I used to make this from scratch, but it’s a waste of time. Those cranberry people know what they’re doing. You can thin canned whole cranberry sauce with orange, lemon, or apple juice. You can add chopped candied ginger, ground cinnamon, or grated orange or lemon peel, or mix it well with one-half cup good- quality orange marmalade. The possibilities are endless, and you ought to experiment. When I was young and new to the rigors of preparing this meal, I was enamored of the process of cooking the fresh berries and watching the sauce thicken. My children, however, were intensely skeptical of any cranberry preparation on which they couldn’t detect the telltale lines of the can. All you really need to do is buy and refrigerate two 16-ounce cans of cranberry jelly and two 16-ounce cans of
whole cranberry sauce. On Thanksgiving morning, using a small spoon, scoop the cranberry jelly by spoonfuls into a shallow serving dish, leaving the can lined with a shell of the jelly that would betray the indentations of the can. garnish with lemon slices and refrigerate until just before serving. At the same time remove the whole cranberry sauce from the can and thin it with juice or stir in any spices or flavorings that appeal to you. Mound it in a shallow dish and garnish with orange slices or cinnamon sticks or thin strips of orange or lemon peel. Refrigerate it, too, until just before serving. In case you are determined to make your own sauce, here is a basic recipe to which you can add any or all of the follow- ing: chopped candied ginger; ground cinnamon, ground cloves, and allspice; grated orange and lemon peel. Or serve as is. 4 cups fresh cranberries 1 cup water 2 cups (or less) sugar 1â „4 teaspoon salt EQUIPMENT - Saucepan
1. Place the cranberries in
a saucepan with the water. Cover and bring to a boil. Cook until the skins burst, 6 to 8 minutes.
2. Remove from the heat
and add the sugar and salt. Stir thor- oughly, cool, and chill.
There’s an awful lot of passion and time wasted on debating the nature of a real crab cake, but I’ve never met anyone who doesn’t like them—either their own absolutely essential and correct version or someone else’s counterfeit variety. I’m including the recipe I prefer, which may enrage anyone from Maryland. When our children lived too far away to come home for the holidays, these crab cakes were an easy and delicious replacement for our traditional Thanksgiving dinner, and depending on how many people are coming to our house for Thanksgiving I sometimes serve these as a first course, although on those occasions I pare the meal down a bit otherwise, because these are surprisingly filling. I order jumbo lump crab meat from The Crab Place, in Crisfield, Maryland (crabplace.com), and it is so beautifully hand-picked that there is no need to look for bits of shell; you can use it immediately out of its container. I love the flavor of crab, and the only seasoning I use is minced bell pepper and minced parsley; but if you prefer the Maryland version you may as well use the recipe on the back of the Old Bay season- ing can. It’s good, although in my opinion it’s a waste of very expensive and delicately flavored crab, but I’ll admit to cherishing my own Louisiana recipes and seasonings for gumbo and Jambalaya, and I’ve never found or been served a satisfactory version elsewhere. Certainly in the case of regional cuisine
the familiar maxim holds true: Degustibusnonest disputan dum—About taste there can be no argument. 3 pounds jumbo lump crab meat ordered from The Crab Place (crabplace.com) to arrive the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, or two days before you intend to serve the crab cakes 3 eggs, beaten with:
1 cup mayonnaise
11/2 to 2 cups panko crumbs (or crushed saltines--about 30) 1 seeded green bell pepper 1 seeded red bell pepper 1 bunch washed and dried curly parsley EQUIPMENT - Food processor - Colander - Broiler pan
- Skillet - Mixing bowl
1. Dice and then chop together the peppers and parsley by
hand or in a food processor, pulsing so that you get an evenly minced texture.
2. In a covered skillet sweat the minced vegetables in 2
tablespoons butter or oil until they are limp and wilted. Allow to cool and then mix into the beaten eggs approximately 6 tablespoons of the minced vegetables. If you have vegetables remaining, spoon them onto a piece of aluminum foil, fold the foil into a sealed packet, and freeze for future use.
3. Handling the beautiful lump crab meat as little as possi-
ble, drain it in a colander and transfer to a large, wide mixing bowl, spreading and loosening the packed crab evenly, and as gently as possible in order not to break the lumps into smaller pieces.
4. Pour the egg and vegetable mxture over the crab and,
using your hands, distribute as evenly as possible throughout the crab meat, lifting and turning as gently as possible.
5. Slowly begin adding the panko crumbs, starting with one
cup sprinkled and folded by hand into the crab. Add as much as you need but not so much that the texture becomes sticky. Allow the mixture to sit for 1/2 hour so the panko crumbs absorb the liquid and thicken. You will be placing these directly on a broiler pan and cooking them only on one side, so they will not have to be flipped, which makes forming the crab cakes much less worrisome. You should have twelve loosely held together crab cakes, slightly mounded--they will not hold the hockey-puck shape we’re used to being served in restaurants unless they have too much bread. What these lack in beauty, however, they more than make up for in flavor.
