Turkey Re-Hash

"No more turkey. I will have some more of the bread that it ate, though."

-Hank Ketchum

I love Thanksgiving. I could have it all year round. I adore the idea of a feast for your family and friends, good wine, lots of laughs and the splendid vision of a fully dressed turkey, proudly resting after a long, sizzling slumber in your oven, presented in a fashion that would make King Henry VIII himself, blush with envy. Basted until it yields the golden brown skin and succulent flesh that home cooks the world over seek yearly. I have read of many techniques designed to keep that bird juicy and moist, but most seem bizarre and too troublesome to even attempt. I read of one that tells you to roast your turkey breast-side down for a portion of the cooking time, then flip it over for the remainder. I can picture myself struggling with a hot, stuffed 20 lb turkey wearing some kind of clumsy gloves to turn the bird right side up. Probably splashing the contents of the roasting pan to the floor, disgorging some of the stuffing and, if I didn't drop the turkey to the goddamned floor, I would, at the very least, have a greasy mess to clean up when I would much rather be enjoying a bottle of vino tinto and perhaps a pharmaceutical or two, in the presence of some very nice people who have come to marvel at my skill in the kitchen. Forget that.

I am also a fan of brining. That is where the bird takes a 24-hour bath in a salt and sugar solution in the fridge before being brought to room temperature, dressed and roasted. My buddy and chef, Zac, has presented turkeys with tremendous success in the brining realm. Positively bursting with juice from neck-to-popes-nose. That term, popes nose, for those interested in food history, was began by the English Protestants during the Tudor period, to denote the tail of a roasting fowl and to express contempt for the Catholic Church by suggesting that the Pope's mouth was likened to a bird's asshole. It's filthy, filthy asshole... (For fans of Showtimes divine series, The Tudors, Season Three's DVD's drop on December 15th. I've discussed with my friend, Paul that I am already coming up with ways to cope when that series ends. Wish me luck.) Back to brining. Being that I had purchased a 20 pounder this year, there is nothing that I had at home or could purchase, for that matter, that would accommodate the size of this bird and the brine. I briefly considered buying one of those Ziploc Brand Giant bags, or whatever they are called, but the pictures on the box showed that the bags were designed for storing sweaters and blankets, but not one photo of a raw turkey submerged in brown liquid stashed in someones fridge. My beloved Nigella Lawson suggested to me to purchase a small garbage can for this purpose. Alas, though I follow the words of Ms. Lawson as if they are religion, who's fridge can accommodate a small wastepaper basket as well as everything else in the icebox needed for this day? Not to mention the regular groceries that reside in there as well? Brining was out.

Martha Stewart suggests soaking a length of cheesecloth in melted butter and wine and draping that over the turkey while roasting. I have heard of people actually doing this to great success. The turkey, as well as the cheesecloth become mahogany and the flesh is unbeatably delicious. Even though Martha Stewart is another of my illuminated inspirations, I went with a method that not only makes that bird incredibly moist, but provides the most velvety gravy you've tasted. Here I present my Maple-Roasted Turkey. This also works with a Sunday Night chicken and would be delicious with a pork-loin roast as well. Although with the latter, I would roast some charming lady apples alongside, to be presented as a buttery, spreadable condiment along with the pork. May legions of home cooks take note and grow rich:

Brandon's Maple Roasted Turkey

What You Will Require:

A glorious bird of any size

Your beloved Grandmother's Cornbread Dressing

A stick of butter, softened and blended with savory herbs (thyme, sage, marjoram)

Salt and Pepper

A pound of thick sliced bacon (first quality)

A half cup of pure maple syrup (no detestable maple flavored corn syrup, please.) diluted with a cup of water or stock

Some turkey stock

Procedure:

Preheat your oven to 425 degrees.

Bring the bird to room temperature after thoroughly washing in cold water and patting dry with paper towels. (This is a good time to drink a cup of coffee and smoke a cigarette, while thumbing through your latest issue of Martha Stewart Living, or just fantasizing about the marvelous feast you are going to present to your eager guests who will no doubt boast about your turkey for decades to come.) Remove the bag of guts from the cavity. Sometimes the processors will hide it in the neck cavity in what I am certain is an act of cruelness to an inexperienced home cook. I chop up the liver as fine as I can and blend it into the dressing. My grandmother would not have done this, but she also cooked pork until it was the texture of particle board. Break up the heart, neck and alarmingly enormous gizzard with a knife and strew the pieces on the bottom of the roaster with enough water to cover the bottom of the pan.

