to try out a few recipes before tackling a high pressure Christmas dinner for 35 in December (more on that mess at a later date).

I’ll try to take some good pics of the rest of our trio of fowl and the lone swine.

The Other Side of the Beloved Burger

After all of the Rah-Rahs for Burgers on this blog, I feel like it's only fair to include a link to this article, decidedly not Fit For Human Consumption.