Thanksgiving Tips

I hereby interrupt my discussion on pies for a couple of Thanksgiving Tips for those of you putting on the feast.

1. The Turkey
For a moist turkey, the dry brine method used for chicken has worked for me. Russ Parsons, the food writer I learned this from, has upped the ante in this year's thanksgiving column and is now suggesting grilling the whole turkey after the dry brine is done.  Damn, I miss California.

2. The Turkey, part 2
So, if you're going the traditional route and find yourself reading a recipe that says something like "boil all the giblets except the liver" or "be sure to clean the gristle out of the gizzard" and can't figure out which of the blobby things in the creepy giblet bag is which, here's a picture (not for the squeamish).  This writer also offers a tip on where to find the missing giblets.

3. The Sides
My other favorite food writer, Mark Bittman aka "The Minimalist" has re-run his article on a number of thanksgiving sides that don't compete for oven space.  (Annoyingly the NY Times sometimes requires signing in, but it is free).  His recipe writing style makes everything seem achievable.  If you're trying to lighten up the Thanksgiving fare, he also has an article on raw vegetable sides that are appropriately thanksgivingish.

4. Cooking for a Crowd
There's no doubt this can be a high pressure situation.  I tend to cook thanksgiving dinner in foreign countries or only invite people not born in the U.S. - that way there are less expectations and you can pretty much do what you want and say it's the traditional way of doing things.  If you're not in this fortunate situation, ask people to bring a dish.  Seriously.  While the turkey, stuffing, and gravy can all be an intertwined mess, there's no reason family members and friends can't bring cranberry sauce or any of the other side dishes.  If you don't want the person to cook, have them bring rolls or wine.  Many people feel that if they're hosting they should do everything, but really, do you like showing up to people's homes empty handed?  If you do, it's about time you hosted, so suck it up.

5. Cooking for Vegetarians
A vegetarian friend wrote this article. The basic gist of it is when in doubt, ask the guest about her dietary restrictions to make sure you know what she can or cannot eat.  On the other hand, don't make vegetarianism the topic of the thanksgiving table since no one really wants an inquisition on their diet, especially at the holidays.

6. Cooking for Vegetarians when you've already added animal products to nearly everything
Another friend recently posted this article on pumpkin stuffed with "everything good" and pictures of her first few tries.  While the original recipe is not vegan or even vegetarian, it easily could be and looks very cool.  The idea is this, take a pumpkin or pumpkin shaped squash, cut the top out like you would for a jack-o-lantern, and after seeding it, proceed to stuff it with tasty things like a stuffing, cheese, rice, herbs, whatever, and then bake it till the squash is cooked through.  Gorgeous and plenty of room for creativity.  I've tried it with rice and its works just fine.  If you guest is vegan, you might want to explore cream substitutions like coconut milk or vegetable broth, but I'm sure you'll come up with something tastier than tofurky.

That's it - Happy Thanksgiving to All.

More pies next time.

Pie Crusts (Or, Word to my Mother)

It may surprise you to know that my mom does not like cooking.  In fact, I owe my love of cooking to her hatred of it as much of my time in the kitchen was really a course in survival.  That’s not to say that she doesn’t know her way around the kitchen, but in a world often divided into bakers and cooks, she is most definitely a baker.  Her lemon meringue pie is legendary in the family and came in second in a pie contest in the sixties – though history will judge.  The winner was apparently some pink fluffy strawberry nonsense that was in vogue at the time.  People in the know still make special requests for the lemon meringue – sometimes months in advance.

Part of what makes my mother’s pies so special is the flakey crust that cannot be bought in the freezer section of the grocery store.  In fact, right before I moved out of the house, I made sure that she taught me how to properly make a pie crust.  It turns out that it’s not so much the particular ingredients or ratios, but how you handle it.  Unlike bread, which is lovingly kneaded, pie crust is best treated coldly and gingerly – it’s apparently the frigid b*tch of the baking world.

