Thanks

(This is a revised edition of an article I wrote 3 years ago. By apologies to my readers who have been with me that long, all two of you)

It’s the Thanksgiving season and I’ve been thinking about all the things I’m thankful for. The list is long and includes many food-related items. I thought I’d share at least some of the foodie thoughts with you instead of yet another recipe for stuffing and pumpkin pie. Here they are, in no particular order:

I’m thankful to my mom and dad for instilling in me a passion for good food. Sitting down to eat a home-cooked meal almost every night of my childhood and adolescence has had a profound effect on my relationship to food (and people). Helping both my parents in the kitchen made me the cook I am today. Being taken to fancy restaurants from a young age gave me an appreciation for the creative possibilities inherent in food (and fairly good table manners). All of these things have made cooking a life-long pleasure rather than a chore. Thanks Mom!

I’m thankful for local farmers. If I had to eat only foods trucked from thousands of miles away all year long, my palate would be suffering and my knowledge about the varieties of produce and meats available would be stunted. All the farmers who work so hard to provide us with fresh local fare at the farmer’s market are my heroes. Thanks Emily, Alicia, Suzanne, Mimi, Marlene and Gordon, Diane and Tom, Kevin and Anita, Carrie and Nate, Luana, Mitch, and Vern.

I’m thankful for huckleberries. There is no other fruit that you must hike out into the wilderness to obtain. Being able to get fresh air, enjoy the views, and come back with the proud badge of purple fingers plus have the makings for the most delectable pies makes huckleberries a miraculous food.

I’m thankful for garlic. What other food is so good for you and so versatile at the same time. So many foods would be lacking is not for garlic: pasta sauce, pizza, mashed potatoes, garlic bread, stir fry, ice cream (just kidding).

I’m thankful for fermentation and all the good things that come from it: alcohol in all its forms, pickles, yogurt, vinegar, chocolate, sourdough, sour cream, olives, kim chi. What would life be like without all these things?

I’m thankful for cumin. I know it’s weird to pick just one spice out of so many good choices but there’s something about cumin. It’s my go-to spice. If a dish is lacking something, a dash of cumin will often fix it. Perhaps it’s the unusual aroma from the chemical cuminaldehyde found only in cumin that makes me thankful it’s in my spice cabinet.

I’m thankful for coconut. Like cumin, coconut makes everything better. Coconut has the added benefit of making both sweet and savory dishes better. I have a hard time not putting coconut in every cookie and muffin I make and I can never turn down coconut curry if it’s on the menu. Coconut macaroons have saved me from a bad day more times than I can remember.

I’m thankful for my Global knives and Microplane graters. These are the tools I use everyday and they never fail to amaze me with their performance. My knives feel like an extension of my hand and stay sharp forever (well, not quite forever but for a long time). I’ve had them for years and they still look and perform like new. It’s always a pleasure to pick one out from the knife rack. The graters (yes, I have one of every grit) make quick work of everything from perfectly zesting only the peel of a lemon (no pith need be removed when using a Microplane) to turning Parmesan into a pile of fluff that instantly melts into whatever you put it in. Cooking wouldn’t be as much fun without them.

I’m thankful for corn (which is the most appropriate thing to be thankful for this season) in all its natural forms (I am not the least bit thankful for high fructose corn syrup or GMO corn). The list of delicious dishes made from corn seems endless: fresh corn on the cob, hot cornbread drizzled with honey, cheesy polenta, handmade tortillas, pecan pie and marshmallows (both completely dependent on corn syrup), hominy, chowder, and most importantly, popcorn. My food life would be bereft without it.

I’m thankful for my bike. I know it’s not a food but riding it allows me to burn calories in a beautiful setting so I can eat more good food and still stay reasonably healthy.

I’m thankful for cheese. I think I could live on it alone although it goes so well with bread and that it leads me to my next item.

I’m thankful for home-baked bread right out of the oven. The fact that you can combine flour, water and yeast and get something so delicious never ceases to amaze me. The variations seem endless, and when paired with all the different cheeses, the flavor combinations could keep me happy forever.

I’m thankful for chocolate. I know I mentioned it above but it deserves two billings. The way the dry crispness of chocolate transforms into creamy goodness in your mouth fascinates me. Each tiny square explodes with more complex flavors than any other food and satisfies my sweet tooth every time.

