Thoughts for Thanksgiving

I had meant to write this last night, getting it ready to go up at the usual 6 a.m., all set for coffee-time reading. But I fell asleep on the sofa (or, more accurately, on the sofa and propped up on Craig's shoulder - I hope I didn't drool). Then I rolled over and went back to sleep with my head propped up on the arm of the sofa. Then I went to bed.

It was a looong day of proofreading a special Holiday Sweets cookie and candy section for Sunday's paper. On top of three photo shoots in a six-day period (for five stories, including eighteen recipes ... and if there's something to photograph, that's 'cause I did the schlep to the store and all the cooking, baking, and cleaning). I have one more holiday gift guide to finish; my first one, filled with ideas for kitchen mavens, comes on Tuesday.

And while it may sound like I'm whining, I don't mean to. Well ... I mean to a little! (Sometimes, you've just gotta vent, right?)

My full-time job is feeding my Tuesday pages and Sunday's Morsels column; two gift guides, Health and Living stories, the Holiday Sweets package ... that's all extra. Lately, it feels as though the only thing missing is the partridge in a pear tree. Are the holidays over yet?!?!? Getting everything ready for them, so that all my friends and readers can have beautiful meals and treats, is a tremendous investment of time and care.

But I'm going to stop whining now. Because in the midst of all the proofreading yesterday, I took time out to help serve the Thanksgiving lunch at the Martin Luther King Kitchen for the Poor. Jeremy and I did this last year, and it was such a meaningful experience that it was essential to me to do it again.

I ran in just at noon, not having been able to get out of work any sooner to help with prep. I arrived just as executive director Harvey Savage, Jr. was offering a warm welcome to the assembled group.

And by "assembled group," I mean the men and women and children who lined the entire perimeter of the large community room, the men and women and children who were lined up out the door. The men and women and children who weren't dressed in their finest holiday clothes, who didn't bring the pumpkin pie or the cranberry sauce, but instead came in old, somewhat disheveled clothing for the sustenance - both physical and spiritual - that the Kitchen was offering.

Miss Henrietta, left, and her staff and volunteers.

There seemed to be more need this year, more people seeking a hearty free meal that was made and served with love by Miss Henrietta and her regular core group of staff and volunteers. Miss Henrietta is a "no nonsense" woman. She has a heart as big as that community room that hosted so many guests; but when she calls out that she needs some strong young men to help take out the trash, several strong young men jump to attention and do as they're told.

When I had an opportunity to talk with Harvey about the number of people who'd come for lunch yesterday, he said that by 1 o'clock they'd already filled "seven or eight sheets" on the sign-in list. Each sheet holds twenty-five names, I think. (Don't quote me on that, but I know it's a lot.) The lunch was going to continue, still, for another half-hour. Harvey said that he does see more need this year; and he told me that more white people are coming in, too, to a place that is historically African-American but always welcoming to everyone.

There were older men and women, younger men and women, people who looked as though they might be wearing the only warm clothes they own. There was a young woman holding an adorable six-month-old baby on her hip. When I admired the baby and told her I missed that - having a little one - because mine is 24 years old and 6'3", she half-jokingly but half-seriously chided me for lying ... you know it has to be difficult for her, caring for a baby when her resources are undoubtedly very meager. When I saw her later, without her coat on, it looked as though she might be pregnant again; her abdomen didn't have the post-partum softness, but rather a firm bump.

One older woman came up to receive her boxed lunch and asked if she could have one to take home to her husband, who hadn't come with her. No, Miss Henrietta said; only one per person. It wasn't stated outright, but I'm guessing that this was to ensure that everyone who came in was able to eat, that there may have been calculations of the great need vs. the limits of the food supplies. As faith-centric as the Kitchen is, having been founded by Harvey's and Miss Henrietta's father, the late Rev. Harvey Savage, Sr., even they can't stretch a few fish and some loaves of bread to feed the 5,000.

As I helped to cut homemade sheet cakes that had been donated, I worked with a very nice young man whose name, unfortunately, I didn't get. (We were busy, filling boxes and plates and greeting people.) He was familiar with the work of the Cherry Street Mission, which offers food and shelter to the homeless community. He is active in his church. He clearly gives to, and supports, those in need to the best of his ability.

