Thanksgiving

I’ts no surprise that Thanksgiving is a foodie’s Superbowl, that a November issue of Cooking Light is equivalent to the September issue of Vogue, that a little too much planning goes into the day. Well, darn it, it should be. The singular activity designated for this holiday is to eat a ridiculously big meal with family. Everyone expects it to be special, and that’s where we come in. I voluntarily made most of this meal, mainly to prove to myself that I could, but also to prove that a Thanksgiving plate doesn’t have to weigh you down–the classics can be updated and paired smartly so it still looks like a holiday, but doesn’t turn you into a parade float. Case in point, the “stuffing”…

Wild Rice Dressing with Roasted Chestnuts and Cranberries. Definitely not a Stouffer’s or cornbread and sausage affair, but so good. The rice was nutty and fragrant, a little sauteed carrot, onion, and celery with herbs (sage, parsley, thyme) added freshness, roasted chestnuts gave earthiness (just open the can and roast on a sheet pan for a few minutes), and rehydrated dried cranberries gave a little tart, sweet pop. It didn’t overwhelm the other dishes, and reheated like a dream with a little chicken broth (doesn’t regular stuffing just sog after awhile?) Labor intensive? Well, yeah. But you’re allowed to take that time. That’s what the day is for. And the results are worth it.

Brussels Sprouts with Garlic and Shallots. I nixed the bacon from the recipe, using olive oil instead of drippings. Just a little sliced garlic and shallots elevated the flavor subtly, a little broth at the end let them steam a little after caramelizing to just the right doneness. If you’re not a fan in general, I might not convert you. But if you’re not a fan because you’ve only had the shriveled, boiled lumps from a can, I dare you to wrinkle your nose at these.

Fresh salad. Just greens, tomatoes, pomegranate aerils. I didn’t make a vinaigrette, figuring you could blend the items on the plate without having one oily, tangy dressing cover all. A fresh, clean note is always welcome–like cleansing the palette in between bites.

Butternut squash with almonds. Joan brought this dish and it was a perfect accompaniment. I’d say some kind of root veg or hearty squash is essential for the day, and butternut squash have such great flavor. The starch content is also a bit lower than potatoes, so you won’t feel like a sack of bricks when you try to get up from the table. Really delicious.

Cranberry Orange relish. I know the photo looks dubious, but this is so good. Just pulse up a bag of fresh cranberries, a cut up navel orange (peel and all), 1/2 to 3/4 cup sugar, a teaspoon or two of cinnamon. A cool, bright, tart note to contrast the chicken, excellent for breakfast the next day. I never understood the jellied stuff or a syrupy, candied version that’s been boiled like jam. Contrast the hot with the cool, the cooked with the fresh. It keeps your mouth busy.

Did I say chicken? Yeah, I did. We decided early on to forgo the big bird, in favor of something that would cook in half the time and serve 5 people much more adequately. Chickens are easier: to keep moist, to truss, to carve. I’d love to take on the turkey challenge next year, though. These guys weren’t an afterthought, however. These are Bell and Evans organic chickens, with a spiced butter rubbed under the skin, a Classic Roast Chicken with a bit more glamour. Pies. This is a tradition I just can’t argue with. I did shortcut with refrigerated pie crusts, but I did crimp the edges in a pie plate instead of using a frozen shell. Karen made the pumpkin filling. A little trick for the apple–I cut 4 farmer’s market Granny Smith’s into thin wedges, not chunks, then tossed with 1/2 cup sugar, 1 teaspoon cinnamon, 1/4 teaspoon allspice, 2 tablespoons cornstarch, 11/2 tablespoons lemon juice, and didn’t overfill the crust. Brush the top with an egg white and cut an X on top. This time, no giant gap between crust and apples–just a perfect pie. I made some whipped cream by beating heavy cream with a little sugar. Unnecessary, but wonderful.

So, yes, a lot of cooking, but so much fun and so worth it. Planning, patience, a sharp knife, great people to feed, and a nice red wine to finish the day. Maybe this culinary training is starting to pay off a little?

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Do People Dress Casually Anymore?

Seriously. I consider myself to be pretty low maintenance, my standard weekendware being jeans, sneakers, a t-shirt, and slightly oversized sweater. But when I go out in public, say to the farmer’s market or the library, everyone else is wearing ensembles: leather heeled boots with skinny jeans, cropped pea coats, flimsy yet fashionable scarves. Just to grab some apples and head back home.

