I know you are uber fascinated by my Thanksgiving trials and tribulations, Internet.
First, may I say that I finally mentioned to my mother-in-law that I am going to be making the full Thanksgiving meal. I suspect she is quite worried, considering that she has never eaten a single thing I’ve cooked in the eight+ years I’ve known her.
(This is not because she refuses to eat food I’ve prepared. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever cooked anything for her or my father in law. Maybe spaghetti sauce, once, ages ago?)
(Lest you think this is strange, let me tell you that I have only cooked two things for my own parents… Onion soup for my mother and the afore-mentioned spaghetti sauce.)
(What? Spaghetti sauce was my “specialty” when I was growing up. And my little brother loved it!)
(You would love it too, Internet. My husband and I joined forces, spaghetti-sauce-wise, and we make a mean sauce.)
(Random spaghetti photo!!!!!!!!1!1!!!!!)
(Mmmmmm…. Spaghetti sauce…..)
Anyway, back to my mother-in-law…
Of course, she is far too kind to express that concern. Instead, she says lovely things like, “Give me a call if you have ANY questions.” And “I am happy to bring something, or multiple things, or help you make dinner the day of.”
I wonder if she is in the process of researching backup turkeys?
Anyway, I am in the midst of doing a pre-Thanksgiving trial run, if you will.
Since my weekends have been swallowed up by client meetings and/or laziness on my part, I now only have weekdays left on which to cook and serve Fakesgiving. Which means that I have less time to devote to preparations. So I am only cooking things that I have never cooked before, namely:
– Stuffing
– Turkey
– Gravy
– Cranberry sauce
I got started last night. The cranberry sauce, delightfully, can be made ahead of time. So I cooked that up based on this lovely recipe from the Pioneer Woman.
Now, the recipe was very easy to follow.
But I’ll let you in on a little secret.
I’m not so good with recipes.
My husband always says, “Do exactly what the recipe says.” But sometimes, the recipe leaves out important information, in which case I am FORCED to wing it.
(With me, “winging it” rarely winds up in something edible.)
For instance, the cranberry sauce recipe basically involves putting pure maple syrup, cranberries, cranberry juice, and some other juice into a pot, bringing it to a rolling boil, and then simmering it on a lower temperature until the mixture has reduced to a thick sauce.
Easy enough, no?
NO.
First of all, you’re supposed to “add in a splash (3 tablespoons or so) of orange juice. You could also do orange zest, lemon zest, lemon juice, or anything similarly citrusy.”
What does that MEAN, Internet?
I puzzled over that direction for a looooooong time.
Do you do 3 tablespoons of juice PLUS zest? Do you do 3 tablespoons of JUST zest, no juice?
And what in the name of fluffy white kittens does “or so” mean??!?!?!
Confusing, no?
Since I had a lemon, I zested it and then added in 3 tablespoons of its juice.
I took “or so” to mean “however much juice was in the lemon, which seemed approximately 3 tablespoons, give or take.”
The other direction I had trouble with was this one: “Turn the heat down to medium low and continue cooking over lower heat for about 10 minutes, or until the juice is thick.”
Internet, after 10 minutes my juice was still thin.
After 15 minutes, still thin.
After 20 minutes…
STILL THIN.
I mean, it was getting thickER…
But it was by no means THICK. And it definitely didn’t resemble the thickness of the sauce in the Pioneer Woman’s pretty photos.
The recipe was also lacking a note that if you get pure maple syrup on or near the burner, it will catch on fire.
And then, if you try to wipe off the maple syrup that spilled next to the burner, and accidentally catch the edge of your paper towel on the burner, your paper towel will also catch on fire.
Ahem.
Anyway, here is what it looks like.
The recipe made a good amount of sauce – enough to fill a jar and a small lidded glass bowl.
You can see the jar lurking there in the background.
I tasted it and it has a pleasant cranberry taste (shocker) with lots of sweetness. You can definitely taste the maple syrup though, so if that’s not your thing… then this is not your recipe.
While I was trying valiantly to get the cranberry sauce to THICKEN, DAMMIT I was doing prep work for the turkey and the stuffing.
By the way, I’m not sure if you can tell from this highly expert photo, but the sauce thickened very well. Overnight. In the jar.
Anyway, back to the turkey.
I am using a turkey recipe from America’s Test Kitchen because I got to watch the demo on TV (it’s saved in my DVR) and because it calls for turkey parts rather than a whole turkey. Which saves me from dealing with innards and gizzards and giblets.
(Guys – I don’t even touch CHICKEN on a normal basis. The less contact I have to have with a turkey, the better.)
Plus, this recipe doesn’t call for any brining. Which, let’s admit it, seems a wee bit advanced for me.
To prep for the turkey, all I had to do was cut up three onions and some celery and carrots, and halve some garlic cloves. My big qualm with that recipe is that I was supposed to use a “medium chop” for these veggies. “Medium” seems like a pretty subjective term, no?
For the stuffing, I had to prepare the bread.
I am using this delicious-sounding recipe (also from the Pioneer Woman) for two reasons:
1. I have never eaten stuffing before, and it kind of grosses me out. But this recipe sounds pretty yumster. I mean, who doesn’t like sautéed mushrooms and Italian sausage?
2. This recipe does not call for any giblets or giblet-adjacent things. Yes, yes, I am sure they are wonderful blah blah BLECH. But I am having a hard enough time thinking about touching the turkey, let alone dealing with innards.
Anyway, I had to buy a lot of bread in order to make this recipe, even though I cut the recipe in half since it’s just me and my husband at Fakesgiving this year.
It calls for two cups each of cornbread, artisan bread, and French bread.
So I cut all the bread into one-inch cubes. (Now THAT is a direction I can understand! “Medium chop” my left eye.)
Doesn’t it look pretty?
I set it all out on a cookie sheet to “sit out for several hours or overnight, until dried out” per the recipe.
But here’s where I ran into trouble again.
Because isn’t a big pan of delicious bread sitting out on my counter going to attract bugs?
So I settled for leaving it out while I cooked the cranberry sauce, and then covering it loosely with aluminum foil, and then uncovering it again this morning.
If you look closely, you can see the cornbread snuggling with the artisan bread. Or French bread. They look pretty similar, actually.
Today I am going to have to deal with the turkey. I suspect I will have to touch it at some point, which is pre-emptively activating my gag reflex.
(Don’t you wish you were coming to my Fakesgiving dinner now?)
I am also deeply concerned because the recipe calls for “skin on, bone in” turkey breasts… And the only breasts I could find had no bones.
I am guessing I will just have to watch them very closely and monitor their temperature, as they will likely cook more quickly sans bones.
But I really wish America’s Test Kitchen had included some sort of Contingency Plan in their recipe for just this sort of development.
Bottom line… cooking is confusing, Internet. It would make me feel much better if you were to leave me your biggest cooking flubs in the comments.
I doubt it would make my mother-in-law feel better though.
Perhaps I will suggest that she down a few gin-and-tonics before arriving at my apartment on Thanksgiving Day.