He told me, "This place has been here 50 years, and this is my first time doing this" - serving the Thanksgiving meal. "I feel ashamed." And he hung his head, feeling genuine embarrassment for not having been a part of this effort in previous years.

Then he waved at someone across the room, telling me, "I went to school with him." They'd started out life together, but one was serving the meal and the other was benefiting from it. The young man could have ignored his former classmate, but instead acknowledged him. They didn't speak, that I know of, to find out how life had treated them differently, how each had ended up on different sides of the serving table. It was undoubtedly difficult for both of them to have this moment of recognition.

The picture at the top of this post is of the "to go" container that each guest at the Kitchen received yesterday. There was no special china, no freshly polished silverware; the first task I was set to was the distribution of plastic forks that had been wrapped in paper napkins. People sat at the long tables eating what might be their only holiday meal out of styrofoam.

There were no second helpings. There was no choice in what was served, with the exception of serving one box with no ham to a man who doesn't eat pork. One man asked if he could have a different type of bread, rather than the roll; but in the noise and commotion of feeding such a long line of people, those in the kitchen didn't hear him. Something as simple as being able to choose what was on his plate was denied him.

And yet, prayers of thanks were offered before the meal. Throughout the service, people praised the Lord for having brought them to the Kitchen, for having brought them food either to eat when hungry or to serve to those in need. Invariably, each person who came up to the table said "Thank you," regardless of age or life situation. Everyone was polite. Every single one. There was true thanks giving.

The picture above shows a generous meal prepared and served with love; both ham and turkey are hiding under that bread roll. But it is admittedly a meager meal, without the bounty that many of us will enjoy today. There is no buffet of pound cakes and pies, no fresh salad, no sweet potato casserole with little burnished marshmallows. These are donated items, items bought on sale, canned vegetables and cranberry sauce.

There is truly, genuinely nothing wrong with this wholesome, substantial meal; I took a "to go" box for my own lunch, sharing in the bounty only after ensuring that it could be spared. Each of the staff and volunteers sampled the meal, a true community dinner. Harvey joked that if I didn't take mine he'd be eating it. You know I would never, ever take food from someone in need. But I am not too proud, or too important, or in possession of too sophisticated a palate (Cheetos lover that I am, ha!) that I wouldn't share in this generous food, too.

I go to many, many events where I get to dress up and sample a specially selected wine with each course; and there are multiple courses, served by professional waitstaff in elegant surroundings like country clubs. Oysters and foie gras and truffles have made appearances in the dinners I've been invited to.

One of the hazards of my job, if you can call it that, is that I get paid to eat. And I get paid to eat food prepared by some of the top chefs in the city, the country, the world.

But it was far more important to have shared in the Kitchen's Thanksgiving lunch yesterday, because part of my mission as Food Editor is to tell the story of food: holidays, nutrition, health, fun, silliness, trends, and need. Especially need.

I'm told fairly regularly by editors that I don't write for the "social action page." Recipes are the focus, a detente that has been grudgingly achieved as I feel important parts of the food world are left out.

It's difficult to go to the Kitchen, as much as I enjoy seeing my friends there and doing what little bit I can to help given the chaos of my schedule. And it's not difficult only because of being confronted with the realities of hunger in a country filled with so much abundance.

It's difficult because the experience is heartwarming and heartbreaking, joyous and sad, infuriating and frustrating, comforting and disturbing, all at once. There is so much laughter, so much focus on blessings and the Lord's generosity. And there's so much sadness, such a feeling of inadequacy because you can't fix it, you can't solve it, you can't wish the pain away for the Kitchen's guests. There's a muddle of confused emotions.

I think everyone should spend the day before Thanksgiving at a breakfast program, a homeless shelter's dinner, or a church's giveaway of food boxes. Because while so many of us are complaining that there's no room in the refrigerator for the turkey and the green bean casserole and the salad ingredients and the cider and all the other plentiful items we'll be gorging on at our own holiday celebrations, there are people who have nothing - no assurance of a bed, of warmth, or of another meal - who still say "thank you" when you give them so little in a styrofoam box that's accompanied by a plastic fork.

And so, my Thanksgiving today is about much more than timing the side dishes to be ready when the turkey is. And I do hope that yours will be, as well.

Pumpkin Bread Pudding with Maple Bourbon Brown Sugar Sauce

'Tis the season ....

