Thanks Giving

Here's a bit of a different purpose. I give thanks.

I am thankful for (in no particular order):

1. Kevin


2. Isaac


3. My friends


4. My home away from the road surrounded by trees and deer


5. Vodka soaked with lemon rinds (more on that later!)


6. Naps


7. My family


8. Snow


9. Big Bang Theory


10. My gas stove


11. Baxter


12. Bosley


13. Vacations


14. The Single Pebble


15. Warm Brie


16. The trail network in the back yard


17. Hoops and Yoyo

And, of course, there's more.

Why I'm Disappointed

I've been eating left over Thanksgiving for two days. Every meal. I ate some cold turkey for breakfast this morning. Just picked off a little piece before I bolted out the door before the Little Guy and The Boy woke up. I'm oddly okay with this.

Typically, I'm not down with leftovers. People are always saying, "Whatever-it-is is better the next day." And I think, "Not so much". I'm usually quite happy with my food the first day. Why did I put food on the plate that could have been better?  Did I forget how to season? Seriously. I don't get it.

But this week? I'm happy. I pulled all of the turkey on the carcass, and I was happy to see that there was a ton of dark meat left. The Boy is a garbage disposal for left overs--which works out really well for me, by the by. He doesn't like the dark meat though, so I knew that meant there would be more for me.

I know that sounds selfish. I am a little bit selfish, unfortunately.

I'm not sure why I'm so happy about this. Maybe it's the four bottles of wine that were left over from the party on Saturday. And yes, they were all left open, so I've been having to drink them. We wouldn't want them to go bad. That's just crazy talk.

So, why am I disappointed even though I'm wine-and-turkey-happy? I'm disappointed that I haven't figured out the Red Thai soup. And, the fact that nobody's helped me means that either:

1) Nobody is reading, so nobody wants to give me any help.
2) Nobody cares about me or my needs.
3) I will fail at my mission.

I know that left overs and a Red Thai soup recipe have very little in common. But they do have one very important thing in common.

They are what I was thinking about after that second glass of wine.

Gobblers

My friends and I have a tradition. It's called Friends' Thanksgiving, and it started when I was a junior in college. We were going home for the Thanksgiving holiday, and we decided that this holiday was about spending time sharing food with the people you love. So, we invited all of our friends to the apartment. My roommates made various things that I can't remember right now; I made my first turkey.

Now, fourteen years later (I think that's right) I made my fourteenth Friends' Thanksgiving turkey. I've hosted that other, more widely known Thanksgiving at my house, too, so I'm guessing I'm up to about twenty turkeys total for large groups. I think for only being 34, that's pretty good.

For the past couple of years, I've gotten the this-is-the-best-turkey-ever complements. So, I feel some pressure to produce a good bird now. I wish I could take the credit for it, but it's really the most dummy-proof recipe ever.

1) Brine the bird the night before. This is not a hard step. I put it in a 5 gallon bucket that used to have spackle in it. We washed it out, and now it's affectionatly called the Brining Bucket. I put about a cup of kosher salt, 1/2 a cup of brown sugar, and some all spice and peppercorn berries into it. Bring the salt and brown sugar together in some hot water, the add the all spice and pepper corns. After, put that in the bucket, put the turkey in, and then cover the rest of the turkey with cold water. Put it in the fridge over night.

2) Take the turkey out of the brine and rinse it off to get all the all spice and pepper corn that will inevitably be stuck to it.

3) Put it in a turkey bag.

4) Rub about two tablespoons of butter under the skin, right on top of the breast. I don't worry about if it's in a big lump. It's butter. It will melt.

5) Stuff some apples and onions and herbs in the turkey butt. It will like it.

6) Now, here's the key (I think). Use a thermometer. Get rid of that pop-up thing. We've all heard of carry-over. Well, that pop-up thing pops when the bird is done. If you wait for it to pop up, well, carry over will bring your turkey to over done. Set the thermometer to go off at 161. I'm not sure why that one degree. It's a WWAD (what would alton do?) thing that I do.

7) Close up your bag and put it in a 350 degree oven.

Then, you wait. This is the hard part, because I never know how long it's going to take.

You can decide once your timer goes off if you want to brown it up. I tend not to because I don't think people NEED to be eating more turkey skin and I'm not into the whole unvailing presentation part of it. So, my turkey's ugly, but it tastes yummy.

Once it comes out, leave the darn thing alone for a while. I'm talking like thirty minutes at least. It's fricken huge; it's not going to get cold. Heat up your other stuff. Make your gravy. But, for the love of Alton, leave it alone!

That's it. Next year, I promise to take pictures and to make this a more...funny?...story. Here's the nitty gritty. Next year, we'll get into the fun.

Rules

People have accused me of being "Brooke-centric". I believe there are certain rules that apply, that people know them, and that when they break them, they are giving me permission to judge them.

