Friday, November 27, 2009

The Morning After

As the sun rose, and the dust cleared, one thing was certain: Nothing was left. The rising sun slowly drew an outline around each remnant of the prior day's battle. There was no evidence of the lives that were at that very spot just 12 hours prior. Only carnage and refuse. In this battle, there were no victors. And somewhere, in the distance, just barely audible above the wind rifling through the previous day's remains, the soft sound of "Taps"played.

(insert record scratching sound here)

Yeah, that's bullshit. Let's throw it out there: I've declared victory against my age old nemesis; the Puddy Tat to my Tweety bird; the Tom to my Jerry: The Turkey. This is a victory on a grande scale: so grande that the word grande deserved that extra "e".

So what was on the menu?
Turkey: As I mentioned prior, I had considered dry brining. Certainly would have been far easier given my space limitations, but because my DiPaola's turkey didn't arrive until the day before Thanksgiving I was left with a wet brine. I used Alton Brown's Good Eats recipe, with a couple of tweaks.




Stuffing: There are only two reasons for Thanksgiving to exist: football and stuffing. Growing up, my grandmother, who is Italian, made a bread-less stuffing. I get quizzical looks from most people. "Did she stuff it with air?" ask my favorite anorexics, their eyes glittering with excitement. But, no, my grandmother's stuffing was pure unadulterated sausage. Now before you make some snide comment about a pig crawling up a turkey's ass... well what do you think a terducken is? Now, I've never been able to embrace full-on sausage stuffing for myself, but every year, my stuffing has a healthy dose of pork-a-liciousness. This year I think I have come upon the magic formula.

Pumpkin Soup: I hate making pies. It is the whole crust thing. I hate rolling out pie crust, and the thought of a store-bought crust makes me feel like a David Beckham-size sell-out.  But a Thanksgiving without pumpkin is like a Christmas without a kid peeing on mall Santa's lap: Yeah... it's still Christmas, but it's a lot less fun. And so this year, in lieu of pumpkin pie, I made pumpkin soup. I was going to make Bobby Flay's Pumpkin Soup, but after reading the reviews, I ended up changing it up quite a bit.

Cranberry Sauce: I make a damn good cranberry sauce. I've made approximately 583 types of cranberry sauce, and I think that all of them have been pretty damn good. And yet, every year, 80% of each goes uneaten. (The line my dad used to pound into my head, comes to mind: "Courtney, maybe it's not everyone else. Maybe it's you.") Bearing this in mind, and with my therapist's phone number clenched tightly in my fist, I took a different route this year. Most complain that cranberry sauce is too sour. So I soured up something sweet instead: I made Brian's Pickled Raisins from Susan Goin's cookbook.

Green Beans: I figured a lack of green on the table would be a mistake, and though my preference would have been brussel sprouts, roasting them for an hour would have been impractical. So green beans almondine with lemon it was.... courtesy of the amazing Alice Waters.





Rolls: yeah. I bought these. And then... I forgot to serve them. Oops.

Chocolate Terrine and Caradamom Creme Anglaise: I make Thomas Keller's recipes with very little regularity because I actually have a day job. But Thomas Keller's Chocolate Terrine is easy to make and can be made up to 3 days ahead. His Bouchon version is served with Creme Anglaise and hand peeled pistachios (See: "Day Job"). And so for this iteration, I served it with something that didn't require hand peeling little green nuts: Cardamom Creme Anglaise.

Goat Cheese and Pumpkin Panna Cotta: Approximately 3 hours before guests were to arrive, I panicked: What if there wasn't enough food? Or wine? Or even worse than all of these things: dessert? And so, thinking about as lucidly as Kanye at the VMA's, I decided to come up with a dessert. This is it.

Recipes will follow... I'm going to go eat some stuffing.

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