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Food For Thought: On Giving Thanks

People often ask me before or after the Thanksgiving holiday if I have to do the cooking. No, I always reply, I have three lovely sisters who are excellent cooks; they give me the day off. And when I head home for the evening I am invariably handed plates of food to take with me.

In the food service business the holiday season is one of our busiest times of the year. Beginning before Thanksgiving, business will build up until the holiday, and then drop off, only to build again towards Christmas and New Year’s Eve. When an intense week comes to a screeching halt, I often find myself feeling almost hungover. Not from too much alcohol, but from being frazzled all week and finally able to relax.

Turkey Fried Rice

Serves four
2 cups turkey stock
1/2 teaspoon turmeric
1 cup long grain rice
3 tablespoons peanut oil, divided
2 eggs, whisked
1 onion, diced
1 clove garlic, minced
2 thin slices ginger, minced
1/2 cup diced cooked turkey
1/2 cup diced marinated tofu
1/2 cup broccoli florets
1/2 cup kim chi
2 tablespoons soy sauce

Combine the stock and turmeric in a small pot and bring to a boil, then add the rice and lower to a simmer. Cover the pot and simmer the rice for 18 minutes. Remove from the heat and allow to rest for 10 minutes. Meanwhile, heat two tablespoons of oil in a large skillet and quickly cook the eggs. Transfer the eggs to a plate, and after they are cool enough to handle, slice them into 1/2-inch pieces. Add the remaining tablespoon of oil to the same skillet and heat it over medium-high heat. Add the onion, garlic, and ginger; stir-fry for a minute or two, then add the turkey, tofu, and broccoli; stir-fry a couple minutes longer. Stir in the cooked rice, then the cooked and kim chi. Add the soy sauce and stir until combined.


Potato Bread

Makes one loaf
1 cup water
3 teaspoons yeast
1 tablespoon honey
1 cup whole wheat flour
1 egg
2 cups unbleached bread flour
2 teaspoons kosher salt
1 cup mashed potatoes, room temperature

Combine the water, yeast, honey, and whole-wheat flour in the bowl of an electric mixer; stir to form a batter. Allow to ferment for one hour. Add the egg, bread flour, and salt. Knead the dough on medium for about six minutes, then add the potato and knead for a few more minutes. Place the dough in a bowl at room temperature, cover it with plastic wrap and allow it to ferment for 1-1 1/2 hours. Remove the dough from the bowl and gently shape it into a loaf, then place it in a lightly oiled loaf pan and cover it with plastic wrap. Preheat an oven to 400F. Allow it to rise for one hour. Bake the bread for about 30 minutes. Remove it from the loaf pan and place it on a wire rack or towel to cool before slicing.

As I type these words, it’s the day after Thanksgiving, or as retailers and the press have come to call it, Black Friday. The flipside comes from those who refer to this day as Buy Nothing Day, in response gross American consumerism. I’ve counted myself among the latter for the past few years, but this year I intended to take it literally and not purchase a single thing for an entire day: no gas, groceries, not even a cup of coffee or the newspaper, and certainly nothing from a big-box chain.

This is what I thought as I lay in bed at eight o’clock on a chilly November morning.

I’ve been something of a worrywart my entire life, and as I lay there I also considered that, after many years of worrying (about anything, everything, and nothing at all), it hadn’t really solved anything. I tried to ascertain the difference between my needs and wants. And I came to the conclusion that, while I, like many, get by from week to week, I really have everything I need; most everything else is just a want. I also thought how rather than worrying, I should be thankful for everything I have.

Then I remembered my plan to buy nothing, and I thought of how ill-prepared I was: I should have gone grocery shopping yesterday.

I went downstairs and my two pugs jumped at my ankles as if they hadn’t seen me in months; I felt thankful to have them. My son, Isaac, was in the living room and I felt thankful, as I always do, for the relationship we have. Then I went to the kitchen, and after pouring a cup of coffee, looked in the refrigerator. Other than Thanksgiving leftovers, and a quart of milk and a smattering of a few other items, there were only condiments. A scene from the movie Fight Club came to mind. The narrator (Edward Norton) was commenting on the contents of his refrigerator: “A house full of condiments and no food, how embarrassing.” Like an auto mechanic who drives a jalopy, here I was a cook with barely any food. I really wished I had gone grocery shopping. I assessed my small pantry and tried to feel thankful for the food I did have.

Countless generations have had to make due with what food that they had, and I felt thankful that this was my choice. One of the benefits of being a professional cook is the ability generally to make something really good and interesting out of almost nothing, or at least with the simplest ingredients. After cooking turkeys and talking about turkeys and cooking and talking about more turkeys for the previous two weeks at my job, the last thing I really wanted were turkey dinner leftovers. But that’s all I had, so I made do.

Lifting the foil off one plate, I saw that I had an ample scoop of mashed potatoes. I set them on the counter to come to room temperature while I mixed together a little yeast, flour, and water for a bread starter. Potato bread is an old bread recipe, and I had always assumed that potatoes were added for texture and flavor. Then a few years ago I worked with an elderly Polish cook who was a young girl in Warsaw during the Second World War. She told me they added potatoes and even stale bread not for flavor or texture, but to make the dough go farther. Then I was reading the book Secrets of a Jewish Baker by George Greenstein. His signature recipe, not surprisingly, is rye bread. And in the recipe one of the ingredients is stale bread soaked in water; he refers to it as altus. The loaf of rye I made using his recipe was the best I’ve ever made.

I had brought home the picked-over turkey carcasses from the dinner the night prior, but my apartment-sized refrigerator is not nearly big enough to hold two turkey carcasses, even when it’s almost empty, so I left them sealed in plastic bags in the back of my pickup parked on the street. The temperature hovered around freezing all night, so I knew that wouldn’t be a problem, but I have to admit I was surprised to see that they were still there in the morning. Luckily, I had found a parking spot in front of my house, so I only minimally embarrassed my son when I retrieved the carcasses in my bathrobe.

Back in the house I put them in a large pot along with their congealed juices that lay on the bottom of the pan. After covering them with cold water, I added a halved onion and a couple smashed cloves of garlic, then put it on a flame to boil. While it heated I mixed the bread dough. The broth slowly came to a boil, melting the coagulated juices and fat, and releasing its aroma into the air. I slowed the broth to a simmer and left the dough to rise while I went to the health club for a quick swim. When I returned. the windows were steamed up and the house smelled of turkey and yeast. It reminded me of my youth coming in out of the cold to see a pot on the stove and a bowl of dough on the radiator.

I baked the bread and it was ready for lunch. I had a turkey sandwich with mayonnaise, raw onion, and cracked black pepper; the bread was still warm. That evening I cooked some rice in turkey broth, and then stir-fried it with turkey, a little tofu, and few other items from my fridge. It was delicious, and I realized I wasn’t tired of turkey after all. My son and I ate while we watched a movie.

In these uncertain times in which we live, I find that I worry more than usual, if that’s possible. And the pessimist that lives inside me, the one who subconsciously tells me that life is meant to be hard, often makes it difficult for me to give thanks for what I have. But on this day I was thankful for many things, and for this alone, this feeling of contentment, no matter how fleeting, I am truly thankful. This holiday season I hope to be thankful for all the things I have, such as food to eat, including turkey leftovers. And I have my sisters to thank for that.

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