Monday Nov 25

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From Plate to Palate: A Connotation Press Thanksgiving

The “tick tock” of the biological clock is nothing new for women my age. But the one difference between most of them and myself is my clock is counting down to a Thanksgiving food baby, the small bump that happens after overindulging in too many helpings of mashed potatoes, sprinkled in crisp turkey skin, and then smothered in silky homemade gravy. But what would give more pleasure than stuffing my face with stuffing on Thanksgiving would be knowing I was the one who made the stuffing everyone raves about for Thanksgivings to come.
 
While most hostesses cringe at the thought of basting a 30-pound turkey while trying to keep drunk uncles from dominating the relish tray and chatty sister-in-laws from distracting their attention away from the overflowing pot of boiling potatoes, I dream about it. As a kid I had more than my fair share of boxed Thanksgiving dinners, which tasted like the aluminum containers they came in. I longed to experience the chaos of tradition: the command of a table set for 20, the wiggle of the insane Jell-O salad made by Aunt Clara, the yelling becoming hushes becoming silence before saying grace. The more I become a food-conscious being, the more I hear my Thanksgiving biological alarm blaring Adam Sandler’s “The Thanksgiving Song.” Around August, I start looking for fresh turkey signs and comb through hundreds of recipes dog-eared in Bon Appetit and Gourmet for the most savory sides, crisp salads, rich potatoes, and buttery stuffings.  After scouring through magazines, cookbooks, and websites in September, I mash-up recipes like a Girl Talk track throughout all of October and November.
 
If I hosted Thanksgiving this year, the all gluten-free menu would include traditional herb-roasted turkey with gravy made from homemade turkey stock; cornbread stuffing with seared kale and toasted pecans; bacon-butter braised Brussels sprouts; simple steamed green beans; a hearty greens salad with a bright lemon vinaigrette; mini rosemary potato stacks; crack potatoes; roasted sweet potatoes with honey, maple syrup and chili peppers; cranberry relish with gin and orange zest; a relish tray with home pickled beets, okra, hot peppers, beans, and cucumbers; Gobble, Gobble cocktails; a case of Corti Benedettine del Padovano Raboso; and a couple of very classic apple pies. 
 
Alas, due the miles of the Ohio State Turnpike that separate my husband, dog, and I from our families, it’s difficult to travel with the dream menu. And taking in account how large our families are in proportion to how small our house is, another Thanksgiving will come and go without me meticulously setting a very festive table with my Kate Spade china, green depression glasses, and assortment of colorful fake leaves and buckeye bouquets.
 
As if Ken knew my longing to be hostess with the mostess, he invited me to piece together a special Thanksgiving column with several of our editors’ favorite Turkey Day dishes. Thankfully, my Connotation Press family contributed A-game pieces that turned a virtual potluck into a gorgeous feast that honors the best intentions of Thanksgiving Day. There are no words that can show my appreciation for them—only a promise that when we meet face-to-face, we will share a plate of food that will say it all. Gratefully, Amanda.
 
Gobble, Gobble Cocktail
(one serving—fast to make and no shake; in other words, perfect cocktail while cooking)
 
1 oz Watershed Gin
½ bottle of Fall Woodchuck Cider
 
Fill a tumbler glass with ice. Pour in gin. Top with cider. Stir and enjoy.
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Poetry Editor, Kaite Hillenbrand: Hannah's Favorite Apple Pie
 
The past few days, I’ve been thinking about my favorite Thanksgiving foods. The dishes that keep coming to mind are the ones that make the people I love happiest. This tends to involve a lot of butter – butter and honey, butter and sugar, butter and garlic, butter and onions and ham… For instance, carrots simmered in butter and honey. Green beans cooked with butter, garlic, onions, and ham. Sweet potato casserole with butter, brown sugar, and pecans. Butter me up!
 
But I think my most-loved dish is pie. My pecan pie’s nothing to sneeze at, but my apple pie turns heads and gets me some huge grins. It’s pretty delicious. I thought I’d share a few of my pie-making tricks with you. First, I always make my own crust. This is really the kicker. Let the butter get soft (not melty) and cut it into little ½ inch cubes. Put your flour in the bowl first, then add the butter so that each piece of butter gets coated in flour – otherwise, all of the pieces of butter will stick to themselves. I used to use a pastry cutter, but now I just use my hands (potters: this change happened after I learned to prepare clay for the wheel). Pick up a handful of flour/butter and squeeze it between your fingers and palms, using your thumbs to really mash the butter into the flour. After a while, your arms will burn, but the mixture will get crumbly and you won’t see chunks of butter or loose flour. That’s when to add ice water – add one tablespoon at a time and immediately fluff it with a fork. When the whole bowl is slightly moistened, start forming the dough into balls. You want the dough just wet enough to stick together. If you start forming balls of dough and it’s not wet enough, you can wet your hands – that’s a good way to evenly distribute extra moisture. But don’t get it too wet; you don’t want it to turn into glue.
 
