Tag: recipes

The turkey treatment Part One

April 2nd, 2024

2 April Tuesday

The whole house is filled with the wonderful scent of turkey stock bubbling away on the stovetop. It started like this:

Now, this is not the turkey we are eating. But it is an actual photo of an actual turkey I snapped on Easter morning. It was gobbling away, making all kinds of noises, one of which almost sounded like Burn in hell! Burn in hell! Which made me feel a little guilty.

There he is, Tom Turkey.

There she is, the crockpot, stocked with vegetables that will be the stock. The whole object of the next hour or so will be to get the two together. This will be an epic turkey stock because all all all of the bones are going in.

Now I know we’ve all been having a really good time, reading the blog, hot cross buns and that, but this is surgery folks. This is, this is, sharp knives and stuff. The first incision. Cutting the breast meat off the bone all the way down, freeing the central cavity. In all my research, there have been two prevailing methods of butchery. The first, and more common, is cutting the back out first and shaving the meat off the breast bone from the bottom. However, I took the road less traveled by and removed the breasts from the top of the bird, which seemed a better way of keeping the meat in one piece. I don’t know if it actually makes a big difference, although I will say this operation was easier than I thought it would be. It’s the damn legs that are so annoying. Later.

There, see the breast cavity has been entirely removed and is now nestled amongst the vegetables in the stock pot.

Pop! Go the thigh bones. Almost there. I spared us all the photos of leg bone removal as they were most unbecoming as Mary Poppins would say. For some reason, I have been thinking about Mary Poppins all day. She doin ok?

Of course, at the base of the legs were the dreaded tendons. They were really annoying and stubborn. I guess that’s why they’re there. Anyway, I musta pulled out a dozen.

The fully boned, seasoned turkey meat. I wrapped him in plastic and covered with foil, where he will rest. This was not a difficult process, I didn’t hurt myself, and all is well. It took a little time, sure, about fifty minutes, but I am happy with the results. After a nice rest in the fridge, I will pull it out, spread a stuffing in the center, roll it up, tie it up, wrap it in buttered cheese cloth, and bob’s your uncle.
Goodnight, moon

March 30th, 2024

29 March Friday

A first request! The question is this: Why are hot cross buns, a sweet treat served on a day and in a season wherein sweet treats are renounced, served? Pictured above is one of the last hot cross buns of the season; friends have begun to pat their tummies and say no thank you. Here is an answer:

Hot Cross Buns were originally baked by a monk somewhere (St. Alban’s) and given to the poor on Good Friday. Then, as now, these buns are somewhat expensive to make, with milk, eggs, butter, spices, and dried fruit. It was an act of charity from those who had much to those who had little. Sweets were not made with sugar back then (1300’s) so many things were sweetened with only raisins and honey. Tooth rotting, Diabetes inducing, hyper-active, manic, sugar foods were not as common back in those primitive days, apparently.

Next, the Lenten fast was traditionally a communal one, and one that involved meat. People gave up meat together, as prescribed by Mother Church. Individually customized fasts were not common or even expected. It turns out, people that already have too much are ok with giving things up for a few weeks. Whereas, if you are involuntarily giving things up all the time as a way of life, doing it intentionally seems unnecessary, even ill-advised. The idea of people giving up alcohol and/or sweets as personal sacrifices for Lent is a very modern one, and non-hot cross bun inclusive.

After the big service, many broke their Good Friday fast with a hot cross bun, and I, having done that today, could not recommend it more. More sweet, more savory, more wholesome than any one before it. By the way, buns were also served to the ill and infirmed as they were believed to have medicinal properties.

Some people believe that if you bake the buns on Good Friday and hang one in the hallway by a thread, nothing bad will ever happen. I haven’t tried it because I think it’s a bunch of bullshit.

Next. Hit’em up a tune they call turkey in the fridge. I am getting excited for the big day, which in this case, is Wednesday. Not enough parties happen on Wednesday in my opinion. Monday and Tuesday, sure, we need to rest and recoup, but by Wednesday one’s weekend has begun. This is going to be a party if it all works out. A real big step up for me, cooking wise speaking.

I’ve been watching tutorials, reading, practicing on imaginary birds. It’s like performing surgery on a patient that has already thankfully died. It is the project. It is the cooking. I will rejoice. I will breathe deeply as my fingers work their way through raw meat, tendons, skin, and bones in this dissection exercise reminiscent of high school biology class. I think that this will all happen on Tuesday, so that the day of can just be the fun part of cooking and setting the table. Yes, I am going to set the table for the first time in 2024. I don’t mean my little kitchen table, I mean the grand dining room table. The one I got for thirty-nine dollars at the thrift store and wheeled down Mission Street on a dollie. As my friend and I were crossing the street, someone yelled my name from a car window. I turned to wave at them, and the table fell off the dollie just as the light was changing. Well, you can imagine what ensued! Horns honking, people screaming colorful phrases and suggestions, we trying to upright the table, it was great. Just another day on Mission Street. So yeah, that table.

