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With Thanksgiving looming in the future, thought this might be a timely topic. What rituals did your family have that you still carry on today?
For many years, on ev'ry Thanksgiving eve, I would watch my parents go through the their yearly ritual of getting the thawed bird out of the "icebox" (as my Pappy called it) and soaking it in a sink full of ice water before pulling out the neck and the little packet filled with turkey innards. Once that part was accomplished, my father basically took over as commander-in-chief. He would set a ginormous pot of water on the stove, add in chunks of onion, salt and pepper, turkey giblets and, most importantly, the turkey neck, and let it come to a boil. Once it was all done cooking, he'd get out his food grinder that he got from his grandfather in Germany, and set about grind the onions and giblets into basically pate.
He'd get out my Mom's biggest mixing bowl and dump Pepperidge Farm stuffing into it, then he'd chop up more onions and throw them into the bowl, the add the pate he had made. Next came an egg, various seasonings, a bit of milk and some butter. He'd use his hands to get the whole conglomeration mixed together (until his arthritis got too bad and then I took over the mixing part) then he'd put little pats of butter all over the top and pour in the broth from the pot he'd cooked the onions and giblets in. He'd finish it off by planting the turkey neck right on top then shroud the whole thing in plastic wrap and foil.
Next morning, usually about 6:00 AM, he'd be back out in the kitchen, the turkey propped upright in the sink with its neck opening wide open. He'd smear the insides with squeeze margarine (had to be Parkay), then pull the stuffing out of the fridge and set about filling in the turkey's insides with it. Then he'd set it in his favorite oval roasting pan, you know the kind, either black or blue with white flecks, fill whatever space was available around the bird with dressing, layer in some more onions and then add a can of chicken stock. Into the oven the turkey would go, baking for hours and filling the house with a wonderful aroma. He'd pull it out about every hour and check it and, more importantly, baste it.
When it was done, the skin was a medium golden brown and slightly crispy and the turkey itself juicy and deeelish!!!
My Pop's been gone for 21 years now, but I still carry on his traditions with his Thanksgiving ritual. I still use my dad's original recipe as a guide, but I've made a few alterations along the way that the old man would likely approve of. I still cook down the onions and giblets and grind them, but I also like to add sausage to the mix (Swaggerty's, a brand I've only been able to find in a few places is fantastic!), as well as some chopped parsley, a bit of fresh oregano, bacon (yum) and finely chopped green pepper and celery. When it all comes together and you stuff it inside your bird and it bakes, it takes me back to being a kid again...
For many years, on ev'ry Thanksgiving eve, I would watch my parents go through the their yearly ritual of getting the thawed bird out of the "icebox" (as my Pappy called it) and soaking it in a sink full of ice water before pulling out the neck and the little packet filled with turkey innards. Once that part was accomplished, my father basically took over as commander-in-chief. He would set a ginormous pot of water on the stove, add in chunks of onion, salt and pepper, turkey giblets and, most importantly, the turkey neck, and let it come to a boil. Once it was all done cooking, he'd get out his food grinder that he got from his grandfather in Germany, and set about grind the onions and giblets into basically pate.
He'd get out my Mom's biggest mixing bowl and dump Pepperidge Farm stuffing into it, then he'd chop up more onions and throw them into the bowl, the add the pate he had made. Next came an egg, various seasonings, a bit of milk and some butter. He'd use his hands to get the whole conglomeration mixed together (until his arthritis got too bad and then I took over the mixing part) then he'd put little pats of butter all over the top and pour in the broth from the pot he'd cooked the onions and giblets in. He'd finish it off by planting the turkey neck right on top then shroud the whole thing in plastic wrap and foil.
Next morning, usually about 6:00 AM, he'd be back out in the kitchen, the turkey propped upright in the sink with its neck opening wide open. He'd smear the insides with squeeze margarine (had to be Parkay), then pull the stuffing out of the fridge and set about filling in the turkey's insides with it. Then he'd set it in his favorite oval roasting pan, you know the kind, either black or blue with white flecks, fill whatever space was available around the bird with dressing, layer in some more onions and then add a can of chicken stock. Into the oven the turkey would go, baking for hours and filling the house with a wonderful aroma. He'd pull it out about every hour and check it and, more importantly, baste it.
When it was done, the skin was a medium golden brown and slightly crispy and the turkey itself juicy and deeelish!!!
My Pop's been gone for 21 years now, but I still carry on his traditions with his Thanksgiving ritual. I still use my dad's original recipe as a guide, but I've made a few alterations along the way that the old man would likely approve of. I still cook down the onions and giblets and grind them, but I also like to add sausage to the mix (Swaggerty's, a brand I've only been able to find in a few places is fantastic!), as well as some chopped parsley, a bit of fresh oregano, bacon (yum) and finely chopped green pepper and celery. When it all comes together and you stuff it inside your bird and it bakes, it takes me back to being a kid again...
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