6. Place them on a greased or buttered shallow-sided pan--I
use a broiler pan--and refrigerate uncovered for several hours. Remove them from the refrigerator about 30 minutes before cooking and brush the tops or drizzle with melted butter. To Broil: Place the oven rack about four to six inches from the broiler and preheat the over to 500°F on Bake so that the entire oven is hot, before you change the setting to Broil. Allow the broiler to heat for another five minutes. If the crab cakes have exuded liquid or wept, just use a paper towel to absorb what you can--it’s an easier solution than moving them unbroken to another pan. Broil the crab cakes for about 12 to 15 minutes, moving the pan to a lower rack if the tops begin to brown too quickly. To Serve: I put a half lemon on each plate, because the crab cakes ar e delicious with nothing more than lemon juice. But I decorate the plates with a lattice of Balsamic reduction (or syrup), which youcan make yourself or buy online from any number of sites if your store doesn’t carry it. Add two crab cakes per person for an entree, and serve with Wasabi mayonnaise. These are also wonderful with nothing more than tartar sauce.
21/2 pounds russet potatos (I happen to think russet potatoes, which are usually baked, are also superior to any other variety when they are mashed). If you have the oven space at Thanksgiving, these are easily made simply by baking, quartering, and mashing using a heavy-duty stand mixer and adding the cream and butter while the beaters are going. 1/2 pint heavy cream, plus a little more in case the potatoes are dry 4 tablespoons butter EQUIPMENT - Large saucepan or stockpot - Stand mixer
1. In a deep pot, boil the scrubbed potatoes about 30
minutes or until they are tender. If possible I set them on a baking pan in a heated oven for about 5 minutes just to dry them, but they are fine without that step.
2. Do not peel them! The peel will break up in the mixer,
and it adds a delicious taste and texture to the dish. Slice them lengthwise and then in half and add to mixer bowl. As you run the mixer add the butter and cream, and beat to the texture you want--as little as possible--I do them in two batches, and it takes less than three minutes for them to reach the consistency I’m looking for.
3. Season with salt and pepper and put them in a serving bowl. If oyu have too much last-minute preparation these can be made and left at room temperature for as long as four hours and reheated in the microwave just before serving, and although I should tell you that they are always better served immediately, the truth is that I really can’t tell the difference.
When you first attempt to cook a turkey, even though you aren’t going to be dealing with stuffing and skewering it, you won’t believe that it is the easiest part of dinner. Facing an uncooked turkey for the first time is sort of like being told you have to read The Sound and the Fury and then discuss the book in all its complexity the very next day. Just remember that you’re really only dealing with Gone with the Wind—an easy read—and not William Faulkner.
The cornbread dressing is much better packed into a casserole, basted with the turkey juices, and then baked after the turkey has been removed from the oven. Since you won’t be cooking a stuffed turkey (the bird cooks more evenly without stuffing), there is no need to close the breast cavity with elaborate sewing or skewering techniques. And don’t have any qualms about cooking the stuffing separately, because—apart from endless warnings about salmonella, which don’t particularly persuade me—now that so many turkeys are injected with basting juices, there is always the chance that the stuffing will be drenched with interior liquid and emerge from the cavity of the bird about the consistency of Cream of Wheat. If at all possible, buy a fresh eighteen- to twenty-pound turkey from a good small market or local store. These are much different from the turkeys labeled fresh in meat departments of chain supermarkets; those are merely not frozen, and I’m dubious about their freshness after having cooked one. If you can get one of these actually fresh turkeys—and it pays to do some inquiring over the phone about sources—you will be amazed at the texture as well as the taste. I didn’t believe there would be much difference, but a fresh turkey and a frozen turkey are like two completely different species. The main thing to remember is that you simply can’t hurt a turkey—there really isn’t any way to ruin it. If it overcooks a little, no one knows. In fact, most people are more accustomed to eating overcooked turkey than a turkey that is still moist and beautifully done. If you discover the bird is slightly under- cooked, just carve the part that’s done. The meat is usually a little pink around the bone and the joints of the leg and thigh. Also remember that— in my opinion, at least—unless you’ve found a lovely, truly fresh turkey, it’s the least interesting, if most essential, ingredient of Thanksgiving dinner.
