Thanksgiving

This is the first Thanksgiving that we are eating a turkey that someone else raised. That is one of the first things I will be thankful for. The next thing will be the great friends and family that I get to share this holiday with. Why didn't we raise a turkey? Simple, we just kept waiting for it to stop raining here in Maine, but it never really did. What you have heard about turkeys being less than sensible is all true. They will stay out in their pen in driving cold rain when they could be in a nicely heated house with a foot of pine shavings. Being out in the rain wouldn't be most poultry's first choice, but you can't stop a turkey from self-destruction. One year we decided to experiment with Heritage turkeys like Bourbons and Narragansetts, old varieties. They have a richer, denser meat because they take so long to grow and we were hoping that they would be smart enough to know when to "get in, out of the rain." We ordered our heritage turkeys from Murray McMurray, the premier poultry breeder and 18 of the cutest baby turkeys arrived by mail. The minimum is 18 because that is how many it takes to generate enough warmth for them to arrive safely by mail.

The Postmistress of our small town called at 5:30 in the morning to tell us our chirping box had arrived, which she immediately placed next to the furnace.  It is a ritual to take the dogs. They get so excited! It's their job to babysit the birds for the next few weeks. The heat lights are ready, all the water containers and food bowls are filled. We are ready for the turkeys and it is only June! Who said Thanksgiving is an easy holiday?

When I decided to move across the country, my parents believed that I would quickly get over my folly of living in the Golden State and return to life in New England. Unfortunately for them, California felt like home the minute I crossed the border and I haven't looked back since. The only time I regret being so far away is at Thanksgiving.

It's all about the food and a fairly simple concept of sharing one's bounty. A day to give thanks for the good things in your life. Everyone eats too much, drinks too much, maybe says things they shouldn't, but in the end it's a holiday of inclusion. Even when I was single, I've never had to celebrate Turkey Day alone. Unlike Christmas, with its unwavering traditions, which usually include immediate family only, on Thanksgiving I've found it's "the more the merrier."

After 20 years, my parents still hope that I will return for a Thanksgiving. That they could travel here, never occurs to them. They know we're not coming, but that doesn't stop them from complaining about it. It's just too expensive and difficult. Every year travel horror stories on the news prove that it's not worth the trouble just to share turkey and cranberry sauce. Over the years, my family has come to indulge us with a Thanksgiving dinner on our early Fall sojourns East. Believe me, it tastes just as good in late October. They pull out all the stops and never fail to include the one item I still sorely miss – my mother's meat stuffing.

2 golden delicious apples chopped (2 1/2 cups)
1½ cups cranberries, coarsely chopped
3/4 cup light brown sugar
1/2 cup golden raisins
1/2 medium onion, minced
1 tablespoon crystalized ginger
1 tablespoon yellow mustard seeds
2 medium garlic cloves, minced
1 teaspoon lemon zest
1 teaspoon curry powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/8 teaspoon cayenne pepper

Mix all ingredients in medium saucepan.  Bring to boil. Cover and simmer, stirring occasionally until apples tender and most liquid absorbed (about 30 minutes).

Cool to room temperature. Jar, and refrigerate for up to 2 weeks.

Forget about Thanksgiving dinner. I can’t wait until the day after Thanksgiving for leftovers. When else during the year can you look forward to turkey soup, turkey chopped liver, smoked turkey sandwiches, and above all turkey hash in a single day? All this month, on www.barbecuebible.com, we’ve been telling you how to cook turkey on the grill. Make sure you manage to squirrel away a pound or so of the cooked turkey meat for hash.

Our word hash comes from the French verb hacher, "to chop." (Yeah, it’s the same etymological root as that chopping device favored by George Washington, the hatchet.) Hash originated as a way to use up leftovers, but it now turns up not just at hash houses (a nickname for diners) but at high-falutin’ restaurants from coast to coast.

The most common version of hash contains corned beef and potatoes, but you can make hash with an almost endless variety of ingredients. Rural New Englanders combined corned beef, potatoes, and beets to make red flannel hash. In seafaring communities it was common to find salt cod and fish hash. Hachis parmentier, garlicky chopped lamb and potatoes, is classic comfort food in France.