Lastly, I’m thankful that I have enough. I have enough money to afford three nutritious meals every day, while so many people in the world can barely afford one (and I have a bit left over to help those in need). I have enough land and sunshine to grow some of my own food. I have enough knowledge to transform simple foods into delicious meals. And I have enough friends and family to share in the bounty of my kitchen.

Happy Thankful Thanksgiving


Here are two recipes I’m thankful for. They contain as many of the above-mentioned foods as I could reasonable combine.

Tipsy Brownies
Makes 1 to 8 servings depending on how much willpower you have

2 oz. unsweetened chocolate
8 T salted butter
1 c sugar
2 eggs
¼ c Canadian whiskey
½ c + 1 T. flour
½ c unsweetened shredded coconut
½ t vanilla extract

Preheat oven to 350 F. Grease an 8x8 baking pan.
Melt chocolate and butter in a heavy bottomed sauce pan until just melted. Stir in sugar then beat in eggs. Beat in whiskey and vanilla. Gently stir in flour and coconut until just combined. Pour into prepared pan and bake for 20-25 min, erring on the side of underbaked for a chewy, fudge-like consistence. Cool before cutting if you can.

Gruyere Cumin Polenta
Serves 4

4 c. water
1 t salt plus more to taste
1 c. polenta
1 t. cumin seed
1 T butter
½ c. grated gruyere cheese
Fresh ground pepper to taste

Boil water in a heavy medium-sized saucepan. Add the salt and turn the heat down to medium. Slowly pour the polenta into the water while whisking constantly. Turn the heat to low. Whisk once a minute for 5 minutes. Change to a wooden spoon and continue to stir every minute or so until the mixture thickens, about 30 minutes.
Meanwhile in a dry frying pan, heat the cumin seeds over medium-high heat until they are fragrant. Transfer to a plate to cool. When they are cool, grind them in a mortar or in an herb grinder.
When the polenta is as thick as you’d like it, turn off the heat and add the butter, cheese and cumin. Season to taste with salt and pepper and serve immediately

