Turkey Chili & Wine Engagement

Having squeezed the life out of the Gourmet November/2008 issue for our Thanksgiving menu, we found yet another recipe to duly dispatch of our near-to-ragged carcass: our unsuspecting turkey (shown above) was about to be turned into turkey chili! What a cozy Saturday afternoon too, just around ten of us, lazing about with wine glasses in hand with forkfuls of satisfying chili in the other. Perfectly paired reds included a Temperanillo, Sangiovese and Malbec--the white was a single unoaked Chardonnay-Viognier blend from Languedoc. Aromas of The Spice House's mulling spices with apple and peach cider further filled the room (and some of  it went down with a shot of Bourbon here and there, but more on that later) as we made another go of the festive feasting holiday.

Turkey Chili

Makes 6 to 8 servings (We doubled this by using more beans* and another can of whole tomatoes and good thing too—the 10 of us couldn’t stop eating!)

Ingredients

1 large white onion, coarsely chopped

2 bell peppers (any color), cut into 1-inch pieces

3 tablespoons vegetable oil

1 tablespoon chili powder

1 teaspoon chipotle chile powder

2 teaspoon packed brown sugar

1 (28-ounce) can whole tomatoes in juice

1 (19-ounce) can black beans, rinsed and drained

1/2 cup water

2 cups cooked turkey, cut into 1-inch pieces

*We added in a can of cannellini beans. The addition of 1 TB cumin, 1 TB garlic powder and 1 tsp or so Penzey’s chipotle powder turned out to be essential!

Preparation

Cook onion and peppers in oil in a heavy medium pot over medium heat, stirring occasionally, until golden, 12 to 15 minutes. Add spices and brown sugar and cook, stirring, until fragrant, about 1 minute. Add tomatoes with juice, breaking them up with back of a spoon, then add beans, water, and 1 teaspoon salt and simmer, covered, 15 minutes.

Stir in turkey and let stand, covered, until heated through, 5 minutes. 

We let the chili sit in the refrigerator overnight, brought our pot to room temperature the next day and let it simmer back to full heat for about an hour. Serve with shredded Mexican cheeses, sour cream, limes, tortilla chips and Fritos!

Dinner a la 1978

Was London Broil a part of your childhood on occasion, when things shifted from the everyday burger, spaghetti, mac 'n' cheese or creamed ham on toast? It certainly was for me when my Mom would throw one of these steaks into the broiler. If you grew up with that rich, meaty Bonanza-like smell that rode out of the oven like a herd of fine cattle, chances are the memory hasn't been forgotten. When Baby and I moved into London Terrace a few years ago, around dinner time it seemed like all our neighbors were making London Broil when the opening elevator door paused on certain floors to envelope us with that definite, delicious aroma. Just the other day we were so inspired to broil the steak ourselves, with some creamy instant garlic-flavored potatoes and a slowly heated side of French-style green beans from a can with butter and salt. It all came out very well, and as confirmed by my Mom, all the meat needs is a little salt and pepper when placed in the broiler for about 10 minutes for sliced medium-rare perfection. Of course, hardly satisfied with that, we used a judicious sprinkling of Penzey's nostril tingling, Chicago Steak Seasoning with garlic, Tellicherry black pepper and hickory smoke--and we heartily suggest you do too.

Sunday Meatloaf

Baby threw his back out, so he was alternately resting and sleeping this past Sunday. With not much to do apart from take care of him when he was awake, I grew bored and as I often do, I began to putter in the kitchen. We had just thawed some left over ground beef from one of our numerous meatball adventures, but hadn't decided what to do with it yet. So, I set to work to make dinner: Sunday Meatloaf with Tomato Jam for Two. For something so off the cuff, with ingredients we had on hand, it came out really well--and so did Baby, after a trip to the chiropractor Monday morning.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees

For the tomato jam:
1 28 oz. can crushed tomatoes (I had Ragu spaghetti sauce and used most of the jar)
2 garlic cloves, crushed

2 Tb olive oil

2 cloves
1/4 cup or so, honey

Freshly ground pepper, to taste

Saute the garlic in oil until golden. Add tomatoes. Simmer with cloves for about a 45 minutes (if you are using a jar of spaghetti sauce, as I did, this won't take as long). Remove from heat and add honey; stir in pepper and let thicken.

For the meatloaf:

1 lb. ground beef (we used short rib, rib eye, skirt steak meat)

About a cup of homemade bread crumbs

Roughly a 1/4 cup Old Bay Dip & Crisp seasoned bread crumbs (if you can't find this, just add more bread crumbs and some plain Old Bay seasoning)

1 egg

Several dashes of Penzey's Shallot Pepper

Freshly ground pepper, to taste

Mix the meatloaf ingredients together, form into a loaf and place into an appropriately sized baking dish, sprayed three times with fat free Pam. Glaze your meatloaf with the tomato jam and cook in the oven for about an hour.

Taking Stock

Baby borders on near obsession when it comes to making stock. His passion, I think, is wrought from a meditation on the slow simmering of a collection of ingredients overnight, a comfortable bounty that serves as a base of so many dishes and reductions--as well as a tribute to family and the things that they taught him along the way, growing up, even if he was merely observing, peeking into a pot.

For me, I've never tasted better. As Baby tirelessly teaches me patience, here, in honor of kitchen and kin, I offer the wealth of good, patient stock; a guideline and an encouragement to make several different kinds, to either be used with a sense of immediacy or to freeze and have on hand at a later time, when occasion requires.