No, not THAT season yet. (Soon. Frighteningly soon. But not just yet.)

'Tis the season for pumpkin. And for warming, comforting foods as we watch the leaves fall and the winds blow them around. And for starting to consider holiday meals, which absolutely must include dessert.

Because even though we've stuffed ourselves more fully than the Thanksgiving turkey, dessert is mandatory, right? Just one more bite ... and then another, and another.

We can't resist. We are weak. We are helpless creatures, caught in the tractor beam that draws us to all the fat, all the sugar, all the temptation, all the deliciousness.

And I'm here to play matchmaker, introducing you to the new love of your life. You'll dream about the creaminess, the hint of spiciness, the light crunchiness of the sugary topping. Your heart will start fluttering ... or is that just the cholesterol clogging up your arteries?

You can thank me once you wake up from your food coma ... :)


Pumpkin Bread Pudding with Maple Bourbon Brown Sugar Sauce

Pudding:
3 eggs
1/3 cup powdered sugar
1/4 cup sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla
1-1/2 cups 2% milk
1 teaspoon + 1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
1 cup pumpkin puree
4 large day-old croissants, cut into 1-inch cubes
1/4 cup brown sugar

Sauce:
4 tablespoons butter
1/3 cup brown sugar
1 tablespoon maple syrup
1 tablespoon bourbon
1 tablespoon corn syrup
1 teaspoon vanilla
1/2 cup half-and-half

Make pudding: Preheat oven to 350F. Grease a 9-by-13 inch baking dish.

In a large bowl, whisk together eggs, powdered sugar, sugar, vanilla, milk, 1 teaspoon cinnamon, and pumpkin puree. Stir in croissant cubes and mix well; let rest 5 minutes. Pour mixture into prepared pan.

Combine remaining 1/4 teaspoon cinnamon with brown sugar; sprinkle over pudding.

Bake for 45 to 50 minutes, until pudding is puffy and a tester inserted into the center comes out clean. Let rest 5 minutes before serving.

Make sauce: Place butter, brown sugar, maple syrup, bourbon, corn syrup, and vanilla into a small saucepan and melt together over medium-high heat. Whisk in half-and-half and bring to a boil. Cook, undisturbed, for 1 minute. Let cool 10 minutes; sauce will thicken.

Cut pudding into squares and serve with ice cream or whipped cream, along with the sauce.

Yield: 8 generous or 12 moderate servings.

Is This Really a Food Story?

I have a fairly expansive view of what constitutes a food story. It has to have something to do with food, and not just peripherally. But food doesn’t necessarily need to be the sole and central topic, either. Does that make sense?

If it sounds a bit vague, that’s because clarifying the criteria for a food story seems to be a bit like the infamous definition of pornography: I know it when I see it, even if I can’t quite adequately describe it. But let me try to describe it ... a food story, that is.

I think a church dinner is a fair subject for something labeled a food story. But the food, which is undoubtedly delicious, is not the point. The gathering over a meal is, by far, the more important aspect. The welcoming of those in need is the crux of it, if the particular meal is meant for those who are hungry rather than, say, being a potluck for congregants. The role of food, as it offers sustenance as well as an entree into forming friendships and creating community, is what matters more than the specific dishes or the recipes for them.

I once wrote about the ice cream vending machine in a hospital cafeteria, and how its robotic arm – which reached into a cooler to pull out the selected item – was an amusing diversion. Because when a loved one is sick, even something as simple as this can be an entertaining respite. And it can be fodder for a story that may be food-related, but really isn’t entirely about the food.

Overwhelmingly, I find that people respond better – in greater numbers but, more importantly, personally and intimately – when the story veers from the straight, narrow, and literal topic of food. Because it becomes a human story, instead, that happens to have food as an ingredient.

When writing last Thanksgiving about fractured families that don’t gather together for the holiday because of various misunderstandings and grudges and traumas, the story was about how to overcome the sense of loss as others celebrated festively. My planned menu was barely acknowledged, an aside that was irrelevant to the admission that my family wouldn’t qualify for a Norman Rockwell painting. The column may have mentioned a meal, but the story wasn’t at all about the turkey, the stuffing, or even the pie.

