Turkey Two Ways: Resurrect Your Thanksgiving Leftovers with Salad and Stock

There are a couple things the United States of America can shamelessly offer to the world, and no, it’s not regime change and tax evasion. I’m talking turkey and Thanksgiving.

En repos

Back in the early days of the separatist American enclave, a band of fresh-off-the-boat religious zealots invited over their brown neighbors to toast a wondrous harvest. Corn, turkey, cranberries, and other assorted goodies were passed around in thanks, and a foundation myth was born.

Pesky facts are irritatingly truculent, and it seems the record contradicts almost every alleged component of that first Thanksgiving dinner. They probably ate deer (not turkey), the natives were likely crashing the party, and the mythical Indian leader, Squanto, rather than being the heart of the party, was actually a former slave of the English who had lost his entire people to small pox. It’s entirely unclear what he would have had to be thankful about. But why sully a good story?

Fast forward almost 400 years, and Thanksgiving is now woven into the fabric of American life. The holiday is observed by almost everybody (some Native American and Latino groups, understandably, continue to object), resulting in a flurry of consumerism and a veritable churning of human movement.

The American Automobile Association estimated that almost 51 million Americans would drive 50 miles or more for Thanksgiving in 2017. That’s equivalent to one in six Americans. Traffic is, indeed, diabolical.

It’s not just the prospect of a home-cooked meal and lounging on some far-flung couch that motivates so many millions of people to schlep this hard. As a hardline advocate of the holiday, I offer this in motivation: Thanksgiving is entirely secular – Jews, Muslims, Christians, Rastas, and the followers of Festivus are all invited. Families complicated by the impositions of religion should feel no need to disinvite apostates or interlopers. Everyone – as the yard sign intones – is welcome. A contingent factor, is that, despite its foundational origins, Thanksgiving does not enjoin its celebrants to partake in an orgy of patriotism.

The interplay of these two currents means that an authentic Thanksgiving meal does not require standing for the flag, or kneeling for the cross. In these ginger-tinged days, that in itself is something to be thankful for.

Overlay these inclusive foundations with the heart-warming pull of family, food, and the imperative of “home”, and there is a compelling, warm glow to the whole phenomenon.

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In my particular Romanian-Filipino-South-African-American family, Thanksgiving requires the presence of a definite abundance of food. But then an over-supply of calories is the quintessence of ‘Murikanism.

At some point I must have mentioned to the mater familias my penchant for making stock. And so, each year I am passed the Turkey carcass, carefully stowed in a Ziploc bag, to be spirited away for the making of golden nectar. This year, I was also given half a kilogram of leftover turkey.

I present to you now, two fail safe methodologies that will ensure that you don’t waste an obscene amount of food. The second recipe has the added benefit of injecting into meals to come, the sweet memory and taste of Thanksgiving. We will ensure that this bird did not die in vain.

Turkey Salad

This is all rather simple. Quantities are inexact, as it’s unclear how much leftover turkey you may have. Be sensible with the mayo. I had quite a bit of meat (more than half a kilo), so I went large.

The bird did not die in vain

Ingredients:

Leftover cooked turkey meat

Carrots, small dice

Celery, small dice

Good mayonnaise (Hellman’s mayonnaise is good mayonnaise)

Good Dijon mustard

Sherry vinegar

Apple cider vinegar

Methodology:

Small dice your veg using the cunning method elaborated elsewhere on this blog.

In a prepping bowl, whisk together 10 tablespoons of mayo with four tablespoons of Dijon mustard. To this wondrous mélange, add two tablespoons of sherry vinegar, followed by two tablespoons of apple cider vinegar. Whisk it about, taste. Wince at the spectacular tang of goodness. Add salt and pepper to taste.

Pitch in the vegetables. Mix.

Tang-oh!

Now pick the flesh from the bird. Once you’ve done a decent job of cleaning off the edible bits (keep the bones, cartilage and other tidbits for the stock), chop or shred the flesh on a cutting board. One wants to be able to spread/arrange the resulting “salad” on toast, so make sure your turkey pieces are small enough for that task.

