Ode to a Turkey

Thanksgiving was fantastic, as usual. I am one to not take entertaining lightly, and my mommy dearest and I spent a couple seamless days in the kitchen together throwing everything together from scratch with very little panic.

I'm not a huge fan of turkey, but I belong to the school of thought that it's just not thanksgiving without one, and you might as well get the best free-range bird you can find. A little unorthodox, but I found that spatchcocking the bird and salting it a few days beforehand was a good move. I've only ever spatchcocked chickens, and the more robust turkey was a bit of a challenge. You cut out the backbone and then give it a good CPR-style thunk on the breast to break the breastbone, which flattens it into a more ideally cookable shape. Also, it looks completely obscene when it's on the roasting pan, which was amusing me to no end.

We didn't do it up on the grill this year, which meant the house was soon filled with thick black turkey grease smoke that the ancient stove hood couldn't even begin to suck up. The smoke detector was quickly disabled and it was warm enough out so windows could be comfortably opened. All was well. I used this recipe from Serious Eats (bookmark it for next year!) to help me on my way- A 12lb bird took only an hour and a half, and I added some cheap red wine to the roasting pan so it could steam in a bit of an alcohol vapor.

The results:

The wingtips were a little crispy, but it came out perfectly, with dark bronzed and crispy skin (just like the many denizens of Bay Ridge).

No one went hungry, and we ate well for days to come. It was warm enough to relax by the firepit out back without risking your derrière freezing over, and there was mulled cider and plenty of wine to warm your heart.

Sweet Jesus, it's Thanksgiving!

Turkey on the Webber is the only way to go for me. It puts all other Turkey cooking methods to shame.

Despite its puritanical roots, Thanksgiving really IS the best holiday for Americans. I love it dearly, if only because it's based not on archaic religious beliefs or traditions, but food. Lots of good, buttery, gravy-soaked food. I know Americans all over the world make an effort to celebrate, with hardships to get around like how they won't slaughter turkeys in France and Italy until Christmas.

I'm going to be traveling for a bit but I'll have lots of pictures and stories when I return. Have a fantastic Thanksgiving, wherever you happen to be.

Thanksgiving!

I hope that everyone had a wonderful Thanksgiving. Any holiday that involves overeating with your loved ones can't be all that bad, right?



As long as I have enough booze to see me through...

Thanksgiving is by far my favorite holiday. Sometimes I make a mini thanksgiving dinner at home when the mood strikes me, usually in mid-April. Since my family lives in the far reaches of northern Maine and they aren't exactly easily accessible, visits are few and far between and they are usually a pretty big effort on my part to get there. No matter though. So we got nearly a foot of snow this year...it was pretty stunning to wake up surrounded by deep winter.





No matter that I didn't have my winter boots on me since it's still a balmy 60 in New York as of late so I wouldn't even know where to start looking for them. I did get yelled at for punching holes in the lawn with my spike heels before changing into a pair of enormous Wellies that were handy.

Family thinks I might be a tad special. I just go along with it.

Because he just had major surgery, my Grandfather isn't supposed to be using the chainsaw or lifting more than 25 pounds, but apparently he's ok to get the snowblower going.



It left the younger generation to deal with the downed trees.











We also have a nice tradition to grill the turkey slow and low out on the Webber.



I normally count turkey as one of my least favorite animals to eat, but do it up on the grill over coals and I'm in heaven. It's perfectly juicy with that lovely smokey taste that leads me to believe that I might be a closeted Southerner.









It makes me contemplate thankfulness, of course. I have my health and I live better than the majority of the world does.



I am thankful that the kitchen is small enough so that you couldn't possibly fit one more person around the sink to do dishes.



I got to clean the turkey carcass instead. For some sick reason, I love doing that job and I get about as Zen'ed out as one possibly can while dealing with a giant mutant bird carcass.

Thanksgiving is right at the tail end of deer hunting season in Maine. Growing up, we always had venison for or with dinner since someone ought to have gotten a deer tagged by then. For whatever reason, no one in the family hunts any more. Bambi gets to frolic around the back yard while we're eating notdeer.

It was fabulous to see everyone and interesting to see the landscape change as I'm usually only willing to make that journey in the middle of summer, when the lake has no ice on it and the brave might even dip a toe in.



I couldn't leave Maine without finding a descent Lobster roll either. It just doesn't feel right.