It turns out, serving turkey on Easter is not that uncommon. It appears to be a thing in Canada. And yes, there will be cranberry sauce!! And yes, there will be gravy, and instead of mashed potatoes, colcannon. OK, I’m getting ahead of myself, and there appears to be another me ahead of him, so I better slow down a second. More to come.
Worthy

March 26th, 2024

25 March Monday

A double rainbow. The most brilliant I’ve ever seen. Right from my back porch. Many saw but few believed. I almost think there was a third rainbow below the strong middle one. Is there something springing in the heart? Something that says despite all other reasons, everything is going to be OK? Or even wonderful? Isn’t everything still wonderful after all?

The beautiful Irish Stew. Oh, the glories of the New Year! Spring here, slowly, day by day. A day of warm, a day of cold, a dry day, a wet one. You know, it’s all like that. Northern California looks like Wales this time of year; deep green verdant hillsides fresh for grazing. How amazing.

Sunday is Easter Day, and I am not hosting. I like to make a party during Easter week, maybe Wednesday, maybe Friday, who knows? I do think I’m going to cook something unusual for my gathering- turkey. I bought one at the end of the holidays and put it in the freezer. Discount meat!! Well, now I’m gonna pull that baby right of its freezer tomb and bring it back to life just in time to cook and eat it! Worthy is the turkey. I will do it the same way as on Thanksgiving but maybe go one step further. I am going to remove all the bones and do a turkey roulade. oh yes! I can’t wait. Wait, wait, wait, is it a roulade, a galantine, rolled turkey? (aren’t roulade and rolled the same?) Yes, they are basically. One has a French name.

I am definitely not doing a galantine. I have to put all sorts of veal and chestnuts and cognac and other tidbits I’d have to go all over earth to assemble. And the cost. No, not this time. I will defrost my bird, carefully remove its big bones, and roll it up with something reasonable, like nuts and spinach. Everyone loves nuts and spinach. Speaking of people loving things, I’ve made a number of delightful dishes for myself and friends. I made a good baked Ziti with pesto and cauliflower. A nice salad with arugula, raisins, pumpkin seeds, ya know. My local grocery has begun carrying Banh Mi, which could be dangerous. For those of you that don’t know or only half know, Banh Mi is a Vietnamese baguette, except it’s lighter and airier and delicious (more delicious). It is perfect for sandwiches of all kinds and sorts and stripes, not the least being a perfect vehicle for the breakfast sandwich.

Why? Regular baguettes, like bagels, are terrible mouth delivery systems for egg sandwiches. The soft, fluffy eggs are squeezed out of end of the bread when the cuspids tear through the tough chewy crust. It’s like when we all go to France and are walking around and the only thing to get is a tuna salad baguette or a baguette Capresi. You go to eat the damn thing, and you end up with a lump of tuna salad on your lap, a large leaf of Bibb lettuce hanging out of your mouth, and your jaw getting the workout of a lifetime. Wait, did that happen in France? Maybe, maybe not. But it was definitely outside, and there was a sandwich paper on my lap, and it was blowing away in a chilly sea wind. So, I must have been near the sea. This has happened to me many times throughout my life. Eating things off your lap outdoors is not a great experience come to think of it. And the pigeons!

Many think Banh Mi is the name of the sandwich, but it is the name of the roll, so you can put anything inside it, and tell people you ate Banh Mi for lunch. Try it soon and let me know the reaction you get from friends! My Banh Mi was a breakfast one. Scrambled eggs, Gorgonzola, Ham, arugula. Wonderful. I prefer these sandwiches without any kind of sauce on them, be it ketchup or a spicy mayonnaise, or aioli or whatever. Too much gloop and flavor confusion. I hate flavor confusion. I wrapped the whole thing in foil (important!) and brought it all together in the toaster oven. Hip hip hooray. OK, enough, more to come. I think there may be another batch of Hot Cross Buns in the near future, and probably more candied citrus peel before the season is over. Citrus still local, still cheap(er).

Yes, friends, we are all worthy to be here, and you can eat whatever you want whenever you want unless you have terrible health problems, then maybe don’t. Or do! We only live once that any of us can remember, and if we don’t eat the turkey now, we may not be able to later especially if you’ve left your teeth in a baguette sandwich. Don’t kill yourself trying to take care of yourself when you could live, really live, not taking care of yourself. Anyway. Nap time?
Signs of life

March 18th, 2024

18 March Monday

One of the most looked forward to of foodstuffs, Irish Soda Bread. If ever I were to teach baking, I would begin with Irish Soda Bread. It may be the single easiest recipe in the world. And the effect it has on people! It is thick, dense, sturdy, slightly tangy, craggy, chewy. It is amazing dipped in the drippings, makes great toast, amazing grilled sandwiches. Every time I make and eat it, I wonder why I don’t make it more frequently. Then I forget about it till next year.