And when I wrote about Hobbesie, whose real name is Hobbit, I told of having found a scrawny, crying cat wandering in my neighborhood and how he proceeded to earn his name by eating several breakfasts, lunch, afternoon tea, dinner, and evening and bedtime snacks, too. (Hobbesie is now hefty enough that he might make a hearty meal, himself, if he lived in a different community.) Ostensibly a story about a cat, it was really about rescuing a new family member by sharing food and love ... and more food.

I don’t think readers look to me for stories that are strictly about food or recipes or cooking or shopping or restaurants. Rather, it seems my friends stop by to share in a conversation about the varied and myriad roles that food plays in our lives, the ways that it is a part of our story – individually and collectively – beyond merely what we’re serving for dinner tonight.

Folks may read what I write, some days, and wonder, “What does this have to do with food?”

But to me, the stories are always about food. I might talk very specifically about Oreos and the glut of newfangled models that don’t quite qualify for Oreo-dom. But then I’ll also write about sharing some of those new Oreos and making a friend in the process, using the cookies as a supporting player rather than casting them in a starring role.

So what constitutes a food story? I’m not sure if I’ve necessarily clarified that. A friend once told me that he thinks anything and everything could potentially be a food story, even World War II if you looked at it in terms of rationing, Spam, and victory gardens.

Simply put, I think there are far more ingredients to a food story than merely, and literally, the food.

Sweet Potato and Corn Potatonik

My very good friend, and a former restaurant chef, Kate wrote to me recently with this tantalizing tidbit: "Just discovered potatonik while reading a local obituary, and after Googling it realize that this could change everything come Thanksgivikkuh! Might be the perfect dish for blending the flavors of both traditions."

Well, remarkably - given that I work and live in the Jewish community - I had never heard of this. (Who's been holding out on me???) So, of course, I immediately did a search and found a recipe from Mark Bittman for his grandmother's recipe. A potatonik is essentially a giant latke!

But for Thanksgivukkah - the fabulous, once-in-a-lifetime overlapping of Thanksgiving with the first day of Hanukkah - we needed to incorporate some of those Thanksgiving flavors into this potato dish. So I adapted the recipe significantly while following the basic procedure, adding sweet potatoes and corn and just a bit of cornmeal.

I fried it up, watched it sizzle, flipped it (a little less than gracefully, so patching was required), cooked it more on the other side, and then plated an enormous, golden, crispy melding of Jewish and Thanksgiving culinary traditions.

Serve it with both Brandied Cranberry Apple Compote and sour cream, and enjoy every little celebratory bite!

Sweet Potato and Corn Potatonik

1 pound sweet potatoes
1/2 pound Yukon Gold potatoes
1 small onion, finely chopped
1 cup corn kernels
3 eggs
3 tablespoons cornmeal
kosher salt and freshly ground pepper, to taste
1/2 cup oil

Peel the sweet potato and trim the ends; grate into a large mixing bowl. Grate the potatoes and add to the sweet potato; stir together with the onion, corn, eggs, cornmeal, salt, and pepper.

Heat the oil in a 13" skillet, then carefully spread the sweet potato batter into it, flattening the mixture. Cook over medium-ish (bit more than medium, but not quite medium-high) heat for 15 minutes. Slide the potatonik onto a large platter, then cover with another platter; flip, then slide the potatonik back into the skillet and cook for another 15 minutes.

Slide potatonik onto a serving platter, then serve by cutting into wedges.

Makes 12-16 servings.


And here are some other dishes for your Thanksgivukkah feast (or for either Thanksgiving or Hanukkah, whatever you're celebrating in the next few days!):

Kugel Latkes

Loaded Baked Potato Latkes

Burek (Spiced Beef Egg Rolls)

Provolone Fritto con Marinara (Fried Provolone)

Curried Potato 'n' Pea Latkes with Yogurt-Cucumber Sauce

Pumpkin Apple Bread

Sweet Potatoes Baked with Rosemary

Pomegranate Molasses-Glazed Carrots

Butterscotch Pumpkin Pudding

Sweet Potato Biscuits

Last Chance to Vote!!!

Have you voted today in the Manischewitz "Happy Thanksgivukkah Recipe Contest?" I'd be so grateful if you voted for my Cranberry Orange Thanksgivukkah Rugelach!

