Countdown to Thanksgiving

There is no occasion that is more of a showplace for my inner Iron Chef than Thanksgiving.  Many people try to avoid making that big Thursday meal; I beg people to come to my house and eat with us.  For me, as more people gather at my table I can add proportionally to my menu.   And when all else fails, I just cook and bake what I like, reveling in the leftovers for days to come.

I have a few basic rules for my Thanksgiving feast.  First, it is a time for the good china.  Yes, it is inconvenient to pull all the gold-rimmed dishes from their hiding places, and it is a pain in the neck to hand wash the plates (they really should NOT go in the dishwasher), but it is also a day with a large captive workforce.  For as long as there is football on the television, it is easy to enlist washers and dryers.

Second, I always get a fresh Turkey.  I live close to a farm that procures local birds, so there is no reason to tolerate a frozen bird.  Also, my method of choice is brining.  Brining is a foolproof approach to a moist bird.  Those of you who baste all day long are unnecessarily heating your kitchen by opening the oven door.  I brine the day before and then fill the space between the skin and breast with a compound herb-butter (garlic, parsley, thyme).  This makes a moist and delicious no-fuss turkey.  I roast my turkey early in the day and then wrap it loosely in foil.  It will stay warm for hours, freeing the oven for all the other delights of Thanksgiving.  In my next life, I will have two ovens.

Third, I plan and prep in advance.  On Monday I bake pies (apple and chocolate pecan pies keep well when covered in the refrigerator), make compound butter, and set the table.  On Tuesday I bring home my reserved turkey and buy all the vegetables.  I roast and tease out my spaghetti squash, storing the stringy goodness in a large Ziploc bag in the refrigerator.  It is easily reheated before serving by tossing in some brown butter and sage.  On Wednesday, I prep my stuffing.  This involves cutting up cubes of cornbread and toasting it in the oven, as well as chopping onions and celery.  All of these are packed in Ziploc bags, including the seasonings (Bell’s poultry seasoning).  I like apples (and sometimes sausage or walnuts) in my stuffing.  Apples must be dealt with fresh as you compile the stuffing, so getting everything else prepped and out of the way early is a great help.  And for the record, never put stuffing that will be eaten inside a turkey.  To impart added flavor, I pack onion, celery, thyme, and a bay leaf inside the cavity, but it is all discarded before serving.

Once my turkey goes in the oven on Thursday morning I begin veggie prep.  My daughter is vegan and loves to help chop the vegetables that make up her Thanksgiving feast, so I keep this task for after she has returned home from college.  I like to get a huge array of vegetables (butternut squash, Brussels sprouts, red onions, baby potatoes, turnips, baby carrots, Jerusalem artichokes, celery root) and roast them in the oven (it is the best way to cook almost every vegetable), separating them by their seasonings.  For example, I toss thyme springs with the carrots, maple syrup with the butternut squash, balsamic vinegar with the Brussels sprouts, rosemary with the potatoes, and salt, pepper and extra virgin olive oil on everything.

I have one cheating contingency for Thanksgiving:  gravy.  I am not one who covers my meat and starches with gravy—it is fat mixed with butter and flour, for heaven’s sake! On the other hand, I understand that to many of my diners, gravy is as important as the turkey on which it congeals.  As a concession to them, I pick up a quart of frozen homemade gravy from my local farm store, mixing it with some of my pan drippings as I reheat it.

Cranberry sauce comes in two varieties in my house.  I make fresh whole-berry sauce from local berries picked in Plymouth, Mass, adding a little orange zest and juice.  I also make a more complex cranberry chutney with onions, garlic and vinegar.  These are made on my stove.   Anyone who needs cranberry sauce from a can, can sit their can at someone else’s table.

Finally, my house is a no-yam-zone.   I do not like marshmallowed yams; I do not like them, Sam-I-am.

Many families have traditions of blessing and prayers at their Thanksgiving feast.  At our table, we start with the youngest person present and go around the table expressing the things for which we are thankful.  I like to let the kids go first, because it is humbling and heartwarming to hear what they express without echoing the adult sentiments.  Kids today are remarkably aware of the world around them.  Although in my experience they seldom take the time to say thank you to their parents, it can be surprising and reassuring to hear how much they appreciate what they have.