If you choose to stuff your turkey, be reminded that it will add some time to it's sojourn in the oven, do this now. Pack it in. Don't forget to stuff the neck cavity as well and tuck the neck flap under the bird's shoulders. This gives a turkey that beautifully rounded appearance, suggesting goodness and plenty for all.

Carefully loosen the breast skin and massage about half of your softened herby-butter all over. Gently melt the rest. (I used the same pan I sauteed the mirepoix for the dressing in) Don't neglect the turkey's armpits. Tuck the wing tips under the turkey's corpse, bring the skin around the cavity over the stuffing and fasten with wooden skewers. With cotton kitchen twine, cross the legs at the ankles and tie a tight knot so that the turkey appears to be coquettish and winsome, protecting it's cavity from prying eyes. Brush the entire bird with the melted herb-butter generously, and cover the entire pan tightly with heavy-duty aluminum foil for the first third of the required cooking time. Of course, times will vary according to the size of your turkey. I bought a 20lb turkey, so the foil was on for about two-hours. I adore leftovers.

Remove the foil and reduce the temperature to 350 degrees. Shingle the bacon over the entire breast and legs, overlapping the slices as you go. Brush the turkey with the diluted maple syrup and back into the oven, basting with the syrup mixture every 20-30 minutes. If you notice that the legs are getting too dark too soon, cover them loosely with foil.

At this point, the bacon will have begun rendering it's sweet and salty fat over the entire bird, anointing it with a haunting smokiness. When the bacon has reached the point that it is a crunchy carapace of, what is in fact, candied pork-belly, gently remove the bacon and reserve it to crumble over the finished bird, or chop it into bite-sized pieces and present to your guests as a homey amuse bouche. They will be grateful. When the turkey (and the dressing) has reached an internal temperature of 160 degrees, remove from the oven to a cutting board and tent with foil. A turkey can sit like this for a half-hour to forty-five minutes with no harm while you get on with the rest of it.

The Silken Gravy:

Tip the contents of the roasting pan into a strainer set into a wide-mouthed measuring cup, scraping any browned bits from the pans bottom. While the fat separates from the luscious drippings, get on with the potatoes or whatever else needs to be done. I had the very handsome Zak attend to the mashed potatoes while I did something else at this point. Carefully pour or spoon the fat off of the surface of the dripping, tipping about three tablespoons of the fat into a saucepan. Combine, over medium heat, the fat with an equal amount of flour and whisk until you have a nutty roux. Gradually add the dripping to the saucepan, whisking all the while. You may add some delicious homemade stock that you made the night before with a package of turkey-necks to your gravy at this point. Simmer and adjust the seasonings, whisking, whisking, whisking. Any juices that have accumulated on the cutting board should also be incorporated at this time.

I am not a very good carver, so, I usually leave that job to someone else. It is an honor to be asked to carve someone Else's turkey, so accept the duty as such. I think that in most cases, the hostess is so pleased to be able to share the work at this point, I believe because a few glasses of Prosecco and/or red-wine have been consumed by this time, handing a knife to someone else is a relief to say the least. Zak did a marvelous job.

A delightful feast followed with the obligatory "oohs" and "ahh's", richly complemented by Angelique's divine Mac and Cheese, Zak's delightful stuffed mirlitons (a delicacy in Louisiana), and, it goes without saying, the most marvelous company in the world. Thank you Sam, Angie and Zak for allowing me to demonstrate my love for you all by feeding you on this most wonderful of holidays. My former houseguest, but still glamorous, Toenisha Shabazz Johnson came in after work a little later and enjoyed a plate as well as a slice of Angelique's revelatory sweet potato pie. A staple of Southern holidays. It was a perfect example of what good sweet potato pie should be: not overly sweet and studded with pieces of sweet potato adding texture to each bite. Her crust was buttery and light and literally melted in your mouth. I ate the entire pie in less than two days.

Idea For Leftovers:

Turkey Shepherd's Pie!

Christmas time is a-coming, and I am planning to secure a ham with the bone removed, to stuff with a mixture of cheese grits and collard greens. This is a recipe that I came across in one of Nathalie DuPree's cookbooks. She is a marvelous woman with a real commitment to Southern food ways. She keeps her recipes deeply rooted in the past but with such a contemporary flair that one cannot call her "cornpone". More on the projected success of that ham after Christmas. And don't forget: Hoppin' John for New Year's Day! It is a firm belief that by not eating black-eyed peas on the first of the year, you will invite misery and poverty into your life to such a monstrous degree that you may never, ever recover from the ravages. It is best to eat some black-eyed peas. Don't say that you hadn't been warned.