Let’s look at the ingredients:

Flour

All-purpose flour is just fine.  If you decide you want a whole wheat pie crust, it will be a bit more difficult to work with, so either use a mix of whole wheat and all-purpose, or as long as you are buying whole wheat flour, get whole wheat pastry flour (just don’t try to make bread with this as there is not enough gluten to hold the gas required for the bread to rise).

Fat

Pie crust is full of fat.  Get over it.  Once you have, you need to decide what solid state fat works best for you.  Here are your options:

Lard

Lard is the most traditional.  The obvious disadvantage is that it is not nice to serve pies made with lard to vegetarians or persons with other ethical issues with pigs.  It can also have a slightly noticeable piggy-taste (unless you use the fancier leaf lard), which you might not want with a sweet pie.  The huge advantage is that lard flakes like nothing else, so if you’re a mediocre pie-crust maker like me, your crust turns out better.  Also, lard is arguably healthier than butter and Crisco based on the fat profile.   Finally, lard is cheap, though if you bought it from a non-refrigerated section of the store, it was hydrogenated, making it less healthy.

Butter

Nothing beats butter when it comes to flavor.  Unfortunately, as butter is only about 80% fat rather than 100%, it doesn’t flake quite as beautifully.  (In theory, you should use 20% more butter if you change the recipe below to an all butter recipe and reduce the liquid slightly, but I generally use a combo of butter and lard and make few adjustments.) Butter’s fat content is not particularly good for you, but at least there’s a bit of vitamin A and protein in there too. 

Vegetable Shortening

Crisco is not, strictly speaking, food, so I generally avoid it.  My mother, on the other hand, has made beautiful pie crusts for years with it and it’s easy to store. I did try a substitute for it I found in a health food, Spectrum Organic Shortening, which worked okay despite its seemingly unstable consistency and have heard that coconut oil, with its similar consistency will work well too.  Both of these options are a bit pricier, particularly the coconut oil.

Beyond that is the water and the salt, and sugar or spices if you like.

Process

Here’s a basic recipe, though I've seen variations in the ratio that work fine too: 

2 cups flour

¾ cup fat (a couple more tablespoons if butter) cut up into little chunks

5 tablespoons cold water

½-1 tsp salt depending on taste and if you only have salted butter around

Optional – tablespoon of sugar, bit of cinnamon or the like

Your ingredients, particularly the fat and water, should be cold.  After cutting up the fat and measuring out the flour and salt, I usually throw this all in a bowl (make sure to evenly sprinkle the salt) and put the whole thing in the fridge for a few minutes.

(Cut up fat looking strangely like hard-boiled egg)

  

With a pastry knife cut the flour and salt into the fat until it resembles crumbs. This takes a bit of work to get it evenly combined, but do not overwork the dough.  I usually err on the side of unevenly combined. If I had a food processor, I might use it, but I don’t .

(Almost crummy enough)

Now pull your five tablespoons of water out of the fridge or freezer (unless it’s cold out; then water from the faucet may be just fine).  Gradually work this into the dough so the dough holds together in a ball.  Now, in theory, you should add one tablespoon at a time while continuing to barely work the dough.  In practice, I find this to be an exercise in frustration.  Around the fifth tablespoon is where I start to panic as the dough does not seem to want to hold together.  Time to break into the vodka.  Seriously.

Hopefully you have a bottle of vodka in your freezer ready for moments like this when a martini is necessary.  More practically though, the latest tip I’ve seen floating around the interwebs is that if you need to add more liquid, a strong flavorless alcohol like vodka will pretty much bake off in the oven so you can add a bit more liquid to make the dough easier to work with. 

Given my history with pie crusts, I usually leave out a tablespoon of the water and add two more of vodka to give me a bit more liquid to hold the dough together.  Works like a charm.

