Thanksgiving, 2 years later

Life since the last post has been, well, life. Full, complicated, difficult, rewarding and never lacking adventure though also at times slightly bleak. . .

However - this Thanksgiving has taken me to Crystal Mountain Resort in northern Michigan with my parents, brother, and our cat Fatty. It has been a welcome break as this fall was one of the hardest in memory. Things are looking up and I suppose I do have much to be grateful for: first and foremost my health, and always my family and my friends who have truly been rockstars.

So in the holiday spirit and to get back into blogging foodie mode, a few pictures from our Thanksgiving this year:

The view of the table with drinks - we had a lush 2008 Parducci Cabernet Sauvignon (soon to be available at my mother's lovely restaurant), Toso Champagne from Argentina (great quality/price ration, very smooth and drinkable - thanks Whole Foods recommendation!) and some local St. Julian Blue Heron White for desert (also available at Ayse's Cafe and a very underrated little white in my opinion).

My plat composé

Our delicious bird

Wild rice stuffing and cranberry sauce

And a pre-dinner shot of me and my brother.

Wishing you and yours warm wishes over Thanksgiving with much to be grateful for and much good food, wine, and cheer.

Thanksgiving, Past and Future

This year’s Thanksgiving was, modesty aside, The Best Ever. Naturally I attribute that to two key factors - excellent food, for which I was partially responsible - and a healthy amount of Moet et Chandon White Star and Evolution from the Sokol Blosser vineyard in Oregon - for which I was fully responsible for. Family gatherings can be tense in the best of situation, but loosening everyone up, albeit in a reasonably civilized way, ensured that the final prep, dinner, conversation, desert, and subsequent card games all flowed smoothly if not a little hazily.

This year was the second time in my life that I made the turkey. Now cooking in my house is very daunting as everyone is an amazing cook and thus, a spot on critic. So rather then completely winging it (no pun intended) I decided to stick as closely to a recipe as possible. Naturally, that didn’t fully happen and what turned out was an improvisation of two recipes. One was for the actual brining, which I shall forever do before roasting any poultry, the second for roasting the turkey. I found both on epicurious.com, which has always proved reliable in my experience and usually has very helpful user comments.

The first step, after we bought the 13.15lb (5.9 kg) monster was to wash it thoroughly and remove giblets and organs. I then found a pot large enough to put the bird in so that it would completely submerged in the brine, plunked it in, and improvised the following brine recipe.

Rather then adding a whole three pounds of kosher salt, I added approximately 1 1/2 cups, and while we didn’t have marjoram, I used fresh rosemary instead. This was done the day before to let the Turkey soak overnight, and the whole concoction looked something like this:

The hardest past was probably washing the bird after the brine, because you really do want to do it thoroughly, but it is a large, slippery, unwieldy thing.

As to the actual bird, I decided to improvise on the Porcini Mushroom Turkey with mushroom gravy recipe with fresh baby portobello mushrooms instead of dried porcini.

What that meant was that I boiled approximately 8 ounces of the mushrooms (cleaned and sliced) and using maybe 1/4 of that for the mushroom butter that went under the skin and the rest for the gravy. Thinking back on it, 1 1/2 sticks of butter under and over the turkey’s skin is a bit much, but it made the meat unbelievably juicy.

For the actual bird, my mother had brought homemade chicken stock from her cafe, and I had saved the mushroom broth, so I combined both of those to put in the roasting pan with the bird and the fresh herbs. Luckily there had been a farmer’s market at the Corner Brewery the week before and one of the vendors and been kind enough to give me a ridiculous amount of fresh rosemary, thyme, and sage (alas no parsley or we would have had us a good old Simon and Garfunkel moment) for only five dollars.

There was extra butter, so in addition to putting it under the skin (a very intimate process not for the squeamish) and in the cavity (ditto), I put it over the skin as well instead of the olive oil the original recipe called for.

