Stuffed anything is good this time of year -- and stuffing the cooked vegetable back in its original shell makes for an especially festive treat. The blogger behind Kitchen Illiterate put it simply: "Stuffed squash is stuffed goodness."
We second that -- especially in such a vibrant, flavorful concoction. First, the squash is roasted on its own. In the meantime, you cook the stuffing on the stove, a spicy cumin-cayenne scented rice with black beans, peppers and queso fresco. Once the squash is softened, you toss in the stuffing and throw it all back into the oven for ten minutes to allow the flavors to meld together, a roasted richness permeating the entire dish.
Think it's too early to start planning Thanksgiving dinner? Think again! Nov. 26 may seem like a long way off, but for the holiday host, it's right around the corner. That's why each Tuesday until Turkey Day, we'll bring you preparation tips to ensure your Thanksgiving is as smooth as your gravy (should be).
1. Get a head count.
Now's the time to start inviting people to Thanksgiving dinner. If you're thinking about it, chances are good your friends and family are, too. So if your cousin is bringing her new boyfriend, and both sets of grandparents are coming to town, as well as your parents and siblings, you're going to need to figure out how to seat everyone at your small table with three mismatched chairs.
Getting a head count this early ensures you'll have enough time to borrow tables, chairs and whatever other furniture items you need to so that everyone can eat comfortably, and then have a place to lounge when the tryptophan-wine combo sets in. And don't forget to find out who's a vegetarian, who's allergic to nuts, and any other dietary restrictions you'll be dealing with. The last thing you want to hear as you put your orange-scented green beans with toasted almonds on the table is that your cousin's new boyfriend has a severe nut allergy.
Though Thanksgiving is yet over a month away, eager foodies have already started plotting the year's most indulgent feast. And for such mouthwatering inspiration, we thank our friends at norecipes.com for this Cinnamon Harissa Turkey recipe. Omitting gravy, Marc brined the turkey in water, brown sugar, cloves, salt and pepper before applying a rub with cinnamon, sumac, cumin, coriander and harissa to create a gloriously golden, moist and spicy-sweet bird.
Marc created an entire West Asian Thanksgiving meal last year, accompanying the heritage turkey with a Fiery Cinnamon Cranberry Sauce, Tahini Mashed Potatoes, Brussel Sprouts Caramelized with Pomegranate Molasses and more. And though we were wowed by his creativity, we wonder how far we'd be willing to stray from old family recipes.
Would you be open to shirking tradition and creating an exotic Thanksgiving meal this year? Tell us how much you're willing to deviate in the comments!
Officials at the Arkansas Game and Fish Commission absolutely refuse to talk turkey this week, thanks to a lawsuit filed by a local hunter furious with the department for canceling this year's turkey season.
Citing pending litigation, spokesman Keith Stephens declined to comment on the department's contentious decision last month to halt the hunt. "Nobody's going to talk about this," Stephens says.
According to a release issued by the commission, a close 4-3 vote determined the fate of the much-anticipated archery and firearm turkey seasons, previously slated to start this month. "I'm convinced we have a heck of a problem ... we're going to mess around and not have a spring turkey season if we don't do something," said vice-chairman Craig Campbell.
'Cooking With Pumpkins and Squash' By Brian Glover Photography by Peter Cassidy Ryland Peteres & Small -- 2008 Buy it on Amazon
Despite early fall's T-shirt weather and last-summer's-hurrah barbecues, Brian Glover's "Cooking With Pumpkins and Squash" beckoned. Although it largely consists of hot autumn colors and warming recipes, this exquisite cold-weather cookbook could not sit one week in the kitchen before we cracked.
We blame Glover's seductive prose: "Some flavors stand out as having a real affinity with squashes and pumpkins of all shapes and sizes; their nutty sweetness works well with salty tastes such as goat cheese, feta and olives..." His understanding of squash's potential as an adaptable base -- to be spiked with other bold ingredients and not merely to be devoured on its own -- intrigued us.
Though many niche cookbooks devoted to a particular ingredient can be characterized as too centric toward their subject, "Cooking With Pumpkins and Squash" reveals refreshingly complex recipes with unexpected flavors. "Light bites" recipes like Grilled Zucchini, Halloumi and Fava Beans with Tomato and Mint Dressing expertly showcase and complement the light, springy flavor of summer squash, while heartier entrées like the Pumpkin Risotto with Pancetta and Sage suit the rich, silky texture of pumpkin and butternut squash.