Stuffing Makes the World Go 'Round

I picked up my locally-raised, organically-fed, free-range turkey from Mimi Fueling of Cascade Creek Farms last week. It looked as good as can be expected from a naked dead bird in a clear plastic sack. There is no doubt in my mind that once it has been roasted for a few hours, it will be gorgeous and golden on the outside and moist and tender on the inside. It will be delicious and we will all enjoy it, but in my mind, it will only be a side show to the stuffing.
Stuffing is what makes the Thanksgiving meal. Sure, candied yams are good, mashed potatoes with gravy are pretty tasty, and any kind of pie for dessert is a treat, but the meal isn’t worth fussing over if there isn’t stuffing.
I’m not sure what it is about stuffing that makes it the centerpiece of the meal for me. It doesn’t really matter what kind of stuffing it is (even those lame croutons in a bag they pass off as stuffing mix will do in a pinch) as long as there is lots of it. Two or more kinds of stuffing cooked both inside and outside of the bird (food safety be damned) and I am in heaven.
Stuffing, in the Thanksgiving sense of the word, has probably been around since we figured out how to raise birds for food production. I imagine eating chicken cooked the same way day after day got pretty boring until someone realized you could cook your side dish inside the bird at the same time. Documents about cooking from ancient Rome mention stuffing recipes to place inside all kinds of small animals, including dormice. Since then we’ve been thinking up millions of combinations of foods to stuff inside the hollow spaces we find on our cooking path.
Food cultures around the world stuff one kind of food inside another. A few examples that come to mind are ravioli, chili rellenos, and wontons. We also stuff meat from one part of an animal into another, such as sausages and haggis. Maybe it’s the combination of flavors and textures that promotes this culinary exploration. Maybe we don’t like to waste any of the bits and pieces. Or maybe, in the case of stuffing the empty cavities of animals we are going to eat with bits of dried bread and anything else we might have lying around the house, it’s that we just don’t want to waste all that space.
No ingredient can be dismissed as a possible addition to a stuffing mix. Most stuffing starts with a base of starch: white bread, corn bread, rice, or potatoes are the most common. Meats of all kinds turn up in recipes; I’ve seen liver, bacon, sausage, oysters, giblets from the turkey, and ground lamb in recipes. If you are vegetarian you can use eggs or tofu. Nuts, such as pecans or chestnuts can form the base of the stuffing or hazelnuts can add a little pizzazz. Fruits, both dried and fresh can be added, and, of course, vegetables of all kinds, but especially celery, carrots and onions. I’ve had amazing morel mushroom stuffing and stuffing with what seemed like a little bit of everything the chef could find thrown in. The liquids used to moisten the whole conglomeration go from tame chicken broth to hardcore straight bourbon whiskey, with wine and port somewhere in between.
With so many delicious possibilities for homemade stuffing, I was appalled to learn that something like 60 million families will suffer through Stove Top stuffing this year. There is too much room for improvisation, personal taste, and experimentation in stuffing to leave the making of it to some giant corporation who mass produces a flavorless impersonator. Besides, it’s really easy to make and probably costs less to make it from scratch.
Here’s the basic gist of stuffing: cut up some day old bread into cubes and let them sit out overnight or cook up some rice or diced potatoes. Dice up a selections of veggies; onions, carrots and celery are traditional but use what you have. Sauté these in some type of fat. Add anything else that sounds good like fruit, nuts or pre-cooked meat. Season with herbs of your choice (sage and thyme are traditional) and salt and pepper. Add the bread, rice or potatoes and mix well, adding enough liquid of your choice to just moisten the mixture. Stuff your bird or place the mixture in a baking dish and cook with the turkey for the last 45 minutes. If you are cooking it separately (and it is safer that way, just not as tasty), keep it covered for most of the cooking time but make sure to uncover and crisp up the top (by far the best part in my opinion) before serving.
Of course, an article about stuffing is not complete without a brief discussion about terminology. Growing up in New Jersey, I never heard of stuffing referred to as dressing. Dressing was something you put on salad or a wound. Since then, I occasionally run into someone who insists that the stuff you stuff inside a turkey is called dressing. This seems absurd. I could understand if you called gravy dressing, since it does cover or dress the turkey and mashed potatoes but there is nothing in the definition of the word dress that indicates it is something stuffed inside something else. Alas, it was the prissy Victorian who caused all these problems. The word stuffing offended their delicate sensibilities and so was replaced by the much more proper though much less accurate word dressing.
I say to hell with Victorian propriety, and please pass me the stuffing so I can have seconds.

Vicki Reich will be celebrating Thanksgiving in Sagle and will serve at least two kinds of stuffing and three kinds of pie. She’ll be the one sneaking bites of the crispy bits off all the dishes. She can be contacted at wordomouth@yahoo.com.

Vicki’s Go-To Stuffing recipe for the past 3 years
Makes enough for a 18-20 pound turkey
Adapted from The New Basics Cookbook by Julee Rosso and Sheila Luikens

2 T. butter
2 c. diced celery
2 c. diced onions
1 c. diced carrots
1 lb Italian sausage
2 c. apples, chopped
1 c toasted and skinned hazelnuts, chopped
1 c. dried cranberries
6 c. stale bread, cubed
1 t salt
1 T. fresh thyme, chopped
1 T. fresh sage, chopped
Salt and pepper to taste
1 c Port
1 c. chicken broth

Heat butter in a large skillet. Saute the celery, onions and carrots over medium low heat until softened. Transfer the vegetables to a large bowl.
Add the sausage to the skillet and cook through, breaking up the sausage into small pieces as it cooks. Transfer to the bowl with the veggies. Add the apples, nuts, and cranberries to the bowl with the veggies and sausage. Mix well. Add the bread cubes and toss. Add the herbs, salt and peper. Toss lightly. Add the port and broth. Toss until well blended.
If you are daring or are as old as I am and have lived through many years of eating stuffing cooked inside a turkey, loosely stuff the stuffing inside the turkey. Roast the turkey according to your turkey recipe. If you like your stuffing safer and crispier, place in a large baking, cover with aluminum foil and place it in the oven with the turkey for the last 45 minutes. Uncover to crisp the top during the last 15 minutes.