One 18- to 20-pound turkey, fresh or frozen and thoroughly thawed in the refrigerator for 3 days 1⁄2 cup (1 stick) butter melted, or 1⁄2 cup canola oil, or a combination 1⁄2 cup canola oil, for soaking the cotton square An assortment of garnishes such as small, polished apples, kumquats, sliced or whole oranges, lemon leaves frosted with beaten egg white and kosher salt, or anything that appeals to you (optional) EQUIPMENT - Large metal or foil roasting pan - Small paintbrush (unused, of course) or flat pastry brush - 6 to 8 inches hobby wire of any gauge (optional) - Strip of cotton sheeting or a white cotton handkerchief about 6 inches square, to be discarded after use - 1 or 2 instant-read meat thermometers • Bulb baster - Cookie sheet if using foil roasting pan
1. Discard the giblets—usually packets containing the
paper- wrapped liver, gizzard, neck, and so on tucked into the breast and neck cavities. I once cooked a bird that was packed this way without checking the neck cavity. It didn’t hurt anything, but it smelled . . . gamy . . . the whole time it was cooking.
2. Remove one oven rack, place the other in its lowest position, and preheat oven to 350°F. Wash the turkey under cool running water both inside and out and pat the turkey dry with paper towels. This requires two people and lots of paper towels.
3. Lightly brush or smear the bottom of a regular or dis-
posable foil roasting pan with some of the oil or butter, or a mixture of the two. (At Thanksgiving I feel no guilt about using a disposable pan, but be sure to place it on a sturdy cookie sheet for support.) Place the turkey in the pan and paint it, too, with a little more of the melted butter and/or oil.
4. Turn the wing tips under the turkey. To figure out how
to do this, cross your hands behind the small of your back and look in the mirror—that’s more or less how the turkey should look. It will appear to have its arms akimbo. If you still can’t visualize this, look at the turkeys in the meat section of the grocery store; many of them are already prepared with the wings tucked beneath them, or you can ask any butcher. The reason I go into detail about all this is that one long-ago Thanksgiving I saw a picture in a magazine of an elegant-looking roasted turkey. Its wing tips were pointing skyward, and it definitely had a more aristocratic posture than my turkeys assume. I decided to leave the wing tips untucked, and when I tipped the pan halfway through the cooking in order to collect the basting juices, the entire bird rolled out of the oven into my arms. The turned-under wing tips make a stable base for the bird, hold it upright, and prevent it from rolling even when the pan is tipped. I use a piece of hobby wire to hold the legs together at the bone end, but these aren’t the long-legged turkeys of my mother’s day, and I don’t really think it is essential to bother with it.
5. Cut from an old white cotton sheet a 6-inch square of cloth, or use a dime-store cotton handkerchief. Saturate the cotton with oil or butter. Drape it over the breast of the turkey. Leave it in place for the first hour of cooking and then discard it.
6. Put the turkey in the oven about 4 hours before you
plan for it to be done. every book I’ve read says it will take that long to cook, even though I’ve never had a turkey of any size that wasn’t done in 3 to 31⁄2 hours. Buy 1 or 2 instant-read meat thermometers—I use 2 thermometers to take instant readings in two parts of the turkey at once, because sometimes one reading isn’t accurate. You can order them from any number of cooking catalogs, or you can get them in almost any kitchen store. At first, baste
the turkey every 30 minutes with the remaining melted butter and/or oil, and then with its own juices, using a bulb baster. If you’ve never used a bulb baster, try it out with water in a bowl in your sink first or you risk basting the inside of the oven and creating excessive smoke.
7. Place the thawed, uncovered casserole of dressing
(recipe on page 41) next to the stove, and, after the first hour of cooking and basting the turkey, discard the oilsoaked cotton cloth and begin to baste the waiting dressing with the drippings every time you baste the turkey. Try to distribute the drippings evenly over the dressing, either by using a large spoon or ejecting the liquid from the bulb baster in an even flow, so that by the time the turkey emerges from the oven the stuffing will be uniformly moist and ready to put in the oven. You can always, of course, collect extra drippings and spoon them over the stuffing after you have removed the turkey from the oven to even out the consistency.
8. After 3 hours of cooking time, pull the oven rack out
and test the turkey in the thickest part of the thigh and the breast for temperature readings. I think the turkey is just right when the temperature registers 165° to 175°F, although the meat may be slightly pink just around the bone. Some cooks roast a turkey until a meat thermometer registers 185° or 190°F; and that’s all right, but the white meat will be much less moist. When the turkey is done, remove it from the oven. If you have used a cookie sheet under a disposable pan, be sure to lift the sheet and pan together. Let the turkey sit in the pan out of the way for at least a half hour before you move it to its serving platter. Otherwise juice will run all over the plate.