See what we tested and find out whether the book's worth buying after the jump.
As anybody who's ever gone camping can attest, cooking in an unfamiliar environment can be a real chore. Pre-planning meals, carefully choosing ingredients based on weight and convenience, and foraging for fresh ingredients can tax anyone's patience. Add in a forgotten spice or a broken cooking implement, and you have a recipe for misery.
Still, as hard as it can be to find oneself on the trail with insufficient foodstuffs, these miseries are nothing compared to the total annoyance of floating thousands of miles above the surface of the earth, trying to cadge together a palatable cuisine out of preserved Russian and American meats and veggies. While the space program brought us delicacies like freeze-dried ice cream and Tang, it is also responsible for sausage in a tube and irradiated bread!
But, as Astronaut Sandy Magnus demonstrates in this blog, the possibilities of space cuisine are limitless ... as long as one packs enough dehydrated sausage and sun-dried tomatoes!
There are few holiday dishes so polarizing as green bean casserole. If it was part of your usual Yuletide feast growing up, the stuff is sacrosanct and utterly essential to holiday joy. The bulk of it -- the french-cut green beans, cream of mushroom soup and French-fried onion strings -- must come blopping and clattering from cans and be baked in a casserole until it resembles a roiling green bog topped with a dry moss of frizzled onion straws. There are always seconds, and there's hardly ever any left over for a midnight refrigerator picnic.
If you didn't grow up with it skulking on the holday table, gosh darn does that stuff look ten-foot-pole nasty.
When I was growing up in Virginia, my babysitter often referred to my family as "the carpetbaggers." This wasn't all that surprising; my parents were from New England, and the folkways of rural Virginia were somewhat bizarre to them. Even so, they quickly adapted and even learned to embrace the culture of the area. Because of their zealous adoption of all things Virginia, many of our major holidays were celebrated with a huge, salty Virginia ham.
When I undertook the reverse migration from Virginia to New York, I worried that I would not be able to get hold of real Smithfield hams. Luckily, however, one of my local butchers carries them; it seems that they are a standard Italian dish on the feast day of Saint Nicholas. As the butcher rang up my sixteen pound chunk of pork, he and I had an interesting conversation about the art of cooking Virginia ham. Interestingly, many of his customers are actually scared of Smithfield ham.
In truth, this isn't really all that surprising. After all, Smithfield hams are exceedingly salty, very ugly, and take a long time to prepare. However, they are also amazingly delicious, and constitute one of the most truly American of dishes. Luckily, they are also fairly simple to cook, freeze beautifully, and pretty much all of the leftovers are delicious.
Now that Thanksgiving is behind us and the December holidays are ahead of us, but not so close that I'm feeling the panic of unbought presents and unmade cookies and undecorated house, it's time to talk about a wine that was tailor-made for this "down" week before the holiday frenzy begins, when you still have time for a bit of pre-bed reading or TV-watching while snuggled into a cozy chair with a blanket tucked around your legs. The wine is, of course, Syrah, or Shiraz, as it's known in Australia.
It used to be that you could draw at least a loose demarcation between the two styles. Syrah, originally from France with its most notable examples coming from the Northern Rhone, is more a rough-and-tumble wine: wild, spicy, and requiring age and food to appreciate its greatness. Shiraz, by contrast, is almost Port-like with its richness and velvety chocolate undertones.
Lately the lines between the two have become increasingly blurred, with more New World wines labeled "Syrah" that taste more of "Shiraz" and some vice versa, so it's harder to choose which you're in the mood for based on the label alone.
Continue reading "Syrah/Shiraz - Wine of the Week" after the jump.
A few days ago, I documented my first visit to a Pollo Vivero, or live-kill poultry place. Well, having now had the joy of dressing and eating a freshly-killed turkey, I can absolutely state the following points:
Cutting off Heads Isn't That Hard: I thought that removing the bird's feet and head would be really difficult, but it was actually easy. I used a sturdy, German-style chef's knife, located the respective joints, and sliced away. While the legs came off in one piece (each), I had to take the neck off in two pieces. I used a paring knife and reached inside the carcass to cut it closer to the torso.