There's a $1000 grand prize waiting for me, if all of you could please vote for me. The more the merrier for this party!

Just click here to vote, and then be sure to share with all your friends. Voting ends today!

Another Day, Another Vote!

Have you voted today in the Manischewitz "Happy Thanksgivukkah Recipe Contest?" I'd be so grateful if you voted for my Cranberry Orange Thanksgivukkah Rugelach!

There's a $1000 grand prize waiting for me, if all of you could please vote for me. The more the merrier for this party!

Just click here to vote, and then be sure to share with all your friends. Voting ends tomorrow!

Have You Voted Yet???

Have you voted today in the Manischewitz "Happy Thanksgivukkah Recipe Contest?" I'd be so grateful if you voted for my Cranberry Orange Thanksgivukkah Rugelach!

There's a $1000 grand prize waiting for me, if all of you could please vote for me. The more the merrier for this party!

Just click here to vote, and then be sure to share with all your friends. Voting continues each day (1 vote per person per day) until November 24.

Have You Voted for Me Today?

Have you voted today in the Manischewitz "Happy Thanksgivukkah Recipe Contest?" I'd be so grateful if you voted for my Cranberry Orange Thanksgivukkah Rugelach!

There's a $1000 grand prize waiting for me, if all of you could please vote for me. The more the merrier for this party!

Just click here to vote, and then be sure to share with all your friends. Voting continues each day (1 vote per person per day) until November 24.

Cranberry-Orange Thanksgivukkah Rugelach + A Voting Request

 

According to Wikipedia, rugelach [rug-uh-LUCK] are "a Jewish pastry of Ashkenazic (European) origin. Traditional rugelach are made in the form of a crescent by rolling a triangle of dough around a filling." Some are filled with chocolate, some with apricot, and they always seem to contain nuts. They're a bit like pastry, a bit like a cookie.

These are more cookie and less pastry, and I've varied the fruit filling because next Thursday is Thanksgivukkah - a mash-up of Thanksgiving and the first day of Hanukkah - and Turkey Day flavors were warranted for the traditional Yiddishche treats.

Remember that Jewish "days" actually begin at sundown and then continue through the night and the day, ending at the next sundown. The first day of Hanukkah begins on the evening of Wednesday, November 27 and continues until sundown on Thursday, November 28. That means that it coincides with Thanksgiving!!! It's only happened once before, since Thanksgiving is a relatively new holiday; and it's not going to happen, by mathematicians' calculations, for another 70,000 years. Yup, 70,000! Thanksgivukkah is literally, truly, amazingly a once-in-a-lifetime holiday!!!

This calls for a celebration!

So for the next few posts, I'm taking traditional Jewish foods and putting a Thanksgiving-ish spin on them in honor of the holiday ... like with these rugelach filled with cranberries, which are also featured (very slightly tweaked) in the Manischewitz "Happy Thanksgivukkah Recipe Contest."

There's a $1000 grand prize waiting for me, if all of you could please vote for me and then share the link on Twitter or Facebook or email or even good ol'-fashioned word of mouth so your loved ones can help, too. 40% of the judging to determine finalists will be based upon votes, so the more the merrier for this party!

Just click here to vote, and then be sure to share with all your friends. Voting continues each day (1 vote per person per day) until November 24. There has been some mishigas with the site and with difficulties in voting; so if you have trouble, don't start schvitzing - I appreciate the thought! THANK YOU to everyone for your help - it's a mitzvah (good deed)!


Cranberry-Orange Rugelach

Filling:
1/4 cup finely chopped walnuts
2 cups fresh cranberries
1/2 cup sugar
3 tablespoons water
3 tablespoons orange marmalade

In a medium saucepan, toast the walnuts over medium-low heat just until fragrant; place into a small mixing bowl.

Add the cranberries, sugar, and water to the now-empty saucepan; bring to a boil, then lower heat to medium. Cook until mixture is very thick, stirring constantly and pressing down onto the cranberries to mash them. You should have 1 cup of filling; stir filling mixture and marmalade into the walnuts and set aside.

Dough:
1 cup butter-flavor shortening, at room temperature
1 8-ounce package cream cheese, at room temperature
1 egg
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1/2 cup sugar
3 cups flour

Preheat oven to 325F.
Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.