Chicken Stock
2 lbs. chicken wings
2 rotisserie chicken carcasses (reserve the meat to make chicken soup later with noodles)
1 large onion with skin, quartered (root bottom removed)
2 large carrots, broken in half
3 ribs celery with greens, broken in half
1/2 leek, well rinsed to remove dirt
1 turnip, halved
1 parsnip broken in half
10 whole black peppercorns
Salt to taste

Place all ingredients in an 8-quart stock pot (except for salt, add at the end). Add cold water, covering ingredients by one inch. On medium low flame, bring to a simmer (never boil) and continue to simmer for at least three hours, skimming fat and foam off of top as you go. Drain through a colander to remove large pieces, strain through a fine mesh sieve to remove smaller bits. Add salt and pepper (if needed) to taste. Cover and let cool. Refrigerate overnight. The next day, remove hardened fat from the top to reveal the golden gelatinous goodness beneath. The more gelatinous the better! Stock may be reheated and used for your favorite soups, or frozen for up to three months. If space in your freezer is an issue, stock can boiled and reduced by half to be reconstituted at a later date.

Beef (or Veal/Lamb/Pork) Stock*
8 lbs. of marrow bones (beef, veal, lamb or pork bones, depending which stock you're making; leg bones are the best to use) and 1 lb of bones with meat on them (such as rib meat)
1 large onion with skin, quartered (root bottom removed)
2 large carrots, broken in half
3 ribs celery with greens, broken in half
1/2 leek, well rinsed to remove dirt
1 turnip, halved
1 parsnip broken in half
10 whole black peppercorns
Salt to taste

*If you like, for the beef stock, a tablespoon of tomato paste may also be added.

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Place bones in baking dish or cookie sheet in a single layer. Cook for approximately one hour until bones are nicely browned. Place bones in an 8-quart stock pot. Add remainder of ingredients (except for salt). Add cold water, covering ingredients by one inch. Over medium low heat, bring to a simmer, and continue to simmer for six hours, or as we do, place over lowest flame overnight. Drain, strain and refridgerate, and as with our chicken stock, proceed as you may.

For tips on a Maine Lobster Stock that I improvised, intended for a bisque, click here.

And of course, I turn to the great lady herself for a classic lobster stock, with my comments in italics:

Julia Child's Lobster Stock from The French Chef Cookbook
For about 1 cup
Lobster shell trimmings and debris (I've sauteed them in a skillet first until fragrant or put them under the broiler)
A stainless-steel or enameled pan
1/3 cup each of celery, onions, and carrots (I've used just onions, doubling the amount)
1 cup dry white wine or 3/4 cup dry white vermouth (I go for the wine)
1 bay leaf
6 sprigs parsley (I've used dried parsley)
1/2 tsp dried tarragon (Try Penzey's Shallot Pepper, which is laced with dried tarragon)

Chop the shell debris into 2-inch pieces and place in pan. Add the vegetables, wine, herbs, and water to cover. Boil slowly for 40 minutes, strain, then boil down until liquid has reduced to about 1 cup.

Praise The Pearl - Penzey's Shallot-Pepper

It does seem a little strange to me that there was a time when I didn't know about shallots, because I use them all the time now, when in need of a more rarefied onion, or when I make Michael Lomonaco's Shallot-Champagne Vinaigrette, which I often do. But back when I was in high school, the word shallot first jumped out at me somewhere around my sophmore year I think, as an ingredient listed on a tin of escargots, to be minced, and then prepared with butter and parsley in a bubbling broth. I vividly remember the night my father first brought home the striated caramel and ivory colored shells (which we still use), to be filled with the plump escargots and how my mother subsequently rushed out to the supermarket to find something called shallots.

My father got a Purple Heart in WWII and has otherwise always had an air of adventure around him, with a touch of curiosity that he has handed down to me. Like a boy who brings home a stray cat, he used to come home with such preposterousness as pomegranates or stalks of sugar cane (remember, this was the '70's in New Hampshire, we didn't know from the currently ubiquitous Pom brands or Mojitos) so we could try them and tell him what we thought. He was always encouraging me to want to know things, to try things, unlike children today who are enabled to eat only chicken fingers while texting their BFF's.

The Old Man introduced me to oysters and escargots in Canada, Duck a l'Orange in New York, and bought my first suit and pair of wingtips before I went to school abroad in London just in case I might need to appear presentable. And you know what? I did need to appear presentable; one carefree college day my friends and I skipped class to have an afternoon tea at The Ritz. We were all only about 20 years old!

At 82 years old, my father still calls himself a farmer, indeed he was brought up on a farm, but frankly he is the finest, mannered gentleman I've ever known, with the soul of an artist, his stock and trade, while at it.

Having taken the long way around, although I do think it is important to cite one's references, let's get back to the idea of the shallot and the Shallot-Pepper blend with dried tarragon that can turn a Hollandaise into a Bearnaise or add new life to Easy Mac. It's just waiting at Penzey's, purveyor of the best spices, and can be collected easily enough from the stand in Grand Central Station or by catalog, and online.

So what do I do, now that Shallot-Pepper has got me reminiscing like Proust's madeleines?

Collect my thoughts, cluttered memories and go to bed, I suppose.

At the end of an ordinary day, it's somewhat of a mix between truth and imagination that persists.