Live Turkeys Don't Look Quite the Same: My turkey's torso was longer and slightly sleeker than the Butterballs that I was used to. That having been said, it was still quite meaty, and the actual process of cooking it was very much the same (minus the pop-up timer, of course).
Live Turkeys Are Yummy: The turkey tasted more or less the same as a grocery store turkey. It was slightly more succulent, but I also chalk that up to the fact that I brined it.
Live Turkeys Dry Out Easily: Unlike store-bought turkeys, which soak in a broth solution until you unwrap them, live turkeys need to be protected from drying out. I wrapped mine in moist paper towels before brining it.
Turkey Heads Are Fun: Being somewhat perverse, I held on to the turkey head and feet so I could show them to select people. Two of my sisters got in a little bit of a tiff over who got to keep them (I'm not the only weirdo in my family), until my youngest sister claimed the artist card, stating that she wanted to draw the various parts.
I have decided that I'm definitely going to go with live poultry for Christmas. Does anybody have a good recipe for pheasant?
When it comes to cranberry sauce, I've always been partial to the canned stuff. I like the shape that the can makes, and I like the simplicity of it - just crank it open and give it a couple of jiggles. However, this year, when I went to pick up the standard can, I happened to read the label and discovered that my beloved Ocean Spray is made with high fructose corn syrup. Despite those commercials that the corn refiners started running earlier in the fall, trying to convince the public that HFCS is just fine, I've been trying to avoid it. So back on the shelf went the can and I determined to make my own sauce, albeit as close in consistency to the canned version as possible.
I cooked down a bag of cranberries with some maple syrup, Meyer lemon juice and zest and some cherry cider (I would have used cranberry juice, but I didn't have any) until the berries were all popped and juicy. I then ran the whole mess through a food mill to smooth it out and get rid of the skins (I know that they are very healthy, but I wanted a can-like consistency and so they had to go). I toyed briefly with pulling out a mold (I have a few from my great-aunt) but decided that was overkill and just chilled it in a glass bowl so that you could see the bright redness.
The resulting cranberry sauce was pleasantly tangy, but with a discernable sweetness. It was still cloudier than the canned sauce and not quite as set, but I continue to be happy with the results. After a couple of days in the fridge, it's become like jam and I'm considering making more to can and give away as holiday gifts. More specific details, like measurements, after the jump.
Some people love leftovers while other people are a little unexcited by the prospect of eating the same thing for several days running. Personally, I adore not having to cook for days at a time and can happily eat plates full of turkey, stuffing and potatoes for five or six days running. The only problem I encounter is that the veggies tend to run out before everything else, leaving me with nothing more than a plate of starch and protein.
One of my mom's Thanksgiving tricks, that I'm adopting this year, is to buy a second vegetable that you don't cook on Thursday but instead save for the next day. That way, you have a fresh veg to go along side the mounds of potatoes, stuffing and turkey. If you're looking for a little vegetable inspiration, and you didn't cook up a mound of Brussels Sprouts yesterday, check out this recipe from Food+Photography.
Leftover mashed potatoes? Please allow me to direct your attention to Not Made of Money's article on what to do with your starchy surplus. Their 10 creative ideas include shepherd's pie, Thanksgiving casserole, mashed potato soup (!), mashed potato dumplings, mashed potato patties, mashed potato and egg hash, mashed potato rolls, and mashed potato and salmon croquetes. Or you could just eat them cold with a spoon in front or the fridge at 2 a.m.. Not that I do that or anything.
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When I was growing up in Virginia, my babysitter often referred to my family as "the carpetbaggers." This wasn't all that surprising; my parents were from New England, and the folkways of rural Virginia were somewhat bizarre to them. Even so, they quickly adapted and even learned to embrace the culture of the area. Because of their zealous adoption of all things Virginia, many of our major holidays were celebrated with a huge, salty Virginia ham._thumbnail.jpg "Burlap Ham")
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Now that Thanksgiving is behind us and the December holidays are ahead of us, but not so close that I'm feeling the panic of unbought presents and unmade cookies and undecorated house, it's time to talk about a wine that was tailor-made for this "down" week before the holiday frenzy begins, when you still have time for a bit of pre-bed reading or TV-watching while snuggled into a cozy chair with a blanket tucked around your legs. The wine is, of course, Syrah, or Shiraz, as it's known in Australia. .jpg)
Leftover mashed potatoes? Please allow me to direct your attention to 
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