In a large mixing bowl, combine shortening and cream cheese; stir in egg and salt. Stir in sugar, then stir in flour - dough will be crumbly. Empty the dough onto the countertop and knead until it comes together. Divide dough into 4 portions.

Roll one portion at a time into a 12" circle on a lightly floured countertop. Spread with 1/4 of the cranberry mixture, spreading to within 1" of the outer edge.

Cut the dough into quarters, then cut each quarter into 4 equal portions to make 16 portions. One at a time, starting with the outer edge, roll a portion of dough towards the center to form a spiral. Place onto the prepared cookie sheet and repeat until the entire circle of dough has been rolled.

Bake for 25-30 minutes, until the cookies are golden and feel set when pressed. Let cool on a rack. Repeat with remaining dough and filling.

To finish the cookies, place a scant 1/4 cup confectioners' sugar into a large freezer baggie. Add two dozen cookies, shake to coat them in sugar, then remove them to a serving tray and repeat with remaining cookies.

Makes 64 cookies.

Sweet Potatoes Baked with Rosemary and Salt

My BFF Wendy told me recently that she'd eaten a fabulous dish at a party recently: "sliced sweet potatoes with a thin coating of oil, lots of rosemary, a little salt, baked." Several times, she insisted that I had to make it.

And so, I did.

I adore sweet potatoes - baked, fried, whipped, candied, whatever. Rosemary emits an extraordinary aroma. In this dish, the two combine in a beautiful, simple preparation that lets the ingredients shine.

These sweet potatoes are tender, sweet, slightly caramelized at the edges, fragrant, and delicious. They're easy to make for Thanksgiving, and could even be made ahead of time and reheated to make your preparations easier.

May you have a peaceful, blessed, and happy Thanksgiving with all your favorite loved ones and a feast of fabulous food!



In case you still need some ideas, here are some other suggestions for your holiday menu:

Applesauce Pie

Pomegranate Molasses-Glazed Carrots

Chocolate Pecan Pie

Butterscotch Pumpkin Pudding

Buttermilk Biscuits

Cranberry-Pecan Stuffing

Quince-Glazed Baked Yams

Orange-Glazed Pumpkin Loaf Cake

Brown Sugar Tea Cake with Moscato Glaze


Sweet Potatoes Baked with Rosemary and Salt

• 2 very large sweet potatoes
• 3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
• 1-1/2 tablespoons kosher salt
• 1 tablespoon minced fresh rosemary

Preheat oven to 350F.

Cut the ends off the sweet potatoes, peel them, and cut them in half lengthwise; place into a large mixing bowl.

Drizzle the sweet potatoes with the oil. Add salt and rosemary; stir to coat.

Place the sweet potatoes into a 10" pie pan or casserole dish. Bake uncovered for 45 minutes, then stir carefully. Cover with foil and cook for 30 more minutes, until sweet potatoes are very tender.

Serves 8-10.

The Turducken Has Landed!

Most people, I think - when not receiving emails from friends, family, or colleagues - find their inboxes filled with pictures of cute animals, prayer requests, and promises of grand fortunes if they'll only forward the chain mail to 12 of the most fabulous women they know. And, of course, there's obscene spam. All of that finds its way to me, all day, every day.

But one afternoon, I also received this:

"As families across the United States prepare for the up-coming holiday feasts, Echelon Foods’ Original Turducken is giving home cooks the ability to present gourmet fare without the chaotic preparation normally associated with sophisticated food offerings ....

The Original Turducken has been quickly gaining converts amongst bloggers and journalists across North America. We would love for you to consider featuring the Original Turducken on Food Floozie, so please let us know if you are interested in speaking further."

Well, a girl doesn't see that every day! So, of course I leapt at the opportunity.

After a few more emails back and forth, and waiting a couple of days, I found a very large box of perishable goods at my door.

The Turducken had landed!

While I'd heard of these creative concoctions, I'd never prepared a Turducken before - either deboning and stuffing my own or even just roasting a ready-made one. But I was surprised to find that many people I know had no idea what a Turducken was. So, here's the scoop: a Turducken is a chicken stuffed into a duck, which is then stuffed into a turkey. Similar dishes have been served for hundreds of years, particularly during Medieval times when elaborate feasts were all the rage among the nobility.

All of my family and friends were intrigued, fascinated by the prospect of seeing and - even better - tasting something this unique.