When you are invited to dinner at someone's home, the polite thing to do is ask the following question: "What can I bring?". If you don't ask this question you need to acknowledge something about yourself. You're a little bit rude. When my friends do this, it's okay. I still like them. In fact, it doesn't really bother me all that much because I do love to cook. But, I do judge them just a little bit.

Now, if you're a guest in someone's home, you are, oddly, not expected to bring anything. I don't know why. I guess the fact that you spent more than $10.00 on gas to visit exempts you from buying food. But, if you and your host go to the grocery store in order to feed your sorry self, then your job is to ask if you can help with the bill. But, otherwise, you're off the hook. Yeah, I know this means you might pick up the tab for vegetable oil that you'll only be having 1/4 cup of in some brownies, but it's the right thing to do. Again, I don't know why. I didn't make up the rules.

As you may have noticed previously, I believe that there are certain things that make meals more...enjoyable. They involve little rules that aren't written down. They just are. For example, the only appropriate vegetable to have when you're eating a spaghetti dinner is a salad. I mean, really, can you imagine a side of brussel sprouts with your spaghetti? That's just weird. And the only other appropriate accompaniment is garlic bread. But, you shouldn't have garlic bread with pizza. Unless it comes beforehand, like an appetizer. With cheese. Of course. Duh.

My mom and dad raised me. They did not ship me out to be raised by some sort of strange type-A cult group of wolves with strange eating rules. And, since they raised me themselves, guiding me through this crazy thing called life, you would assume that they would know the rules.

Today I invited my parents to dinner. We were going to have maple glazed salmon with a balsamic reduction, salt and pepper roasted carrots, seamed snap peas, and for dessert, popovers with pumpkin ice cream. I know. This sounds amazing and gives you pause at my brilliance. I can't take credit. The Boy came up with it. I love him.

Mom did not ask what she should bring. She always asks what she should bring. I figured something was up her sleeve. Tomorrow is the Boy's birthday. He'll be 137. So, when I called her to find out when they were coming over, I asked if she liked my dessert idea. She had already made chocolate pudding for dessert.

Let's recap. She didn't ask what would be an appropriate dessert to bring. She made something willy-nilly. Like it didn't matter to bring the meal to it's logical close. The fact that chocolate pudding was an okay ending is not the point. The point is the willy and the nilly.

Luckily, I am a level-headed person with a bit of self control. She only asked me twice if itwas okay that she brought the pudding she had made special for the Boy.

Perhaps she could hear something in my voice.

I was very smooth during the whole thing, I'm sure.

I really wanted popovers.

Red Thai?

As a teacher, I take assignments very seriously. If given one, I do try my best. It may be my sarcastic best, but it's my best.

So, now that one of my best friends has given me as assignment, I need to figure out how to do my best. And her assignment has keyed into cooking. So, now it's fun to do.

But...she's created a challenge. Create the Red Thai soup from A Single Pebble restaurant. Now, A Single Pebble is the best restaurant in Vermont, in my opinion. The chef there is amazing. One of my most favorite things in the whole world is the mock eel at this restaurant (and, my idol Alton Brown agrees with me). It is amazing. So, to consider recreating a dish from this place is daunting.

So, where do I begin?

A year ago I would have began with a trip to A Single Pebble. I would have had the soup (and the mock eel, of course) there with dinner, and then I would have gotten some as take out. I would have tasted it and tried to figure out all of the ingredients. Then, I would have tasted my creation beside another order of the soup from there (and some more mock eel). And this would have continued until I had it.

But now the Little Guy is here. So, impromptu trips to get soup an hour away is kind of hard.

So, what to do?

I have considered calling the restaurant and simply asking for the recipe. Cheating? Perhaps. But easy.

I can't do that though. It takes the fun out of the chase. It's like hiring a a cheap prostitute. So, I'm left with the question of what to do. The only thing I can think of is to try to make it from my memory and the description on the menu and just hope that it's good enough. Maybe I'll get up there and I'll get some take out. Maybe not.

What I can only hope it this. I hope that whatever it is that I do make, while it won't be the Red Thai soup, I hope it's amazing enough for her!

Awww....Pretty

Little brown meals. That's what I call it when we have chicken, corn, and potatoes. And when this happens, I will sometimes eat it off of my yellow fiesta ware plate instead of the red or purple one. Why? Because I need to punish myself for creating an ugly meal. I need to see the hidiousness through.

Today, I made something pretty. It was taco seasoning. Today we had tacos--not any sort of special, gourmet tacos, but they were pretty tacos.

The tomatoes were red, and the lettuce was green. The cheddar was white, and the beef (with that pretty seasoning) was brown. A bit of guacomole, black beans, rice, and sour cream on the tortilla shell...and I had one pretty heck of a meal.

I ate it off of a tourquois plate.