The napkins and tablecloth have been washed and pressed, the tableware washed and dried and put away, the wine bottles drained and tossed. Only the vase of flowers, arranged by one of the guests, remains. That, and a lot of turkey in the refrigerator.

A lot of turnkey. We ate most of the white meat, amazingly, but the wings and legs went untouched. Next time, I’ll add the drumsticks to the back and neck to make the broth (it will be richer and darker that way). I’ll also buy a smaller bird. But I don’t think that I’ll ever roast turkey again. Browning the meat and then braising it (for about two hours) produces a succulent treat, moist and springy but fully cooked. Gravy made from the braising liquid intensifies the flavors.

Browning the very large pieces of turkey made a dreadful mess of the stove, and all the pots and pans hanging on the pegboard around it, as well as the utensils in their pitchers, will have to be washed. We had to open the windows and set the front door ajar, just to clear the air of aerosols. Otherwise, the cooking was straightforward. I made sweet potatoes the way I do every day, steaming them in cubes and then running them through a ricer, and adding a bit of cream and maple syrup to the purée. I boiled the baby Brussels sprouts for about six minutes, and then reheated them later in a pot in which I’d browned two slices of bacon, diced. The dressing baked alongside the turkey, and it was fine. I thought that I had plenty of food, in case the O’Neill family joined us, but, turkey aside, this turned out not to be the case. The six of us gobbled up all of potatoes and the sprouts, and there wasn’t much dressing, either. I still have a bit of mushroom soup, and plenty of gravy. But there was nothing left of Ray Soleil’s scrumptious chocolate mousse. Three bottles of wine were emptied, along with at least two of champage.

It was delicious, everyone insisted; I couldn’t tell. I didn’t have much of an appetite by dinnertime — I rarely do after a long spell of cooking. But I had a very good time. I went straight to bed when everyone left, and didn’t think of cleaning up until this morning. The stove is still a fright, but I didn’t mind seeing to the rest. I managed not to grumble too loudly when the old Black & Decker iron refused to heat up (it had been dropped recently); I ran over to Basics Plus and bought a Rowenta model with a retractable cord. All cords ought to be retractable.

It has been a long time since I’ve used “the best stuff,” our fine wedding china, my mother’s crystal goblets, my mother-in-law’s sterling and linens. I had got into a bad habit of regarding use of the finery as stressful and imposing — just as I’d been running away from Thanksgiving dinner. The substitution of fricasee for roast appears to have reconciled me to both the fancy crockery and the holiday, which, after all, were meant for each other. Having put the turkey’s flavor ahead of its presentation (the dinner was completely plated in the kitchen), I found it easy to observe all the other pieties of the day.  

Drop me a line at rjk@dailyblague.com
This entry was posted on Friday, November 23rd, 2012 at 5:10 pm.