I let the bird (yeah, there are actually three of 'em; but it looks like one) defrost for the requisite 5 days in the refrigerator. And then, on a beautiful sunny Saturday morning when I had the time to devote to the slow cooking required for the density of the meat, I roasted a Turducken for the very first time.

The instructions indicated that I should cook it at 220F for 7+ hours ... that seemed very low and slow, even if acknowledging that the company knows what it's doing and gave an appropriate recipe. But I thought I'd raise the temperature to 350F, crisping up the skin a bit more. I could always turn the temperature down. I could always cover the bird with foil if it was browning too quickly. But you know me - I always have to tinker with things, tweaking protocols or techniques or ingredients or something. I cooked my Turducken for 4.5 hours, and it turned out perfectly.

I have to say that this was much easier to prepare than a regular ol' stuffed turkey. Although it's not a lot of bother to mix together bread and broth and then shove it all inside a bird, the fact that my Turducken came pre-stuffed and prepped to unwrap and place directly into a baking dish - that is a tremendous boon on a busy day like Thanksgiving. The bird is ready to cook, there are fewer dishes to wash ... it's all good!

And oh, when is the "scratch 'n' sniff" app coming for bloggers??? The house smelled amazing as the Turducken roasted! Not quite turkey, not quite chicken, but familiar and comforting and enticing. Those who were here to keep me company for the adventure kept remarking how fabulous the aroma was when they walked in, kept asking me when - oh, when? - would it be time to eat. It was seductive.

Once the Turducken is cooked, you have to be careful to let it rest a bit, letting the juices settle to keep the meat from drying out just as you do with other poultry. And because it's several delicacies in one rather than a solid piece, carving and slicing need to be done carefully in order to retain the integrity of the servings.

Everyone who joined me in this adventure was thrilled to finally enjoy the feast. Comments like "amazing" and "rich" and "delicious" poured forth. The meat was tender, succulent. Folks wanted leftovers; and because the Turducken is solid meat - rather than meat and cavity and stuffing, like a turkey - there is plenty of it to send home with loved ones who want to indulge some more. And you'll still be left with an abundance for making sandwiches, casseroles, or anything else that strikes your fancy.

I was so giddy to have this adventure with the Turducken, to have a new culinary experience, and to share the gift with family and friends. If you'd like to liven up your Thanksgiving (or other holiday) meals with something decadent, look no further than the Turducken!

Applesauce Pie

My friend Marcy Bishop Kates, of Incu-Bake - her commercial kitchen which rents space, and provides love and support, to an extended family of fabulous food producers - posted on Facebook recently about an applesauce pie. She thought it looked intriguing for fall.

I love applesauce pie, just love it! Sweet, spicy, fragrant, delicious ... I hadn't made it in ages, and had practically forgotten about it. For shame!

This is a deceptively simple recipe that appears to be fairly ordinary; but it is so lovely, so perfect for the season. This pie can be made on the spur of the moment when a craving strikes, or would make an ideal treat during Sukkot (which began last night), for Thanksgiving, or "just 'cause" ....

Applesauce Pie
(slightly adapted from Marcia Adams' New Recipes from Quilt Country)

• crust for a 9" pie
• 2 eggs
• 1/2 cup brown sugar
• 2 tablespoons flour
• 1 teaspoon cinnamon
• 1/2 teaspoon nutmeg
• pinch of kosher salt
• 1/2 cup butter, melted
• 1 cup applesauce
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Preheat oven to 350F.  Place the crust into a 9" pie pan.

In a large bowl, whisk together the eggs, brown sugar, flour, cinnamon, nutmeg, and salt. Whisk in the butter, applesauce, and vanilla. Pour filling into crust, and bake pie for 40 minutes until a knife inserted into the center comes out clean. The filling will puff up while cooking, then deflate upon cooling.

Serves 12.

Back At It, Sorta

Hi, there -- me again!

We finally got internet service back at work, so there's been mucho catching up to do. My laptop situation is being resolved as I type, and with any luck I'll be back to posting inanity and fluff very soon. I'm surprised at how well I've dealt with my withdrawal symptoms, and how I've distracted myself: I made a Christmas stocking (remedially, because I am not a seamstress, but it was a labor of love), I've completed several crossword puzzles, I've nearly finished a book, I've baked, I've exercised … it's been good for me!