Mix the turkey in with the mayo-vegetable mix. Turn it over a good few times to ensure everything is evenly coated and permeated.

Glory, Glory, Glory!

Spread it on good toast. Sit down somewhere quiet, and be thankful.

(Obviously, stow it all in the fridge, and enjoy it all in the coming days… It gets better).

Stock is wonderful. Stock is joy.

Towers of Love

You can freeze it into ice cubes, pints, whatever. There’s nothing quite like a good poultry stock to enliven a dish with its symphony of warming flavors. And the homemade stuff is infinitely better than what you pick up at the supermarket.

This recipe is all the more satisfying, as it generally only requires a quick rummage around the back of the fridge to locate the ingredients, and one feels positively virtuous for transforming what would otherwise be a medley of waste into culinary gold.

Ingredients:

An onion, roughly chopped into quarters or so.

A few stalks of celery, chopped into one-inch pieces.

A couple of large carrots, cut into chunks.

Some herbs of the field (a sprig of rosemary, thyme, a bay leaf or two).

A few tomatoes

A turkey carcass

Equipment:

Being well-equipped is quite critical for making stock. With a bird as large as a turkey, you’re likely to make quite a mess if you don’t have the right gear.

You will definitely need a large stock pot. We have one with a built-in colander which is a cunning innovation for separating the bits you want to stay in the stock (veg) from those you know you will eventually throw out (bones).

I also use my trusty food mill to puree the vegetables at the very end. This should be considered optional though.

Bring it:

Into the base of the stock pot, toss the veg and herbs with some olive oil, and fry it up for a good few minutes. Wait for the onion to begin to color, and the full constellation of herbal goodness to begin permeating the kitchen.

Breathe, and you will smell that wonder!

Now lower your colander (if you have one) into the pot, and toss in the bird.

Fill the pot with sufficient water to cover the carcass.

At this point I throw in some whole peppercorns and coriander seeds.

Cover the pot, turn up the heat, and bring the whole thing to a boil.

It's all happening here

Thereafter, push down any bones that may be protruding above the surface, set the lid slightly off center, and turn down the heat. You’re looking for a vigorous simmer.

Make a mental note of the position of the meniscus. Ultimately you want the liquid to evaporate by about a third. Now leave it be. Perhaps do some vigorous movements to offset the lingering effects of Thanksgiving.

Leave it some more. We’re talking many hours here. As many as you’re willing to give. I’d say, at a minimum, five, but ideally seven or more.

Having led a productive life for hours, return to your stock vessel. The air should now be thick with the sweet scent of sweet, golden turkey juice, and sickly children from adjoining towns are likely lying on the couch whimpering for soup.

Lift the colander with the carcass from the pot (be careful not to make a massive mess at this point… you may want to enlist another pair of hands). Let it drain over the pot for as long as your arms will hold, then move it from the stove and place it into a large mixing bowl. 

Now attack the carcass with a wooden spoon. Try to squeeze out all the liquid it still holds. I like to think, but have no idea if its true, that these extracted juices are the most flavorful.

Having extracted all the good stuff. Thank the bird, and toss what remains in the colander in the trash (or give it to the dog [no bones tho]).

Now use a slotted spoon to remove the herbs from the pot. Toss them in the rubbish bin too.

Now use the slotted spoon to retrieve the vegetables from the stock, and put them through the food mill (I suppose you could use a hand blender, or just push them through a sieve with a fork). Return the pureed vegetables and other juices to the stock pot.

Taste the resulting awesomeness. It may need a little salt (remember you can always add salt to later incarnations of the meals to come). Hopefully, by now, you have a wonderful golden delicious stock, possessed of healing and flavoring powers alike. Ah...

Give me your tired, your poor, 

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. 

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, 

I lift my lamp beside the golden door!

Indeed!