Another Caja China Thanksgiving

I had actually vowed that our next Caja China adventure would be either a whole lamb or a goat, but our plans for Thanksgiving jelled too late for me to arrange for either:

me: I know it's late, but can you tell me if I can get one of the following from you: a) a whole lamb; b) a whole goat; or c) a whole turkey
organic farmer (from whom I buy lamb and goat chops): Well we don't sell lambs, and the goats we have you'd have to come and get live, we can't butcher it for you. I do have some tom heritage turkeys left.
me: (visions of bringing cute pet goat to WV with us in the back of the subaru station wagon together with our portuguese water dog and having to slaughter said cute goat) Er, I'll take whatever turkeys you have left. (no idea what the difference between a tom turkey and a non-tom.)

So I show up at the farmers market last Saturday, and discover that the smallest tom turkey is a 20.9 pounder. The cookbooks say that you should count on 1lb per person, 1.5lb per person if you want leftovers. Our guest list for Thanksgiving looks like 5 adults and two toddlers. But beggars can't be choosers.

And being a faithful Christopher Kimball foodie, I set about brining the turkey the night before. I have a brining bag (an essential tool if you want to brine without depending on the weather outside being cold enough to stick a turkey in brine in a cooler), but the Morton's salt, contrary to its slogan doesn't pour. As I try to maneuver to reach a chopstick to stick in the salt canister, the brining bag loses its balance on the kitchen counter, and about 12 gallons of water go all over the floor, in particular dousing my poor dog who has been sticking close to me in the kitchen hoping that I will drop something tasty.

Break in the action as I go find a rag and bucket to wipe up 12 gallons of salt water off the floor. I decide that I will not bother telling my husband about this since he was out battling other desperate husbands for the last loaf of bread for stuffing at the local supermarket (he had called earlier: "Listen, Panera's closed. The supermarket is about shopped out, but there are three kinds of bread here ... hang on [Hey, that's my bread.] just tell me which one you want.") and he's worried about the tom turkey getting cooked in time anyway.

But when husband comes home he goes to the basement to pick up something and he returns with furrowed brow, muttering something about another leak in the house (we have been plagued by leaks both in WV and in DC--flat roofs on both houses), so I have to confess. Including the fact that that's the reason the dog is sorta damp and he's looking very chastened.

So come Thanksgiving Day, we roll out the Caja China despite forecasts of rain, and heat the coals, tuck the turkey in, and pray that splitting the difference between the directions on the web and the pamphlet which was included in the original box (which I had, of course, left in DC) will somehow work. (Web instructions suggest a turkey takes 3+ hours, the pamphlet suggests that a turkey <20lb>20lb takes 2.5 hours). I shouldn't have worried. There were a couple of very dark spots (where the turkey, being as tall as it was, got closer to the heat source than might have been advisable) but it was the tenderest, moistest, tastiest turkey I've ever cooked. And it was done in 2.75 hours, all 20.9 lb of him.

Other dishes:
Cheese and Onion Pie
Tarte Tatin
Pecan Tassies
Arugula and feta cheese salad
Roasted butternut squash with Moroccan spices
Bacon, sage, and apple stuffing
Mushroom stuffing (vegetarian)

Homemade Apple Sauce

The weekend's weather could not have been more perfect -- blue skies and highs around 60 -- and made for excellent apple picking. We headed north to Ricker Hill Farm in Turner, an orchard specializing in P.Y.O organics -- including Cortland, Macs, Black Oxfords, and Sweet Jane's. Despite a slightly clumsy state, I still managed to pick a bushel and a half that should make for some good seasonal meals. I started last night with a homemade, and super simple, apple sauce to complement a pork loin and eat at will.

4 tbsp orange juice
1 tsp lemon zest
3 lbs mixed variety apples
3 lbs macintosh apples
1/2 cup brown sugar
2 tbsp cinnamon
1 tsp cloves
1 tsp nutmeg
1/2 cup butter

Preheat oven to 350. Toss together orange juice, lemon zest, and apples (peeled, cored, and quartered) and put in dutch oven. Top with brown sugar, spices, and butter. Cover and bake for 75-90 minutes. Whisk together.

It's a sweet apple sauce and when served warm could accompany a pork roast or vanilla ice cream equally well. I tend to like my daily apple sauce unsweetened, but I definitely won't mind tapping into this recipe for an afternoon snack.

Metaphysical Club for Development ... and Turkey Chili

About 2 months ago we started a little "club" at Bill Easterly's urging to get together and stake out new and unexpected directions to take development. Last night we hosted it at our place, which meant I needed to cook something that would not have me leaning over the stove at the last minute--it needed to be all done and ready by the time people showed up. Hence turkey chili, although in fact it got significantly modified both intentionally and unintentionally--but with good results, it seems. People really liked it. This comes from Bon Appetit by way of Epicurious, and my modifications are included. (and I'll try to remember to take pictures next time).