So, I am still unable to show you some of the amazing things I've made and eaten lately because I have nothing to download my pictures to; and I can't really take hours out of my work day (or stay for hours in the evening) to write my own personal blog posts. (It's bad enough -- and perhaps this is what God was chastising me for when He yanked my cyber-access so abruptly??? -- that I check email or comments every so often throughout the day … tsk, tsk.) But I had to at least check in with my friends and followers for Thanksgiving, to offer my deep appreciation for your support and your encouragement.

My ex-husband is in recovery and has attended many an A.A. meeting. For those of you who may not know much about how they work, there is usually a theme: sometimes they read from the Alcoholics Anonymous book, sometimes attendees pick a topic. And if anyone ever wants to get out early, they volunteer to lead the minions in a discussion of gratitude -- it's the shortest meeting imaginable!

While I've always joked about that, in all honesty I have to hang my own head in shame at how much I take for granted, how much I kvetch about, and how little I show genuine appreciation for gifts that the universe has bestowed upon me. And so, as everyone else is doing (since when am I a lemming???), I am going to offer a list of some things I'm grateful for this year. I sat in the Sanctuary at work to offer some silent thanks, and now I'll take some of it into the public realm.

Health: Never, ever take it for granted! I am one of the healthiest people I know, with good blood pressure and cholesterol/sugar levels, no arthritis, no chronic pain, no significant impediments other than an increasingly feeble memory. I take a thyroid pill each morning along with my vitamins -- that's it. Many of my loved ones have both physical and psychiatric difficulties, and one very special person has been hospitalized twice this year with 5 or 6 (we've lost count) trips to the ER for a variety of issues. Those of us who have good health should be on our knees with gratitude for it, rather than just blissfully scurrying about during our days. Health is a precious commodity, and it is more valuable than many others which would be lost without it.

Money: There's never enough of it, and I worry about it constantly both day and night. Dealing with finances is soul-deadening and I loathe it; I'd like greater financial security, rather than always being tense and careful. However, I have a job that provides both income and health insurance, not to mention some truly dear friends/co-workers … I have a home and the ability to pay rent … I have two cars (my Suburban and Jeremy's Beetle) which have been paid off … have clothes, and even relish the thrill of touring thrift shops for new goodies … I have enough food that I can cook and bake what I please, as well as eating out fairly frequently, and engage in the frivolity of writing about it … I have money to donate to some of my favorite charities in $18 increments (18 being symbolic of "life" in Judaism) … I have no late bills and no creditors seeking a pound or more of my flesh … I have heat, lights, water, and even enough disposable funds to grudgingly cough up to get my computer fixed. I am immensely grateful for all of these blessings and others I haven't either listed or thought of.

Family: I am a firm believer that a family is created by the people one chooses to be with, ones who love you, rather than necessarily being determined by DNA. I have my priceless, beloved Jeremy, without whom my life would cease to exist; Tom, who is a cherished member of my family even if we're not married; Tom's daughter and sisters and brother and nephew and nieces and father and stepmother and grandmother and cousins, who have welcomed me because I love and care for Tom, who is precious to them; Wendy and Connie, my bestest girlfriends without whom I would not have survived much "tsuris" ([TSOOH-riss] = heartache); my parents, who admittedly make me insane but who are there when I need them; my "bubbes" ([BUH-beez] = grandmothers), the amazing elderly women at work who have adopted me and whom I adore; the friends I've gathered in recent years through work, whom I consider to be extended family … I am truly blessed with people to love who remarkably love me in return.





Followers/Friends: I started this blog in March, and am utterly astounded that I am nearing 500 followers! And I have also met wonderful friends whom I would never have encountered anywhere but cyberspace, whom I look forward to hearing from and sharing with each day. The support, encouragement, cheering, commiserating, and just genuine t.l.c. you've all offered to me throughout this adventure is so amazing! I am genuinely grateful for your having found me, followed me, and friended me. But then, people always do bond over food, don't they … ?

Have a lovely, blessed, warm, hearty, fattening, happy Thanksgiving!!! We've got Chanukkah fast approaching, and the Christmas and New Year and birthday season soon thereafter … there's always more food, and traditions to continue ... :)