Gotta Have It

Sometime during my childhood, my mother found a recipe for Thanksgiving turkey that involved slow overnight roasting, a technique that held such lasting appeal in her imagination that it became an annual tradition. The night before Thanksgiving and into the wee hours, she baked pies, sliced vegetables, mixed stuffing and boiled cranberries. By 8 in the morning the feast was ready, turkey and all. By 10 a.m. it was over, and Mother was nodding with exhaustion.

After I left home, I avoided the ordeal of hosting my own Thanksgiving dinner. It seemed to me that even subtracting the all-nighter factor, it was just too much work for one cook to undertake.

Eventually, though, I was overtaken by the idea of tackling the holiday myself. Maybe it was a rite of passage, that desire to appropriate the image of the golden bird and its feast for my own home. I let Martha Stewart teach me how to roast a turkey (Mama’s was, after that long night in the oven, a bit dry), and found new ingredients to update the basics I’d learned at home. Still, there was no getting around the hours, even days, of preparation that go into the ritual meal. I loved hosting the gathering, but not enough to want to put in all that stove time.

One year, however, I had a breakthrough. Calling my friends the Monday before the holiday, I learned that no one had T-day plans. Maybe we had all been planning to order pizza, or, as I had done one college year, let Chicken in a Biskit crackers fill the “poultry” spot on the menu. Spontaneously, I found myself asking, “Is there a dish that tastes like Thanksgiving to you?” The response I loved the most came from my college roommate Susan: “Frozen peas with lots of butter. It’s not Thanksgiving without that bowl of peas.”

“So bring some peas and come on over,” I replied.

A guest list of a dozen people came together in less than an hour, each instructed to bring “the dish that it wouldn’t be Thanksgiving without.” I promised my home, the turkey and a special dish of my own.

When the day arrived, I was not disappointed. One friend had called his great-aunt in Alabama to find a vegetable recipe he remembered from childhood but had never made. Another created the splendid cranberry steamed pudding that she made every Thanksgiving to mark the countdown to fruitcake and Champagne. Whether the dishes were old or new, they captured the spirit of the holiday for us, painting it with the precise flavors of our pasts. As we went around the table, describing what we’d made and how we’d come to choose it, the room filled with the people, places and tastes we loved.

It seemed only incidental, in retrospect, that my time in the kitchen was brief. In fact, if I could produce a feast that rich and intimate myself simply by staying in the kitchen for a week, I’d happily do it. But, of course, I can’t. The heart of the holiday was in the faces and tales that filled the room.

Since that meal, my favorite Thanksgiving, I’ve found many occasions to ask, “What tastes like Thanksgiving to you?” and to marvel at answers that range from “Japanese rice with gravy” to “my grandmother’s green beans with bacon.’

Thanksgiving, after all, really isn’t about the turkey. It’s what we all bring to the table.*

(BEGIN TEXT OF INFOBOX / INFOGRAPHIC)

Roasted Root Vegetables

Serves 8 to 10

*

4 carrots, peeled and cut into 1/2-inch pieces

6 parsnips, peeled and cut into 1-inch pieces

3 rutabagas, peeled and cut into 8 wedge-shaped pieces

10 small beets (golden or red), peeled and quartered

1/4 cup plus 1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil

Salt and freshly ground pepper

7 sprigs of thyme

*

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Prepare vegetables. In large bowl, toss vegetables in olive oil. Coat thoroughly. Season with salt and pepper. Place vegetables in even layer on foil-lined sheet pan. Top with thyme sprigs. Roast for 20 minutes, then turn vegetables with metal spatula to ensure even cooking. Continue to cook until vegetables are tender and lightly browned, about 20 minutes more. Remove thyme sprigs. Serve.

The vegetables can be reheated briefly on top of stove in hot skillet with a little oil.

Mushroom Bread Pudding

Serves 12

*

2 ounces dried porcini mushrooms

11/4 cups hot water

11/4 cups whipping cream

1 cup milk

4 eggs

1 teaspoon salt

2 tablespoons butter

1/3 cup minced shallots

1 tablespoon minced garlic

1 1/2 teaspoons fresh thyme, chopped

1/2 teaspoon dried rubbed sage

2 cups fresh shiitake, porcini or chanterelle mushrooms, stemmed and sliced

2 cups Italian brown mushrooms or white button mushrooms, stemmed and sliced

Ground pepper to taste

1 small challah, sliced 3/4-inch thick and toasted

*

(Prepare all ingredients the day before you plan to serve the pudding.)

Place dried porcinis in saucepan and cover with hot water. Let stand until softened, then cook over medium heat until liquid is reduced by half. Strain liquid and set reconstituted mushrooms aside. Add cream to mushroom liquid and simmer until mixture is reduced to 11/2 cups. Combine milk, eggs and 1/2 teaspoon salt in mixing bowl. Let cool. Whisk in reduced stock mixture and set aside.

In large skillet, melt butter over medium heat. Add shallots, garlic, thyme and sage, and saute until softened. Stir in reconstituted porcinis. Add sliced mushrooms and cook until tender, 8 to 12 minutes. Season with remaining 1/2 teaspoon salt and pepper to taste.