I served it ladled over brown rice.

Ingredients:

1 tablespoon vegetable oil
2 medium onions, chopped
3 cloves garlic chopped
1 jalapeno pepper chopped
1 1/2 teaspoons dried oregano
1 1/2 teaspoons ground cumin
1 1/2 pounds lean ground turkey
1/4 cup chili powder [the unintended substitute was Berbere powder, because I thought I had chili powder, but didn't. I used a tad less than 1/4 c of berbere since it's hotter than chili.]
2 bay leaves
1 tablespoon unsweetened cocoa powder
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 28-ounce can whole tomatoes
2 cups chicken broth
1 8-ounce can tomato sauce
fresh kale, washed and chopped--quantity really depends on how large your pot is. It reduces a lot, but at the beginning you will be limited by the headroom in your pot
3 15-ounce cans small white beans, rinsed, drained

Shredded cheddar

Chopped red onion
Chopped fresh cilantro
Plain low-fat yogurt or light sour cream

preparation

Heat oil in heavy large pot over medium heat. Add onions, garlic, and pepper; sauté until light brown and tender, about 10 minutes. Add oregano and cumin; stir 1 minute. Increase heat to medium-high. Add turkey; stir until no longer pink, breaking up with back of spoon. Stir in chili powder, bay leaves, cocoa powder, salt and cinnamon. Add tomatoes with their juices, breaking up with back of spoon. Mix in stock and tomato sauce. Add washed chopped kale. Bring to boil. Reduce heat; simmer 45 minutes, stirring occasionally.

Add beans to chili and simmer until flavors blend, about 10 minutes longer. Discard bay leaves. (Can be prepared 1 day ahead. Cover and refrigerate. Rewarm over medium-low heat before continuing.)

Ladle chili into bowls over rice. Pass red onion, cheddar, cilantro and yogurt separately.

Serves 8.

Fabulous and Easy Short Ribs

I am a huge short rib fan -- the tender meat and infused flavor never fail to rock my world. Our food friends, Joe and Molly (and their soon to be foodie son, Gabe) were visiting this weekend. Mollly innocently suggested that she had seen a fabulous-looking short rip recipe (with gorgonzola polenta) in the recent Bon Appetit. I was immediately sold. The recipe, it turns out, was super easy, and produced amazing flavor. While the recipe calls for the short ribs to be marinated overnight in the herbs, I didn't have time, and instead chopped the herbs with a tbsp of kosher salt to release their flavor and created a rub. I immediately browned the the herb rubbed short ribs, dumped in a bottle of $10 cabernet, let it boil, and then put it in the oven. I didn't touch it again for two hours. The result was fabulous. I highly recommend. The gorgonzola polenta was good too, not too over powering for the subtle and rich flavor of the meat. I also nixed the sauce -- it turned out too greasey with the fat from the short ribs and the roux. It also tasted too salty and would have overpowered the meat.


8 to 9 pounds meaty beef short ribs
2 tablespoons chopped fresh rosemary
2 tablespoons chopped fresh thyme
1 tablespoon coarse kosher salt
1 tablespoon freshly ground black pepper

1/4 cup (about) vegetable oil
2 750-ml bottles Cabernet Sauvignon
2 tablespoons (1/4 stick) butter, room temperature
2 teaspoons all purpose flour

preparation

Planning tip:
With its various elements, this dish lends itself well to team cooking. Seasoning the meat ahead, making the gremolata, browning the ribs, and deglazing the pan are separate steps that allow everyone to take turns. But if you'd prefer to work ahead, the short ribs will taste just as good a day later. Either way, you're golden.

Arrange ribs in single layer in 15x10x2- inch glass baking dish. Mix rosemary, thyme, salt, and pepper in small bowl; sprinkle all over ribs. Cover and refrigerate overnight. Let stand at room temperature 1 hour before continuing.

Preheat oven to 375°F. Heat 2 tablespoons oil in heavy wide ovenproof pot over medium-high heat. Working in batches, add ribs to pot and cook until browned on all sides, about 8 minutes per batch, adding more oil to pot by tablespoonfuls as needed. Transfer ribs to large bowl. Pour off drippings from pot; discard. Add wine to pot and bring to simmer, scraping up any browned bits. Return ribs and any accumulated juices to pot; bring to boil. Cover; transfer to oven and braise until meat is very tender and almost falling off bones, about 2 hours. DO AHEAD: Can be made 1 day ahead. Chill uncovered until cold, then cover and keep chilled.