Once you’ve got a ball of dough, break it in two.  Flatten a bit and wrap each in plastic.  (Unless I’m making a pie with a crust top or two pies, I generally throw one crust directly in the freezer.)  An hour (at least, a day or so is fine) later, you’re ready to roll.

With your frigerated  (yes, that’s a word) dough and rolling pin in hand, flour your work surface (the counter) and rolling pin, and roll out a misshapen circle that will fit in your pie plate.  The trick is to do this in as few rolls with the rolling pin as possible, which is why your circle is likely to be misshapen.  Better misshapen than worked to death.   Then, place the dough in the pie plate and take the misshapen edges  and fold or press them into a fancy or “rustic” design of choice.  

(Crust gently laid on plate before pushing it down and folding up the edges)

If you are putting a crust top on, leave the bottom edges floppy, put your filling in, followed by the top crust, and then smush the two layers of crust together around the edge to seal it.  Be sure to cut a vent in the top or get ready to clean your oven.

So that’s it, you’ve got a pie crust.  You're usually baking this filled in a medium oven (325-350F) for around 40 minutes, but that depends on what's in there. 

Next up – things to do with pie crusts like meat pies and quiches.  

(A finished product)

Simple Pureed Soups

While some may liken pureed soups to eating watered down baby food, I find them to be one of the best ways to showcase the flavors of a vegetable and make sure I'm getting my 5 a day.

The process for all of them is simple and they allow for some experimentation with seasoning.  While it's true, that unless you consider an entire loaf of bread to be the appropriate accompaniment, these soups won't exactly fill you up.  They are, however, perfect starts to supper or a nice way to update that all time comfort meal of tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich.

Case in point - broccoli and cauliflower soup with cheese and bacon sandwiches:

The Process

All pureed soups are pretty much the same thing: vegetables cooked and pureed with vegetable or chicken stock.

I generally follow this formula:  Saute some chopped onions in butter or olive oil in a soup pan.  Add a clove of chopped garlic and whatever vegetable I will be featuring.  Saute a bit longer then pour in enough stock to cover what's in the pan.  Cook until the veggies are just about mushy.

Put in blender (may need to do this in batches if you have a lot) with any other seasonings you might decide to add.  When blending hot liquid, I usually cover the lid of the lid of the blender down with a folded towel as some of it will try to escape.  Pour back into your soup pan.  Voila.  Soup.  If you think it should be a cream-based soup, add some cream now.  Put it into bowls and add some garnish if you're fancy.

Here are some combinations I've used:

Broccoli & Cauliflower

Onion, garlic, chicken stock and nothing else.  Or, cheddar cheese is also nice with broccoli - melt it some shredded cheese after you blend or just garnish with it.

Carrots 

Besides the onion, garlic, and stock, ginger (in the picture above), cumin, or cilantro (lots of it), are good additions.

Squash 

While most people think of butternut squash, I find the buttercup, kabocha, turban and other varieties that resemble a pumpkin on crack to be the sweeter varieties.  Since I hate peeling winter squash, I usually toss these whole in the oven and bake on high-ish heat for a about an hour, or until they are soft (check that a fork easily goes in). When it's done, I chop it in half and scoop out the seed slop.  Not only is this easier, but roasted veggies tend to have richer flavor.  With some of squashes I add no other seasonings except the onions and broth.  Otherwise, cooked sweet red pepper is nice as coconut milk and some curry spice.

Today I got a bit more adventurous having seen a recent rerun of a River Cottage episode:  After baking the squash, I sauteed some onion, garlic, ginger, and serrano pepper in coconut oil and added to the blender with the squash, chicken stock, and spoonful of peanut butter.  Then I garnished it with chili sauce, yogurt and cilantro.  Pretty close to the original with some modifications based on what I had in hand.

