It is so quiet, too quiet...

Well the fat man has sung, he's back home slipping Mrs Claus a little holiday cheer and taking all the credit for the elves hard work. Such is life, and hopefully life at home has calmed a bit and the garbage man has come to whisk away the mounds of wrapping, boxes, and toys that didn't make the cut, and your relatives are nothing more than a distant memory and some coffee rings Uncle “I Don't Use a Coaster” Ed left on the nice coffee table. Hope he enjoys his crappy thrift store ties emblazoned with “Welcome to Six Flags.” And now it is time to cobble together some meals with the leftovers.

The leftover tamales ( remind me to hide the good ones from the kids next time) pretty much take care of themselves. Little velvety pillows of corn and love made by the best tamale chef anywhere will disappear all on their own. The leftover ham and turkey are a different matter, though they can be viewed as finger food as Emily Post is dead and gone, we can combine some other things and hit most of the food groups and empty the refrigerator in doing so. Potatoes and ham, for instance were pretty much made for each other and can be resurrected as scalloped potatoes and ham. I know, I know it is actually escalloped potatoes and ham, but we called 'em scallops when I was a kid and so be it. Whatever you call them, ham, a cheesy white sauce, and potatoes are considered a delicacy in these parts, especially on a cold winter's eve. IF you happen to have some leftover pork roast hiding away, you can combine slices of the pork, slices of the ham, some pickle slices and yellow mustard, place them between two pieces of crust bread, slather with butter and heat them in a sandwich press for some fairly authentic Cuban Sandwiches. 

The turkey is pretty utilitarian and can be used in almost anything. My favorite way of using up the bits and pieces from the bird is to make a slice of toast, place it on a plate then top with a big dab of hot mash potato, then some sma

ll pieces of heated turkey meat and smother in gravy. Had a dish like that in diners and the school cafeteria, when school cafeterias cooked real food and didn't consider ketchup a vegetable. Push comes to shove you can drop the turkey bits in leftover Christmas Eve chili, or any soup, really. I've even dropped shredded turkey in with some refrieds, rolled them up in a tortilla and made turkey chimies or turkey enchiladas.

The most important device in your cooking tool box is your imagination (tempered with common sense) allowing you to visualize the leftovers, or any food for that matter as a part of a delicious whole. Develop some ideas combining leftovers, spices, and things on hand and go for it – your only tough task will be pawning all those dirty holiday plates, pots, and pans off on someone else for cleaning.   

A Simple Bowl of Chili

No matter what your mythology, whether a fat man in a red suit slides down the chimney, or an immaculately conceived baby was born in a manger or the god Saturn blessed your harvest, it is a season to celebrate. The celebration has nothing to do with the merchants trying to shore up their bottom line by twisting the story of the Magi to suit their purposes, but rather a time for friends and family, fond remembrances told around the table, the same old stories perhaps, but just as dear a the first time they were told. Food is a big part of this, it seems to bring us together, enhances the memories and makes us feel better in general – there is a reason it is called comfort food.

I was a young airman with and even younger wife when we met a wonderful family in South Dakota, the Rambos, and were taken in and virtually adopted. So are the folks living in that state, generous and caring folks, even taking in strangers for a night, as happened when my sergeant and I were stranded on a back road in a blizzard. The Rambos, and their daughter's family, the Parks accepted us into their brood and shared their stories and their love. Sadly the Rambos have passed, as has Esther Parks and the world is a bit colder for their passing. Before this becomes to maudlin, it is important to note that a very special feast was held each Christmas eve with Esther's chili-con-carne as the star of the show.

Anyone familiar with a Dakota winter will understand how warm and comforting a good bowl of chili can be on a bitter winter's night. And this was made all the better by being shared among a loving family. The chili was some of the best I have ever had and my efforts to duplicate it fall terribly short. Perhaps I lack the love Esther put into the mix, or maybe it is best eaten on a cold Christmas Eve in Rapid City to be really appreciated. Whatever the reason, I still like to make a pot of the spicy beans and beef as a tribute to Esther and to help bring on memories of one of the most wonderful giving families it has been my pleasure to meet.

So here is to you, your memories and the food that brings you comfort. I hope your holiday, whatever it is, will be filled with love, laughter, friends and family.