Bring to simmer before continuing. Using slotted spoon, transfer ribs to large bowl; cover tightly to keep warm. Skim any fat from top of braising liquid. Boil liquid until reduced to 2 generous cups, about 20 minutes. Mix 2 tablespoons butter and 2 tablespoons flour with fork in small bowl until well blended. Whisk butter mixture into reduced braising liquid. Whisk over medium-high heat until sauce thickens very slightly, about 2 minutes.

Divide Gorgonzola Polenta among plates. Top with ribs and sauce. Makes 8 servings

Gorgonzola Polenta:

5 cups (or more) low-salt chicken broth
1 3/4 cups polenta (coarse cornmeal)*
3/4 cup crumbled Gorgonzola cheese (about 4 ounces)
1/3 cup whipping cream
preparation

Bring 5 cups chicken broth to boil in heavy 4-quart saucepan. Gradually add polenta, whisking constantly. Return mixture to boil. Reduce heat to low, cover, and simmer until polenta is tender, stirring frequently and adding more chicken broth by 1/4 cupfuls if polenta is too thick, about 10 minutes. Remove from heat. Add Gorgonzola and cream; stir until cheese is melted. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

*Sold at some supermarkets and at natural foods stores and Italian markets. If unavailable, substitute an equal amount of regular yellow cornmeal and cook about half as long.

Planning tip:
Polenta sets up quite quickly and becomes firmer after cooking, so plan on making it as close to serving time as you can manage.
Makes 8 servings

Blueberry scones with spelt flour

This is a very belated post on blueberry scones. It comes from Cook's Illustrated--and according to my in-laws, the best ever scones they've had. The tricks involved are freezing the butter and grating it (instead of mixing in cutting in cold butter) before folding into the flour, as well as essentially rolling the blueberries in (like a jelly roll). It also worked well when I substituted spelt flour for half of the flour required. I'd have to transcribe my notes to get this recipe online, but if anyone is interested, I'd be very happy to share ...

Is local food better for you ...?

Swept up by Michael Pollan's oratory about his completely local meal, and the neighborliness of supporting local producers at our farmer's market, I have been steadily narrowing my choices down to fresh local food and feeling good about it. Trust Tyler Cowen to burst that bubble for me with the following post, which explains that depending on how that kohlrabi was conveyed to market, it may or may not have a larger carbon footprint than the organic food from Chile.

Aargh. And now I recognize that the appeal of eating local was as much about solving my paradox of choice than anything else--I like the idea of cooking with what's available, what's cheap, and what's abundant instead of putting together menus from scratch, and that's pretty much all there is to it. It's convenient--because it cuts through the data smog. And perhaps that's all the reason I need for now. That is, until I read the next book on my list, which is Barbara Kingsolver's Animal, Vegetable, Miracle ....

As many people know, Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. It sings to me - a day to give thanks, a holiday that hasn't been corrupted by American consumerism, and a day (and in all honesty, it turns into days for me) of my favorite past time, cooking.

But this post really isn't about Thanksgiving. It's about sour cherries. Or rather, sour cherries is the reason I'm blogging about Thanksgiving in early July.

My first and regular contribution to the Thanksgiving meal started when I was young -- maybe 7 or 8 years old. I was in charge of the cherry pie, which I truly enjoyed constructing because of lattice work. While using canned pie filling (gasp), my mother did teach me a valuable skill having me make my own pastry crust. A skill I pride myself on these days (though I have yet to master Mari's whole wheat crust). As I evolved as a cook (coinciding with a competitive cooking streak between my father and I) and Thanksgiving became hugely gourmet at the Nelson household, the cherry pie went away. It was, afterall, made from a can and you know how I feel about overly starched syrupy fruit.


However, if Mari could obsess about rhubard, I am now obsessing about sour cherries -- and more importantly, access to sour cherries. They should be in season right now (in DC I would be making my blue berry sour cherry jam) and perfect for a real cherry pie, enhanced only by a touch of cinnamon. The cherries can of course be preserved, and stored for Thanksgiving, and I am a little more than excited to reintroduce the cherry pie.

But while cherries may be in season, they probably aren't ever going to make it Maine, and certainly not to our farmer's market. Quick aside on the farmer's market, I've been initially put off from our farmer's market because its lettuce lettuce and more lettuce. I complained about this to someone who said -- "its Maine; lettuce is the only thing in season until August." All the same, I don't think we grow cherries (rhubarb, peaches, pears, and apples.. but no cherries) and anticipating a dearth of my much needed fruit, my obsession is growing.

So.. question for this gang... anyone ever ordered fresh fruit directly from a distributor or whole saler and if so, could you provide me with some direction? If it turns out OK, I will in turn supply you with home made cherry pie filling.