Here are proportions for the crust: 2 ¼ c. all-purpose (unbleached) flour; 2/3 c. butter; 7-9 T. ice water (you want just enough water that the dough doesn’t break apart but not so much that it sticks to the rolling pin). If you use unsalted butter, add ¾ t. salt to the flour. This is enough for a double-crust pie.
 
As for the filling, I stuff as many apple slices (or peach slices!) in there as I can, and then I hope it doesn’t overflow! If I don’t have an apple tree to raid, I usually go for a mix of crispy, sweet apples and tart ones like Granny Smiths. If the apples aren’t too juicy, I sometimes add a little juice – orange juice is good, but any juice will do. My basic recipe is pretty simple: flour, sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, and a little lemon juice if the apples are sweet. Before laying the top crust over the pie, put a few slices of butter on the fruit. Butter makes just about everything better. Remember to cut some holes into the top crust. If you want, you can brush a little milk over the top crust and sprinkle sugar and spice on it.
 
If you have any crust left over after you make your pie, you can make jammy cookies – yum! Knead sugar into the extra dough and form it into little balls. Put these on a baking sheet, press your thumb down into the middle of each one, drop some jam into your thumbprint, and bake until cooked. These cookies are so good it’s worth making a batch of dough just to make the cookies! They’re way better than any jammy cookie recipe I’ve tried.
 
When I’m done, I wait for the smiles to begin, those happy eyes that say, Aw, Grandma used to cook for me like this. Filling someone’s heart and tummy – that’s the best part.
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Fiction Editor, Meg Tuite: Thanksgiving with Mom
 
Mom was the conductor and the orchestra on Thanksgiving. She had everything timed to meet every crescendo and flat note that strained her ears, like a cousin who pulled up a chair to the side table of shrimp on ice and proceeded to suck down every one of them before she could pull it away from him. How she managed with the rabid audience surrounding her, sticking our fingers in everything and incapable or unwilling to help with much, I have no idea? She did have her pink Chablis while working the room, but god knows how many bottles I would have uncorked to get through the day like she did with such style and ease. I have to face the facts. My sisters and I caused havoc. We got cousins drunk, we got drunk, we fought over dark meat and second helpings of stuffing, beat each other with drumsticks, but through it all, my mom smiled and laughed and had a great time. She loved the holidays.
 
I miss her horribly and she would probably smirk when I passed along my favorite dish of all the amazing works of art she prepared each year. Yes, it was the green beans, mushroom soup, milk & crispy fried onions, all from a can. Mix & bake for 45 minutes at 350. Yummy! Mom, I miss you constantly, but especially during the holidays! How I wish I could watch you drink your pink Chablis and sit back while I labored over every dish you made for us each year! Cheers!
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Discover Travel Columnist, Nicholas Baker: Thanksgiving with the Brits
 
As a family of Brits living in Southern California, Thanksgiving was a novelty for us. Although we had never celebrated it in England it soon became our favorite holiday. My mum was a typical English Frying Pan Cook, so she was rarely very creative when it came to the  Thanksgiving meal. She could roast a turkey, and she never met a potato she didn't like, but most vegetables and side dishes were a mystery to her. When I came of age, I took it upon myself to add some green to our Thanksgiving table. Here is a side dish I have been making for years, that is always a crowd pleaser:
 
Four cups of frozen garden peas.
8 green onions
2 small heads of butter lettuce.
1 pint of cream
1/8 cube of butter
pinch of nutmeg
Salt, pepper to taste
 
Bring the peas to a boil and then add in the chopped green onions, and torn pieces of the lettuce.
Add the cream, butter and nutmeg, and bring back to a boil.
Drain it off and serve with a shake of salt and pepper.
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Video-poem Editor, Erica Goss: Thanksgiving Disaster
 
Our oven died, completely, irreversibly, and fatally, in the middle of cooking a 20-lb Thanksgiving turkey. With a half-baked turkey and three pies still to go, we called our neighbors across the street in the hopes that their oven was available. Yes, they had a functioning oven, and it was empty. My husband lugged the bird, slippery in its flimsy aluminum pan, across the street. I live in an area of steep hills and precarious roads; try hiking uphill with a 20-lb turkey splashing hot grease onto your shoes!
 