So as the bird was ‘doing its thing’ roasting in a separate roaster oven we have, I started the prep for the gravy. Again, I substituted fresh portobello’s and used regular onions for shallots. I started the gravy with a blend of the chicken and mushroom stock, and added some pan drippings later once the bird was out and tenting. The sauce was way too much for the 5 of us, however I refrigerated one part, and froze a good 2 cups of it for future use. The part initially saved was used with the last of the turkey breast, sauteed mushrooms, and extra fresh herbs to create a sort of post-Thanksgiving Fettucini Alfredo. I don’t usually much care for cream sauces, but given this had more broth and white wine in it then actual cream, it was surprisingly light and yet still onctueux.

I was told by no less than my father, one of the kindest people I know but with a highly sophisticated palate, that it was the best turkey he had ever eaten, and my mother, who has even more discerning taste buds, seconded this. It was pretty damn good, and though time consuming, surprisingly easy to make. In the future, I would roast it in a conventional oven as I think it lets the skin brown more and maybe try it with a mix of mushrooms to add even more woodsiness and richness to the flavor.

Also on the dinner menu was the wild-rice and chestnut stuffing my mother makes’ every year (unbelievably good, also time consuming but fairly straightforward). I had my dad send me the recipe the first year I cooked Thanksgiving dinner by myself, but have been unable to locate the .pdf file or the recipe online. As suggested by the title, the stuffing involves loads of wild rice and roasted chestnuts, is cooked with chicken broth and celery, flavored with fresh thyme and the rest I will leave to your imaginations. Because the bird was brined we did not stuff it, but baked the cooked stuffing.

Other sides were roasted Brussels sprouts (the only way I eat them), mashed yams, and a lovely cranberry-orange sauce whose recipe was from a girl who works at my mom’s. I’m not a huge fan of cranberry sauce, usually finding them far too sweet, but this one had no added sugar and fresh orange rind, so it had a lovely citrusy, aromatic bitterness.

For desert I made a maple-pumpkin pie, with the best crust recipe I’ve ever found, all from November’s edition of Real Simple.

I made the crust the day before and was really hesitant about rolling out. All previous crusts I’ve used have been with the “pat-in” method, and I’m really no baker. However with my mother’s help, we rolled it out evenly and it turned out flaky, not too sweet, and buttery. I think I’m going to use the recipe next time I make my caramelized onion quiche.

So as I get ready to go back to Berlin (where ironically, I cooked my first Thanksgiving dinner by myself) my brother and I are planning to have a late Thanksgiving dinner for him and some of our friends. It will also be a Festivus celebration (dorks that we are). I suspect we will substitute 2 roast chickens for the turkey as it is hard to find a reasonable sized one, and I will bring canned pumpkin, ready roasted chestnuts, maple syrup and other ingredients from the States. I also suspect we won’t make all the trimmings, but definitely the stuffing and one other veg. Either way, it should be a good time and a fantastic trip.

Food for Thought

I do not usually proselytize, but the article by Nicholas Kristof, "Cancer from the Kitchen" in last week's Times and this Yahoo features piece on toxins in food really got me thinking about focusing on all things organic and local to the extent possible.

Not easy or cheap to do, but perhaps necessary not only for environmental sustainability but also to preserve one's own health. At my mother's restaurant she tries to buy as much as possible from our local farmers' market and butchers. In a country where we are used to eating whatever produce we want, whenever we want it (strawberries in winter, sure! apples and oranges all year round, of course!) it is challenging to get accustomed to the idea that food in season might provide more limited options, but much better tasting ones.

For you local folk, Concrete Media had a great guide on how to be a locavore, a term I find a bit affected but a damn good concept not only for health and environmental reasons, but also to support our faltering economy. Plus the idea of having milk delivered in glass bottles is just so charmingly old-fashioned. . .