9. Carve one side of the turkey while everything else is
cooking. (The best guide I’ve found to carving a turkey is the directions and illustrations in The Joyof Cooking, although I prefer the breast carved in slices 1⁄8 to 1⁄4 inch
thick, because the meat is much more moist that way.) Set the turkey on a platter, arrange the sliced meat in front of the carved side, and fill in the sides and back of the platter with a fan of orange slices on each end and an arrangement of lemons, grapes, apples, lemon leaves, or whatever you like. If I’m expecting a large crowd, I often cook, slice, and arrange the turkey before the guests arrive. To keep the sliced meat moist, I cover it with wet, wrung-out paper towels. The gravy will be hot, and you can put the platter in a warm, turned-off oven with the door slightly ajar (leave the damp paper towels over the sliced meat until you take the platter from the oven) for about 10 minutes while you get everything else on the table. I find that if there are more than 4 to 6 people, it just isn’t feasible to try to carve the turkey just before serving it, because everything else gets cold. If I’m having 20 or more people, I cook 2 turkey breasts (in the freezer case at the grocery, thaw in the refrigerator for about 3 days before cooking) in addition to the whole turkey and slice them the day before. Then I fan the breast meat out on the platter and cover it with the freshly carved white meat from the just- roasted turkey.
1 box (16 ounces) gingersnap cookies 1/2 cup sugar 1/4 cup pecans 1/2 cup (1 stick) butter, melted Butter for pie pans EQUIPMENT - Food processor - Two 8- or 9- inch pie pans
1. Preheat oven to 375째F. 2. Place the gingersnaps, sugar, and pecans in the con-
tainer of a standard food processor fitted with the metal S blade. Process by pulsing until the ingredients are crushed and combined.
3. While the machine is running, pour in the melted butter through the drip tube. If your machine has no drip attachment, simply pour the butter slowly through the feed tube. Process until thoroughly mixed and pulverized; the mixture will have the composition and malleability of damp sand.
4. Liberally butter two 8- or 9-inch pie pans. Divide the
contents of the food processor evenly between them. Using the tips of your fingers, press the crumb mixture firmly and evenly over the bottom and sides of the pan, exactly as if you were molding sand at the beach.
5.
Bake for 8 minutes. Remove from the oven and let cool while you prepare and cool the filling.
3 eggs, separated 1 cup firmly packed brown sugar 1 cup milk 1 can (16 ounces) unsweetened pumpkin 1â „2 cup water or bourbon 2 envelopes plain gelatin 2 tablespoons white sugar 1 tablespoon ground cinnamon 1 teaspoon ground allspice 2 teaspoons ground nutmeg 1â „2 teaspoon ground cloves 1 teaspoon vanilla extract 1 cup whipping cream EQUIPMENT - Double boiler - Handheld mixer - Rubber spatula
1. In the top of a double boiler (not yet placed over hot
water), beat the egg yolks with a handheld mixer until light. Slowly beat in the brown sugar and the milk. Stir in the pumpkin, cinnamon, allspice, nutmeg, cloves, and vanilla, and cook over simmering water for 10 minutes while stirring fairly steadily. (The taste of the filling will be too strong, but don’t adjust the seasonings. The flavor will be lightened by the addition of stiffly beaten egg whites before you fill the crusts.) Remove from heat.
2. Pour the water or bourbon into a small pan and sprinkle
the gelatin over the surface. Let it sit for 1 minute and then heat and stir slowly until it is dissolved and the liquid is translucent. Add the gelatin mixture to the pumpkin mixture, beating well to combine thoroughly. Chill in the refrigerator for 30 to 40 minutes, then beat again when cool.
3. Place the egg whites in a large bowl and beat with a
whisk or mixer until they begin to form soft peaks. Slowly add the white sugar and continue to beat until the egg whites form an unbend- ing peak on the whisk or beater when you hold it upright.
4. With a rubber spatula or spoon, fold pumpkin mixture
into the egg whites, beginning with one large spoonful of pumpkin. Turn the pumpkin and egg whites steadily with a kind of scooping sweep of your spoon or a rubber spatula until they are combined, adding the pumpkin about 1â „2 cup at a time. Fill the cooled pie crusts and chill, uncovered, for 30 minutes, then cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate at least overnight before serving.
1. As early as 3 hours before you serve dinner, you can whip the cream in a chilled bowl until it is very thick. Let it stand, covered, in the refrigerator.
2. Using a rubber spatula, spread the whipped cream over the tops of the pies just before serving.
Robb Forman Dew grew up in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, and spent many Thanksgivings at her grandmother’s house in Natchez. The recipient of a Guggenheim Fellowship, Dew is the author of the novels Dale Loves Sophie to Death, for which she received the National Book Award; The Time of Her Life; Fortunate Lives; The Evidence Against Her; The Truth of the Matter; and, most recently, Being Polite to Hitler, as well as a memoir, The Family Heart. She lives in Williamstown, Massachusetts.