And Then We Made a Gravy
This year, I'm attending 4 separate Thanksgivings. One is being prepared by mom, as it should be. Another is with a cooking client, still another with the cousin I used to spend Thanksgiving with but distance separates us this year. And the final one happened just last week -- A Thanksgiving Potluck with friends.
The potluck was such a success that most attendees have decided to call in sick for their family get-togethers this year.
Some logistics for you: Our hosts made the bird, purchased the dessert, and offered their lovely home. The two female guests made 7 side dishes (overachievers), and the two male guests drank booze, watched television and made the same ridiculous jokes they've been making for the last few decades.
When I arrived, we checked the temperature of the bird, which was perfectly done -- cooked to an internal temperature of 165F. This would be a moist bird, indeed. The host had borrowed a recipe from Real Simple which recommended a simple glaze of molasses, butter, salt and pepper. The recipe also said something to the effect that the bird would be so moist that no gravy would be required.
Required? Like seatbelts? Glasses while driving? Gin in a martini? Such a strong, strong statement for such a small amount of effort. And of all the cooking payoff to effort ratios I can conceive, gravy might be among the highest.
Thanksgiving without gravy? I looked at the host's young child and saw a tear form. No, this wouldn't do. This wouldn't do at all.
I asked the host if it would be okay to put together a simple gravy that we could all make together without dirtying another pan. We took the turkey out of the roasting pan and set it on it's own plate to rest, covered in foil. I stuck my finger into the drippings and tasted. Ah yes, there was something about molasses, turkey fat, and excessive amounts of S&P. Outstanding.
I eyeballed how much fat was in the pan, and poured out whatever was in excess of 1/3 cup. I put the roasting pan on the burner amidst shouts of "Can you do that?", and like a surgeon requesting a scalpel, put out my hand for a whisk. As soon as there was some action in the pan, I sprinkled about 1/4 cup flour on top of the fat, and whisked away. It turned into a thick paste (a.k.a. a roux) quickly; the guests gasped. I asked for some tap water, as I was not sure if there was stock in the house. We whisked in the water slowly (about 3 to 4 cups in all), until it came to a simmer, thickened, and we were pleased with the consistency. We took the gravy off the heat, whisked in some cream, and used little bits of turkey dipped in the gravy to determine whether or not we were satisfied wtih the flavor.
It was at that point that the more inebriated of the male guests questioned whether or not we had to go into the dining room at all; couldn't we just enjoy dinner standing up in the kitchen? Our host shooed us into the dining room, and we ate until we fell into comas. A fantastic Thanksgiving meal. With Gravy.
The Most Basic Gravy
Created by The Wooden Spoon
Flavorful pan drippings
Flour
A little wine
Water or stock
Cream
Salt and pepper (if needed)
1. Determine how much gravy you want. For every 1 cup of liquid (water/stock), you'll need 1 ounce of fat (pan drippings) and 1 ounce of flour. These are measured by weight, but don't make yourself too crazy...you can do it tablespoon for tablespoon, about 2 tablespoons of fat for 1 rounded tablespoon of lightly packed flour for 1 cup of water. If you figure 1/2 cup gravy per guest, you'll be completely fine, and have a heck of a lot leftover.
2. Now that you've got your ratios, pour out whatever fat you don't need (or add more butter to have the amount you do need). Heat the pan until it begins to bubble, and whisk in the flour slowly. When it becomes a thick paste, pour in some wine (about 1/2 cup), and stir until it evaporates. Now begin adding the water, a cup at a time. Keep whisking until it thickens.
3. When the sauce is a thickness you like, add another 1/4 - 1/2 cup water (it will tighten as it cools). Add a little cream (1/4 cup), and some chopped herbs if you're in the mood. Serve with a smile.
The potluck was such a success that most attendees have decided to call in sick for their family get-togethers this year.
Some logistics for you: Our hosts made the bird, purchased the dessert, and offered their lovely home. The two female guests made 7 side dishes (overachievers), and the two male guests drank booze, watched television and made the same ridiculous jokes they've been making for the last few decades.
When I arrived, we checked the temperature of the bird, which was perfectly done -- cooked to an internal temperature of 165F. This would be a moist bird, indeed. The host had borrowed a recipe from Real Simple which recommended a simple glaze of molasses, butter, salt and pepper. The recipe also said something to the effect that the bird would be so moist that no gravy would be required.
Required? Like seatbelts? Glasses while driving? Gin in a martini? Such a strong, strong statement for such a small amount of effort. And of all the cooking payoff to effort ratios I can conceive, gravy might be among the highest.
Thanksgiving without gravy? I looked at the host's young child and saw a tear form. No, this wouldn't do. This wouldn't do at all.
I asked the host if it would be okay to put together a simple gravy that we could all make together without dirtying another pan. We took the turkey out of the roasting pan and set it on it's own plate to rest, covered in foil. I stuck my finger into the drippings and tasted. Ah yes, there was something about molasses, turkey fat, and excessive amounts of S&P. Outstanding.
I eyeballed how much fat was in the pan, and poured out whatever was in excess of 1/3 cup. I put the roasting pan on the burner amidst shouts of "Can you do that?", and like a surgeon requesting a scalpel, put out my hand for a whisk. As soon as there was some action in the pan, I sprinkled about 1/4 cup flour on top of the fat, and whisked away. It turned into a thick paste (a.k.a. a roux) quickly; the guests gasped. I asked for some tap water, as I was not sure if there was stock in the house. We whisked in the water slowly (about 3 to 4 cups in all), until it came to a simmer, thickened, and we were pleased with the consistency. We took the gravy off the heat, whisked in some cream, and used little bits of turkey dipped in the gravy to determine whether or not we were satisfied wtih the flavor.
It was at that point that the more inebriated of the male guests questioned whether or not we had to go into the dining room at all; couldn't we just enjoy dinner standing up in the kitchen? Our host shooed us into the dining room, and we ate until we fell into comas. A fantastic Thanksgiving meal. With Gravy.
The Most Basic Gravy
Created by The Wooden Spoon
Flavorful pan drippings
Flour
A little wine
Water or stock
Cream
Salt and pepper (if needed)
1. Determine how much gravy you want. For every 1 cup of liquid (water/stock), you'll need 1 ounce of fat (pan drippings) and 1 ounce of flour. These are measured by weight, but don't make yourself too crazy...you can do it tablespoon for tablespoon, about 2 tablespoons of fat for 1 rounded tablespoon of lightly packed flour for 1 cup of water. If you figure 1/2 cup gravy per guest, you'll be completely fine, and have a heck of a lot leftover.
2. Now that you've got your ratios, pour out whatever fat you don't need (or add more butter to have the amount you do need). Heat the pan until it begins to bubble, and whisk in the flour slowly. When it becomes a thick paste, pour in some wine (about 1/2 cup), and stir until it evaporates. Now begin adding the water, a cup at a time. Keep whisking until it thickens.
3. When the sauce is a thickness you like, add another 1/4 - 1/2 cup water (it will tighten as it cools). Add a little cream (1/4 cup), and some chopped herbs if you're in the mood. Serve with a smile.
posted by Allison Fishman Task at 3:12 PM
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