Some images from Ann Arbor's lovely farmers' market, Wednesdays and Saturdays :

Food and Travel, Memories and Road Trips

To me food and travel are inexplicably, deeply linked together. Whenever I go to a new city, country, region, I try to locate the local food market and wander around, hopefully finding a hole-in-the-wall eatery ordering whatever the people at the next table are eating (unless that dish happens to be still alive or a form of insect - we all have our limits), and going to restaurants my local friends (either old or freshly made that day) say is "The Best." The strategy has served me well as evidenced by many memorable dinners, conversations, and fairly few incidents of the notorious Delhi-belly. On a side-note, Google has informed me of a new Bollywood movie by the same name, one can only hope with a different interpretation of the phrase.

While eating dinner with my dad tonight, we happened to have Anthony Bourdain's No Reservations on, easily my favorite show and probably my dream job. The episode tonight was shot in Egypt, and the Bedouins Tony visited butchered a goat in his honor. It reminded me of a family trip to Turkey about 11 or 12 years ago when we went to the small town, Ulukisla, both of my parents come from. We stayed with my father's Uncle Haci, a spry 60 year old who had a Western-style toilet installed in his house for our visit, no small expense for him and hugely appreciated by my brother and me. 

Uncle Haci, his wife, my grandmother, aunt and family all went out to the vineyards owned by our family, though the grapes grown have just been used for fruit as long as any one can recall. We took the sedan we drove down in and Uncle Haci's small pick-up, which had a lovely little mewing lamb in the back. 

I remember foolishly wondering why we were traveling with an animal, but not thinking too much of it as the entire experience of being in my parent's hometown for the first time since I was 6 months old was intense. I don't think I've ever tasted anything as funny or pungent as fresh goat's milk cheese. Think a liquid tangy slightly chunky chevre. It was served by one of the numerous extended family members' we had met (cousin's cousins, great aunts and uncles galore, half the town seeming to be a relation of one sort or the another) and I would not necessarily recommend it. The yogurt of course, not Old World family reunions.

We got out to the vineyard and set up a picnic spot with blankets, various sides and breads, and beverages. Uncle Haci pulled down an increasingly panicking lamb and I realized that in fact the little lamb was going to be part of the menu du jour. After a brief foray into vegetarianism (probably as part of a teenage rebellion rather than anything remotely related to animal rights or health reasons)  I had been squeamish about meat and didn't even cook my own meat dishes at that point. 

How we change.

At the time, I remember talking a mile-a-minute to my mom in English as my dad and brother joined the menfolk to go behind the trees and do the deed, so to speak. I told her there was no way I was even touching a piece of that meat and just how unfair it was to that poor little sheep. My grandmother, aunt and great aunt quickly realized that I was becoming upset and it caused them merriment to no end. My mother hissed under her breath that this was a huge honor for them to sacrifice a lamb for us, not to mention a further financial burden, and I'm sure said something to the effect of "suck it up or shut up," of course in a far more maternal manner.

I pouted and decided that I would still take the moral high ground and seethe in silence as I watched the expertly skinned meat pieces were brought to us on the bone. My grandmother and great-aunt started cutting the meat off the bone and sauteing onions and some tomatoes in a huge pot on an open fire. 

Once all of the meat had been diced, they threw it in the pot, seasoned it only with salt and pepper and let it cook briefly. Everyone else started digging in as I eat dry bread and started contemplating just how strongly I felt for little the poor little lamb and how good that dish looked.

Of course I caved. And I have to say, it was the best lamb I ever had. 

And now I am getting ready to welcome two dear friends from France and embarking on a 2300 mile road-trip on the East Coast up to Montreal and then back down to Windsor and Detroit. We have a few choice meals planned out including Rayuela for the first-time, my DC favorite Marvins, and Sultan's Kitchen in Boston whose chef Ozcan Ozan wrote one of my favorite Turkish cookbooks with the same title. I want to treat my friends to hot dogs on Coney Island and at Ben's Chili Bowl in DC, wander Boston's Little Italy, and go back to Steve's diner at Middlebury where I spent far too much time on food that was far too good, heavy, and affordable. 

To say that I am excited would be an understatement, and I look forward to seeing some of you on the road, discovering new nooks and crannies, and hopefully even cooking for those kind enough to host. 

A bientôt!