I suppose I could fantasize that they were headed to some other occasion afterwards, like “first the farmer’s market, then brunch at the Four Seasons with the in-laws,” or “first the library, then a meet-and-greet with the governor and his wife.” But I really don’t think they are.

My question is, are they comfortable? And who are they dressing for? Or is it me? Is my weekend uniform only suitable for the bedridden? If I tried a little harder, would I be invited to the Four Seasons, balls, and the like? Either way, I don’t think I’d want to go.

What might make this rant a little more relavent to a food blog: the past few years I’ve gotten to tag along with my aunt to a friend’s Thanksgiving in Rhinebeck, NY. We were a happy mix of chic Manhattanites, too cool college students, a few New York Times staffers. The first year, I worried a little that my sweater and slightly worn jeans might not be good enough, only to breathe relief when the host and chef wore a vintage band t-shirt and his artist daughter a pair of oversized panteloons, duct tape tie, and flourescent green cap. Needless to say, it was a great day.

Don’t get me wrong, I love an occasion to look nice. But on a ho-hum Saturday, I’m just aiming for comfort. Join me, won’t you?

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Po-TAY-to, Po-TAH-to

Part of my raison d’etre for cooking is that technique isn’t all that necessary. What I mean is, if you’ve got kind of a handle on what you’re doing and are satisfied with food that tastes great but doesn’t look totally gorgeous, you are in excellent shape. But sometimes, technique does matter. Or at least, a method that takes just a little bit more time and attention can make a HUGE difference.

Example: Oven fries.These were cut to an exact same shape and thickness with a mandolin, soaked in salted water for 30 minutes, tossed with olive oil, and evenly spaced on a parchment-lined baking sheet. These…were not. A mixed bunch of paper thin slices and thick wedges, not soaked, tossed with olive oil and dumped on an unlined baking sheet. The results…Clear. Baked on the bottom rack at 400 for 35 minutes, flipping everything over after 15 minutes, got even crisp all over with a fluffy white center. The unfortunate second batch… impressively bad. Baked at the same time and temp, but on the middle rack and not tossed. I like mine a little crunchy, but these were just burnt. Or rather, a mix of burnt and soggy–that’s what you get when the fries are too thick to let out enough moisture. Cooking is chemistry after all; with just a few little choices along the way you can create the next great cure-all or a big stinkin’ mess.

No reason to be intimidated, though. Absorb a tip here and there, then make y0ur friends think you’re an absolute genius for making fries that turn out so great. And tell them it’s po-tay-to, not po-tah-to.

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Eye of the Fish

Photo by She’s Cookin’

It’s looking at you, taunting you. “You can’t handle me,” it seems to say. “Don’t even try.” 

There’s a reason why the meat and poultry we buy in stores doesn’t look like cows or chickens–we just can’t handle being that close to the original source of our proteins (plus, who has time on a hectic weeknight to defeather a chicken? Who has a meat locker in their basement for 400+ pound steer?). But fish are different. Yes, fillets and steaks are always available, but you’ll find just as many whole creatures staring up at you from that glass case.

Fresher fish are always better, the pinacle being still sort of alive when it arrives. Breaking them down is a challenge: the flesh is incredibly delicate and you’ve got to watch out for pesky pin bones, scales that fly off like confetti, and dorsal fins that are spiny and will poke you while you work (call it a last-ditch defense mechanism). Did I mention they ain’t the prettiest things to look at? 

 

This week in class, I broke down one whole snapper and a whole flounder, for the first time. Brutal puns aside, you really just have to dive in here. Use only the tip of the boning knife to cut around the gills and across the back, then long, sweeping cuts down the length of each side, close to the bone so the fillets come off clean. Flounder have an actual line drawn down their side to guide the knife, as if God knew some poor culinary student would need a little extra help. I can’t say mine were all that pretty, but practice makes perfect.  Snapper en Papillote might be the perfect Cooking for One dish. Cut a giant heart out of parchment paper and brush with butter. Add a medley of veggie strips (I used red pepper, carrot, and fennel). Sit your fillet on the veg, season with salt and pepper, top with lemon slices, fold over your heart and crimp the edges. Bake at 350 for 10-12 minutes. The vegetables steam perfectly in a lemony, fish-infused broth, the fish is tender and moist. I sauteed some asparagus and had one of the more elegant dinners I’ve ever made (I tend to be a dump-it-all, cover in Parmesan kind of cook). Hopefully, with some more practice, I can stare down any fish at the market.  

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