But what about the pies? Our neighbors had to leave for their Thanksgiving with family before we could bake the pies. We called another neighbor, and miraculously, her oven was also available. We carried those pies, trying not to spill their liquid pumpkin-and-condensed-milk fillings all over ourselves, up the hill to her house.
 
When we finally sat down to begin the feast, I reflected on how much I was grateful for. Thanks to our neighbors and their ovens, our guests had no idea that the food they enjoyed had made an unscheduled trip a few hours earlier.
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Artisan Review Editor, Brittany Connolly: Giblet Gravy

Since my very first memory of Thanksgiving dinner, my favorite dish is probably the most mundane holiday fare (besides maybe the turkey, dressing, and cranberry sauce, which I’ve never had a taste for.) Over the years, I’ve fallen in love with my mother’s Thanksgiving gravy, packed full of delicious giblets and, of course, turkey neck. I don’t know how common it is to have pieces of heart and kidney floating around in gravy, but they are definitely tasty morsels that make this special recipe the centerpiece of my Thanksgiving meals.
 
 
Giblet Gravy Recipe
 
Remove all organ parts from the body of the turkey.
 
Discard those you do not want in the gravy – the liver and neck must stay!  Others optional but kidneys are very tasty if cooked long enough.  Heart is tough,
so may not be desired.
 
Have two large cartons of Swanson’s Beef Broth handy for this recipe.
 
Place organs in medium saucepan, cover with broth, bring to boil and then let simmer for several hours or until neck meat is tender and falling off the bones. 
You will be able to tell when it is at that stage, because if it has not cooked long enough the meat will be tough to remove.  This is the best part of the gravy - do not omit cooking the neck.
 
Replace broth as it cooks down.  Do not let the liquid boil or simmer away – keep meat covered.
 
When meat has finished cooking remove it from the remaining broth.  Chop the tender meats in small pieces and peel the neck meat off the bone.  Strain the broth to remove loose particles.
 
Shortly before serving, place all meats back in the pan and add more broth to cover.  Add approximately 1/3 cup of turkey juices to the pan.  Bring to medium boil.
 
Pour 1 cup of fresh, room temperature broth into a cup.  Add three or four heaping tablespoons of cornstarch to the cold broth and mix until it dissolves in the broth.
 
Pour the broth/cornstarch mixture into the boiling gravy mixture and cook, stirring constantly until the mixture comes to a boil again.  It will thicken immediately upon reaching boiling temperature.
 
If the mixture needs more thickening for your taste, add more cold broth to a measuring cup and also add more cornstarch to it.  The cold broth and starch combination is what causes the thickening.
 
Pour on potatoes, dressing, or turkey and indulge!
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Publisher/Founding Editor-in-Chief, Ken Robidoux: Grandma's Orange Salad
 
For many of the years that I grew up with my Mom we didn't celebrate holidays. Mom's a Jehovah's Witness. During holiday time my Gram would invite us over to eat dinner on or around Thanksgiving, but not for "Thanksgiving dinner." And man, my Gram could cook. The woman understood the intricacies of gravy better than anyone I've ever known before or since. Amazing food, from the recipes of her family-- dust-bowl fleeing, down-home, hard-scrabble, Kansas folk. Gram's was the kind of food that caused us to save a little bread at the end to sop up any delicious stuff left on the plate when we were done.
 
However, there was one dish that I could never get my head around. One incredibly strange dish of dubious origin that just by looking at it would turn me away. And it was really pretty too, gorgeous in its own way. No, it wasn't how it looked that was the problem. It was what was in it that freaked me out. And my family loved it! I can clearly remember my Uncle Mike cheering for it. Mind boggling.  
 
Here, then, is what my Gram would call her Orange Salad, and I'm only guessing about the measurements. I never had the nerve to ask!
 
First, make a big-ass clear-glass (the reason will become quickly apparent) dish of ORANGE JELLO and suspend in it an entire bag of mini-marshmallows. Let harden or whatever it is that Jello does.
 
Then, coat the entire top of the Jello/mini-marshmallow mix with a generous quarter inch plus of MAYONAISE! Yep, you read that right. Gram liked Best Foods mayo...a lot. 
 
Finally, load another one-quarter to one-half inch of orange AMERICAN CHEESE to the top and you're done!
 
I remember being tempted time and again to eat it. It looked like summer-- all orangy and white and fluffy and...mayonnaisy and cheesy?!! Sometimes, I would even put it on my plate, but the moment that mayonaise hit my tongue: WHOA! And I really like mayo, too. It was just that this concoction seemed like some kind of crime against humanity. HA!
 
Gram's been gone since February 2003, and I'd give just about anything to be able to tease her about that damn Orange Salad one more time. I could get her laughing so hard she'd cry.