Memories of Barbara and Turkish Macaroni with Lamb

Today I had the honor of attending a Celebration of Life event for an old family friend, who had passed away suddenly in March. 

Barbara was a remarkable woman and at the event, her friends and colleagues shared stories about just what a rich life she led. Among other things, she did many of the original illustrations at the University of Michigan's Natural History Museum, completed a PhD and worked in Women's Studies long before it became an established discipline, and raised two children as a single mom in the 1960s. 

She travelled the world, became particularly interested in Turkey and the Middle East, and was very involved with the Turkish American community in Michigan. An avid gardner, we all received seeds and planters at the celebration per her wishes, and I look forward to the flowers as well as the radishes, lettuce, and endive we'll get to enjoy on her behalf and in her honor. 

I had known Barbara all of my life, and was always touched by how she would always remember what I was up to academically or professionally, and challenged by the thought-provoking questions she would ask. 

Her family had come to eat dinner at the cafe the day after she passed, and came again this evening . While serving a table of 15 is never easy, they were a wonderful group to serve and it was inspirational to see how candidly they celebrated her life while still mourning a great loss.

Barbara would frequent my mother's restaurant and would often call and ask if we had any lamb with macaroni, her son's favorite dish. Even if we did not, it was easy enough to whip up a batch and she would walk in with her immaculately coiffed snow white hair, saucy red lipstick and shift dress, more often then now with an anecdote to share. 

I do not know the exact recipe of the dish, and have promised to not divulge cafe secrets. However, my version of it follows below. It is, like most of my favorite food, simple and comforting. 

In a heavy bottomed skillet saute about 1/2 onion of finely diced onion in olive oil until cooked through. Add about 3/4 lbs ground lamb (lamb is quite fatty, so you really shouldn't need a lot of olive oil in the skillet to cook the onions with, otherwise the dish will become too rich) and cook until the lamb in completely cooked through. Add 1 - 2 finely diced ripe tomatoes, a small spoonful of tomato paste and a small spoonful of red pepper paste, cooking until the tomatoes have wilted into the dish. Season with salt, pepper and paprika. 

Cook your desired pasta in boiling salted water until al dente, drain and return to pot, adding a generous pat of butter to melt in the pasta. We frequently use macaroni at the cafe, but I could see this dish being made with penne or fusilli, or even my favorite, orechiette.

Add the cooked ground lamb mixture to the pot, stirring well until blended through. Serve the dish with a garlic-yogurt sauce and sprinkle with maras pepper and dried mint. 

Dr. Barbara J. Bilge,  August 31, 1931 - March 2, 2009

Foodie Weekends

Food-wise, this weekend was about as good as it gets and I am feeling comfortably full sitting and writing on this chilly Sunday evening. We have the fireplace going, The Apprentice in the background (mother’s choice, not mine) a purring cat on my dad’s lap and my MacBook on mine - maybe our own Turkish-American version of a Norman Rockwell portrait? 

Friday started with me helping my dad make his amazing Adana Kebabs. I've had these kebabs in Turkey, and I can say with all objectivity that his version is by far the best. In the whole-wide world. This recipe being a highly guarded family secret I'll just tantalize you with pictures of the prep and invite you to stop by for dinner next time we are grilling. When the weather is nice, there are few better places in the world to eat than on our patio facing the woods and getting full late afternoon sun. 

 

My contribution to the evening was my highly improvised salsa fresca, enhanced by the grilled sweet peppers I had made a few evenings ago. The recipe is very easy and I change it around based on whatever ingredients are around: 

Wash, spin dry and finely chop fresh cilantro in a food processor. Empty into a large bowl. Finely chop 1/2 a sweet onion, a few cloves of garlic, and a jalapeno or two in the same processor, and empty it into the same bowl. Coarsely chop up a few over-ripe tomatoes and pulse in the food processor until it is chunky but not pureed, and add to the mixture. If the tomatoes are too ripe, then it is worth seeding them, otherwise the salsa will be too watery. If you have grilled sweet peppers, puree them in the processor and add to mixture. Add the juice of one lime, a generous dash of cumin, some extra hot pepper (either sauce or dried depending on preference), and salt and pepper to taste. 