The soda bread made a wonderful bed fellow of Irish Stew; a warm duvet sopping up the au jus of melted lamb shoulder, potatoes, carrots, onions, and thyme. A little dinner conversation revealed that I’d used a recipe which had the ingredients stacked in a specific order, the liquid added without disturbing the order of the contents. It is never stirred, or indeed disturbed in anyway. So, is it a stew or a braise? I think technically a braise. The liquid added (water!) didn’t reach an inch of the way up the pan. It was the low, slow cooking, the meat giving its essence, the vegetables releasing their water. Heavenly. It braised on Saturday night, I left it in the turned off oven overnight, and when I got home from work on Sunday, turned the oven back on for another hour until it was piping, gently bubbly hot. Supremo.

Both of these foods seem in every way to be authentic. The stew tastes only of its components, there are no flavor surprises. We taste the lamb, and each vegetable holds on to its own flavor. Which is surprising. Things that are so simple, guests nod and their eyebrows go up (both of them, at the same time) when you tell them what isn’t in it.

Another batch of hot cross buns, with raisins, currants, homemade candied citrus peel, allspice, cinnamon, glazed with well, glaze. You can clearly see I am not so into the cross. It’s actually a nice looking design-a pastry intended to remind one of public execution. Kinda fun. At the same time, it is exactly the correct amount of icing these buns need. Thank you, Jesus.

Finally, on my morning walk, I beheld them. Local, fresh from the farm, standing tall and proud-the might Californian Asparagus. The asparagi of other places are thin and tender, but these west coast babies are the Sequoias of the vegetable world. That means spring onions, green garlic, salmon, chicken, lamb, and other springy things are springing into spring. Everywhere I look, signs of life.
Everything is food

January 9th, 2024

9 January 2024 Tuesday

And like that, the holidays commence, reign, and end. I put the decorations away today, having gotten back from my whirlwind tour of the Northeast, specifically Cleveland, Akron, and New York City. It was a wonderful time. And food.

Most of the cooking was done for me in Ohio, a real treat of ham, salmon, roast pork, sauerkraut (for New Years) and a great upside chocolate orange cake for my birthday.

Here’s a photo of Brandywine Falls. A well-earned picture considering I slipped in the mud right on my butt about seven times before I took it.

A time to slow down, a time to be at peace. Everything, in fact, felt peaceful this trip, including NYC, even Times Square seemed to be moving slowly, hoping that Christmas will never end. Indeed, when I left the city on the morning of 8 January, the city was still fully decked out in boughs of holly and etc.

While in New York, I stayed with a dear friend and her family in Brooklyn. She hosts a cookbook club that meets once a month, and for January I was invited to cook a dish or two from one of the nominated cookbooks. The featured book this month was Craig Claiborne’s Herb and Spice Cookbook from 1963. The book is divided by the featured herb and/or spice, and by some strange coincidence, some divine providence, a number of us were drawn to the fennel chapter.

Perhaps, after all that Christmas feasting and cookies and candies, we were craving a palate cleanse, something earthy and sweet, yet fresh and digestive. Fennel it is.

Remember Popeye the Movie? There was a song, Everything is food. It has a weird lyric that I can’t exactly remember, but I sing it every time I make a recipe like Claiborne’s Fennel Flavored Spaghetti Sauce. Yes, there was a lot of fennel in it and everyone tasted it, but the chief ingredient was meat. Meat meat meat meat meat meat. I felt like my skin smelled of cooked meat afterwords. It still might.

First, none of the above listed meats was used in my Fennel sauce. But it did have lots of meat in it. My friend and I went to the meat district of her neighborhood and stood on line (New York!!) for forty five minutes in order to purchase the most beautiful ground lamb, ground pork, ground beef, sweet Italian sausages, hot Italian sausages I’ve ever seen.

These recipes from the early 1960s show America at its most devil-may-care when it comes to food and ingredients. This dish, supposedly Fennel forward is most note worthy because of its flagrant, wanton use of dead animals. Lots of animal meat. It was heavenly, especially I imagine for the dead livestock. Everything is meat, meat, meat. Everything is food and chow. Everything is food. We enjoyed seconds for breakfast the next day.

If music be the food of love, play on. I went to New York to see a couple of shows, Here We Are and Merrily We Roll Along, both with music and lyrics by Stephen Sondheim. I wouldn’t mention this in my food and cooking writing, expect to say this was a cathartic experience in my life. Like the greatest meal I’ve ever had, but I had it with my ears and eyes. Thank you, Sondheim for giving us more to see.

BTW, I am moving away from photographing the food itself in favor of using photos of the environment I was in that inspired the food. Pictures of food are horrible, and I hate them. End of sermon.