Celeriac
Celery-who?  Some of this plant arrived in my veg box scheme and after figuring out what it was, one of the things I made with it was a soup.  My formula for this one turned out to be celeriac, onion, garlic, ginger powder (I would have used fresh but didn’t have it), a dash of salt, and pears.  Yes pears.  After sautéing onion, a smashed garlic clove and cubed celeriac, I poured enough chicken broth in the pan to cover.  Then I peeled, cored, and sliced some pears and tossed them in the pan.  Twenty minutes later, it all went into the blender.  It came out velvety and delicious.

Possible substitutions – an apple could be swapped in for the pears or parsnip or turnip for the celeriac.  It’s all good.

Basically, it's all just a simple formula for some good kitchen experimentation.

Box Schemes

As I’ve mentioned before, we get a weekly box of produce, most of which comes from local farms. When I lived in Cali, I didn’t bother because there were farmers’ markets everywhere year round. In London, the markets here aren’t as prolific or convenient to me, so I looked into the box scheme. 

Here they are usually referred to as “veg box schemes” which is one of few phrases that beats what we say at home: “CSA boxes.”  CSA stands for “community supported agriculture” which has the dual advantage of sounding unduly self-righteous and having an acronym that only the initiated know, thus virtually guaranteeing that such boxes will never become widely accepted despite all their advantages.

Turns out, in spite of California’s crunchy reputation, the UK is way ahead in its box schemes. After searching online for a box to come to my house, I found I had a choice of at least 5 different companies that would deliver to my area. Also, since it’s hardly ever warm enough for anything here to wilt, they can deliver the box in the morning and it doesn’t matter when I get home – the food is still fine.  For those things that could go bad, they’ve come up with some innovative packing materials involving wool and who knows what else that keep my precious produce perky. They’ll also deliver meat, dairy, pretty much anything.

 

This is a far cry from the scheme some of my LA co-workers participated in for a time.  When the farm was experiencing “growing pains” my co-workers were subject to bags of wilted produce that included things like nettles and other items intended for witches’ cauldrons.  Though to be fair, these schemes have grown quite a bit in the last couple of years and LA is no exception.  Check out a recent list here if you’re there.

So what are the advantages?  Back to the self-righteous bit, which is actually kind of neat. By purchasing produce from such a company, the large supermarket giants are cut out. This means more money goes directly to the farmer, keeping smaller farms in business, and the food is local (here in the UK they do supplement with foreign food or we’d all starve in the month of May, but they try to cut down on food miles even with these imports).

And speaking of food miles, I find it baffling that me being lazy (having food brought to my door) is actually good for the environment (food isn’t trucked all over before maybe finding a home). Unfortunately, doorstep delivery is not an option with all programs, particularly in sprawly places like LA, but the food miles are still trimmed without the middle-man.

The more satisfying advantage I’ve found, however, is relearning the connection to the seasons and the place.  Growing up in California, part of the reason I so enjoyed the farmers’ market is sometimes, the produce in the market was the only sign as to what season it was. Diet should change with the seasons. Just as we turn our ovens on in the winter and our grills on in the summer, the food we eat should change too.

Now that I'm London, having the box delivered has forced me to try some of those root vegetables (swede, parsnips) and summer berries (gooseberries, currants) that I had never seen before.  It’s a way of getting to know this place.

Finally, there’s the adventure. If you find yourself cooking the same things over and over, that will change if you join one of these schemes. In fact, sometimes I have trouble identifying what arrived (celeriac?) which adds to the fun.  Most delivery companies are well aware of this and tend to provide preparation tips, suggestions, and recipes. Your cooking will grow.  You will eat your veggies.  When all else fails, make soup.

Are there downsides?  Sure.  I get tired of cabbage.  But then I get tired of running too and apparently that’s good for me.

Here are some links to help with the search:

This site will help you find your local (UK) scheme and has recipes for the things that arrive.

This site will help you find what’s local in the US and has other fun info such as farms you can visit.

A mini fruit & veg box: spinach, squash, onions, potatoes, plums, pears, carrots, and apples.

Next up - some simple soups to use up those veggies.