Did I mention that the dinner went really well with Bell’s Oberon? The 2009 batch just came out and is highly drinkable. 

Saturday morning we went to the Farmers' Market which has really expanded with the warming weather and ripening crops. We grabbed breakfast at Zingermans, and I tried their new Obama'bun, which I would highly, highly recommend. It is basically a pecan danish with a load of caramel on top. Probably not the healthiest breakfast choice but a great morning sugar rush. I also got to meet the lovely lady who makes the cookies I'm so fond of (shhh....they're cheaper at the Market....and bought a jar of her dulce de leche which I am very excited to try).

That evening my mom's cafe had their monthly prix fixe dinner, featuring lamb, chicken or shrimp Adana Kebabs well as an amazing mixed-meze plate and decadent tiramisu. Again, all of these recipes are family/trade secrets but maybe these pictures will whet your appetite and encourage you to stop by the cafe. We also make a mean kir a la turque, which I developed utilizing my vast expertise in, errrm, kir tasting, and it is quite the seller. . . 

Finally Sunday evening I volunteered to cook as my German food craving got the best of me. Once in a blue moon the urge to eat a good Sauerbraten with Knoedel, Bratwurst, Kaesespaetzle, or Schnitzel appears and I can think of nothing else until it is satisfied. 

When I was 17, I lived in a village called Ruderting for a year with a German (Bavarian) host-family and attended Gymnasium. It was my first real overseas experience, away from my parents in a country where I could legally drink, and in a household where pork ruled supreme. It was only after having gained 15-lbs that I realized everything in the house was literally cooked or baked in Schmalz, i.e. lard and not the Crisco-like fat I thought it was. 

My own variation of German food is quite a bit lighter than what I ate during that year, and it was a success with my parents, both of whose palates’ are about as sophisticated and critical as they come. 

Tonight's dinner featured lemon-thyme chicken schnitzel with panko, warm German potato salad, and roasted broccoli, all served with a great Californian Merlot, dill pickles and German mustard.  

The salad was the easiest bit as I modified a recipe I found on Epicurious.com which you can find here. Living in a pork-free household, I omitted the bacon and sauteed the onions in olive oil with a sprinkle of sugar, allowing them to really caramelize and cook well. Instead of beef broth, my mom was making chicken broth, so I “borrowed” some of that, and finally, I added paprika and thyme, giving the dish a slightly woodsy taste. The salad is really good served warm and was very easy to make. 

The schnitzel was also very easy to make, but just had several steps. 

Wash, dry and marinate thinly sliced chicken breasts in the juice of one lemon, thyme, salt and a dash of olive oil, letting the chicken sit at room temperature. Set out three shallow bowls, filling the first one with a few tablespoons of flour, the second with 3 beaten eggs, and the final one with panko. The third should be the largest and deepest as the more panko coating the chicken, the better. 

Add a few dashes of salt, thyme and black pepper to the flour mixture. Finely peel and chop about a square inch of lemon rind (I used the rind of the lemon I had juiced for the marinade) and add to the panko mixture. 

Heat a heavy-bottomed skillet with olive oil in it until the oil is very hot but not smoking. I actually used the skillet I had used to cook the onions in for the potato salad without even bothering to wash it, and I think it gave the oil more depth of flavor.  

Dredge the chicken in flour, then the egg mixture and then fully cover in panko breadcrumbs. Prepare three pieces of chicken and then carefully place simultaneously in the skillet. Brown the chicken fully on one side (approximately 3-5 minutes) and carefully flip over and cook on the other side until the chicken is cooked through. 

Place the cooked chicken pieces in a baking pan, uncovered in a hot oven, and continue making the chicken until all the pieces are cooked. Serve with lemon wedges and German whole-grain mustard. 

Und so ist unser Abend gelaufen und zur Ende gekommen - ich wuensche Euch alle eine leckere Mahlzeit und viel Spass beim kochen. 

Liebe Gruesse und bis dem naechst.