Arrange toasted challah pieces in layer that covers bottom of 81/2x41/2x21/2-inch loaf pan. Pieces will be oddly shaped and will fit together in a sort of stone-wall pattern. They can be trimmed to fit.

Top with half the sliced mushroom mixture and hydrated porcinis. Repeat layers, ending with a third bread layer. Pour egg mixture over bread. (Loaf pan will be full. Use knife to pull sides away so that egg mixture can flow down.) Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate overnight.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Unwrap loaf pan and press bread into liquid. Cover pan with foil (tent foil, with underside buttered) and place in roasting pan. Pour enough boiling water into roasting pan to come halfway up sides of loaf pan. Bake until pudding is set and top puffed and brown, about two hours.

Judy’s Pear-Cranberry Steamed Pudding

Serves 6 to 8

*

1/4 pound dried pears

1 cup buttermilk

3 large eggs

1 ablespoon grated lemon zest

1 teaspoon vanilla

1 1/2 cups fresh cranberries, coarselychopped, plus whole cranberries for decoration

1 cup golden raisins

1 cup all-purpose white flour

1 cup fresh bread crumbs made from day-old firm white bread (3 slices)

1/2 cup sugar

1/4 cup crystallized ginger

1 teaspoon baking soda

1/2 teaspoon ground allspice

1/2 teaspoon salt

*

Lightly oil a deep 2-quart bowl or 2-quart pudding mold with lid. Place dried pears in small pan and cover with water. Bring to a simmer, cover pan and remove from heat. Let stand until softened, about 20 minutes. Transfer pears to food processor with slotted spoon. Add 1/2 cup soaking liquid and puree until smooth. In large bowl, whisk together pear puree, buttermilk, eggs, lemon zest and vanilla until smooth.

In small bowl, stir together chopped cranberries, raisins, flour, bread crumbs, sugar, ginger, baking soda, allspice and salt. Add dry ingredients to the liquid and stir until just combined.

Arrange whole cranberries in decorative pattern in bottom of bowl or pudding mold. Gently spoon batter over garnish, then add remaining batter. Cover tightly with lid or foil, securing foil with string or masking tape.

Set on rack in pot deep enough to hold bowl or mold comfortably. Add hot water to halfway up sides of mold. Bring to a simmer, reduce heat to low and cover pot. Steam for 11/2 hours, adding water to maintain level if needed.

Remove mold from pot and let sit on towel for 10 minutes. Unmold. Serve with brandy custard sauce.

Brandy Custard Sauce Makes about a cup

*

1 large egg

1 teaspoon cornstarch

2/3 cup evaporated milk

1/3 cup sugar

Pinch of salt

2 tablespoons brandy

In small nonreactive saucepan, whisk together egg and cornstarch until smooth. Whisk in evaporated milk, sugar and salt. Whisking constantly over low heat, bring mixture to a simmer; it will be frothy and thickened. Remove from heat and stir in brandy. Cool slightly. Can be made as early as 2 days in advance and refrigerated, covered. Warm gently before serving.

Braised Cabbage With Red Wine

From “Mastering the Art of French Cooking,” Julia Child, Louisette Bertholle, Simone Beck (Knopf, 1973)

Serves 8 to 10

*

1 1/4 pound chunk of bacon

1/2 cup thinly sliced carrots

1 cup sliced onions

3 tablespoons butter

2 pounds red cabbage leaves (6-7 cups), cut into 1/2-inch slices

2 cups diced tart apples

2 cloves mashed garlic

1/4 teaspoon ground bay leaf

1/8 teaspoon cloves

1/8 teaspoon nutmeg

1/2 teaspoon salt

1/8 teaspoon pepper

2 cups good, young red wine

2 cups beef stock or canned beef bouillon

24 chestnuts

Salt and pepper

*

Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Remove rind and cut bacon into strips about 11/2 inches long and 1/4 inch across. You will have about 2/3 of a cup. Simmer 10 minutes in 1 quart water. Drain. In 5- to 6-quart covered ovenproof casserole, cook bacon, carrots and onion in butter for 10 minutes without browning. Stir in cabbage leaves. When well mixed, cover and cook slowly for 10 minutes. Stir in apples, garlic, spices, wine and stock. Bring to simmer on top of stove. Cover and place in middle level of preheated oven. Regulate heat so cabbage bubbles slowly for 3 to 31/2 hours.

Meanwhile, prepare chestnuts. With sharp knife, peel a 1/8-inch strip of shell off one side of each chestnut. Set chestnuts in saucepan of cold water, boil one minute. Remove from heat. Then, with slotted spoon, take chestnuts out of water three at a time and peel shells and inner skins. Set aside chestnuts with hard-to-remove inner skins and drop them all later into boiling water for a moment. Peel one by one while chestnuts are still warm.

At end of 3 to 31/2 hours, add chestnuts to cabbage. Cover and return to oven for 1 to 11/2 hours more, or until chestnuts are tender and all liquid in casserole has been absorbed by cabbage. Season with salt and pepper if needed. If not served immediately, set aside uncovered and reheat slowly before serving.

*

Food stylist, Christine Anthony-Masterson