26 November 2009
The Fried Onions
I was out on the balcony, watching the fog come in, a whiskey in one hand and the iPod firmly screwed into my ears when it occurred to me I ought to get out the ingredients for everything to fix a very minimalist Thanksgiving dinner.
Turkey breast, check, in the oven on low heat. Yukon gold potatoes for mashing. Sweet butter, check. Cornbread fixings all aligned on the counter. Fresh green beans, got ‘em, whole milk, yep, can of mushroom soup- really should make a roué fresh, I thought and cut it with sautéed onions and real hearty baby bella mushrooms, but what the hell- and the freaking French’s fried onions.
Where are the damned onions? The 1812 Overture was thundering in my ears as I ransacked the cupboards. I swear I saw the phantom can in the pantry but it must have been a ghost of green bean casseroles past.
Damn, it is the holiday road and the great search for an open store when I get up, in search of the onions.
Last night I went back to the music and printed a couple notes of clarification, since if there was anything else I had forgotten, I definitely wanted to include it in the second-and-final last trip to the store.
First, there is the matter of the cornbread. Listen up: I used butter in my recipe, but an alert reader- I will call her “A,” to protect Alison’s privacy- rebuked me gently. I use extra virgin olive oil in all my cooking, and the nutty, slightly sweet taste did not strike me as appropriate for the cornbread. Hence, I default to butter.
That is dumb, and inauthentic, to boot. “A” reminds me that her Tennessee inlaws told her nearly thirty years ago that: “Butter has a low smoke point. Better to use Crisco (or lard if you are truly from the South). You put it in the skillet in the oven and let it heat up. When the oven is almost to the finished temp, you pour the liquid fat into the batter, stir and return to the pan.
Then bake.
Use thick pads for your hands when touching the 350-degree cast iron skillet, or else.”
From Front BC Mexico, south of San Diego, came another admonition. This is from a wonderful woman with many children and a somewhat acerbic manner derived from the same. I could see her looking at me across the miles and timezones with disappointment, but that is hardly unusual.
She called the Rapidan recipe: “one tradition, but we lazy folks love our Mrs. Cubbison’s seasoned corn bread stuffing from the package, doctored in all sorts of ways . . . sausage, celery, poultry seasoning, onions, raisins (if the mood strikes), sometimes oysters (mostly if we're on the east coast and can decent ones), butter, home-made turkey stock, apples, an occasional mushroom might wander in but most kids don't care for them so they usually don't get meandering rights (the mushrooms, not the kids), and whatever else is at hand and seems like it might make the stuffing a little more interesting. And, of course, we cook the majority of it in the turkey 'cause nothing beats the taste of stuffing from the turkey. The rest is cooked in the oven and is never as good.”
She was warming to the task, since none of this is worthy of anything without gravy. I was always of the giblet persuasion, boiling up most (but not all) of the contents of the little white plastic bag that comes in the cavity of the poor deceased bird, stripping the flesh in time off the neck and dicing it all up with the organs I could recognize once it was cooked. Then a white flour roué and the de-fatted drippings from the pan, gently stirred until thickened.
My pal shared this, and since only this day of memory and anticipation would you spend this much time in the kitchen, I thought it worthy of passing along. There is never enough gravy left over, and on the off-chance that I ever do a whole bird again, this recipe is a keeper.
Gravy, Greatest Ever
4 turkey wings (about 3 -4 pounds)
2 medium onions, peeled and quartered
1 cup water
8 cups chicken broth
2 medium carrots, cut into chunks
2 medium ribs celery, with leaves, cut into chunks
4 sprigs fresh thyme or 1 teaspoon dried
¾ cup all purpose flour
2 tablespoons butter
1 tsp freshly ground pepper
Heat oven to 400?. Have ready a large roasting pan.
Put wings in pan; add onions,. Roast 1 ¼ hours or until wings are browned. Watch 'em -- they have a way of browning up pretty quickly.
Put wings and onions in a 5- to 6-quart pot. Add water to roasting pan and stir to scrape up any brown bits on bottom. Add to pot.
Add 6 cups broth, the carrots, celery and thyme. Bring to a boil, reduce heat and simmer, uncovered, 1 ½ hours.
Remove wings. When cool, pull off skin and meat. Save meat for another use.
Strain broth into a 3-quart saucepan. Discard vegetables; skim off fat (or refrigerate over night so fat will rise to top and come off easily).
(Whisk flour into remaining 2 cups broth in saucepan until blended and smooth.
Bring broth in saucepan to a gentle boil. Whisk in flour mixture and boil 4 to 5 minutes to thicken. Stir in butter and pepper. Serve.)
This part came from the original recipe, but we don't do it, sounds icky.
OR, make broth with all 8 cups of chicken stock, use drippings from pan – stir flour into them, then add broth. This is what we do and it is divine.”
The only thing I can add to that is that you have to whisk the flour into the broth while it is cool- or fold it as a roué. Otherwise, there is the real and immediate threat of lumps. I don’t think there is any way to improve on that, and besides, I have to get out and look for some freaking French’s fried onions.
For all scattered around the wide world, have a good holiday. Think of those who are serving forward, and for whom a hot meal of any kind is a blessing. Let us be humble in the knowledge of their sacrifice, and thankful that we are not being shot at, or painfully alert to bombs on the holiday road.
Eat and drink what you will, Friday will be soon enough to repent.
Copyright 2009 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com
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