Requiem for a turkey

Well it's all over but the shouting, you've finally seen the back of all the relatives, and all that's left of the Thanksgiving feed is the last can of Who-Hash. Now to plop down in a comfy chair and let the healing begin so you're in one piece by the time X-mas rolls around. Tough to think of food at a time like this, but those turkeys turned out pretty nice, one started with hickory and finished with apple, the other started with apple and finished with cherry. Both came out juicy and tasty and this is a good time to recap why, and if really ambitious write it down for next year ( I am not that ambitious and besides, I cannot resist tinkering as I cook).

Slip me some skin

Edible non-rubbery skin is a good goal for any poultry project and salt is the answer, or at least part of the answer. This step does add to prep time, but salting the skin with copious amounts of kosher salt so the grains are very noticeable, covering it with some snarl wrap (aka plastic wrap, one of the devil's own tools), and leaving it in the fridge for 2 hours will bring the bird a long way down the crispy skin road. Once the time is up unwrap the turkey and rinse thoroughly to remove the salt and proceed with prep.

Fun between the membranes

Now for the really icky part, slip your fingers between the skin and the breast meat starting at the turkey ass-end and working your way towards the gobble, break the connections between the skin and the flesh. The idea is to create a stuff-able space in between the membranes so you can add stuff – what stuff, you might ask? Well, nearly anything from old gym socks to the entire contents of a lava lamp, but I'd stick to lubricants and herbage such as bacon strips and rosemary. I used both in my turkeys and they did add moisture and flavor to the bird, but by checking the “Flavor Bible” you may find other combinations that might suit your fancy, perhaps sage herb butter or vegetable oil and chopped garlic.

Get stuffed

I don't put stuffing in the bird, but the gaping cavity where the ass used to be does scream for some sort of filling and presents another chance to welcome flavor aboard the SS Rotting Carcass. I'm lucky enough to have a small forest of rosemary in the front yard and a lemon tree in the back, so my choices are obvious. If you're Hill-folk, you might be tempted to shove another animal, such as a duck up the turkey's ass and then shove a chicken up the duck's ass to boot. I'd stick to some sort of herbs and fruit personally, but experimentation is part of the process of growing as a cook so have at – bearing in mind that for all practical purposes you are serving this to fellow humans who might not care for the flavor of that smoldering “Tickle Me Elmo” that you inserted on a dare.

Hard Wood

While attempting to avoid any dick jokes, wood is important to the barbecue process and will add beautiful smokey over tones to compliment the other flavors you have forced upon the dead bird. Mesquite, the usual go to wood out here in the desert is way too bitter, so it is off on a scavenger hunt for other hard woods that won't overpower the fowl, such as hickory or oak. I used hickory chunks to lay the base of the flavor , then half way through the process switched to apple wood to bring on some sweet, and that worked well for my first bird. On the second I opted to start with the apple and then switch to cherry, which rendered a very sweet tasting flesh, quite nice in fact.

Fire it up

I use a chimney style starter to avoid having my food taste like it was brought to you by Shell Oil, and lay the coals down to provide indirect heat, that is a pile of hot coals on one side and a pile of hot coals on the other with a pan of liquid (in this case beer) in between. The pan catches drippings and the liquid instills flavor and steam to aid in moisturizing the boid. I cover the breast with a foil heat shield to slow the cooking of fore mentioned meat, which helps the dark meat get a head start while keeping the white meat moist, and who doesn't like tender moist breasts I ask? Towards the end of the process I mop the bird with some melted butter to aid in the crispification of the skin as well as the rich goodness of buttery, buttery butter.

TTFN

And here we are once again, at the very end of the tail, or Parson's Nose at it is called by our Appalachian brethren. Hopefully the information will help me to remember what I did next time, help you next Thanksgiving of if doing a turkey just for the sake of it – turkey is cheap and readily available through out the year, after all. Next we must set our eye's upon Saturnalia and try to figure out what to serve the next onslaught of relatives that will keep their mouths busy so one doesn't have to listen to all their crap. Just kidding, no really I am. I enjoy cooking and don;t get the chance to cook for groups very often so I do thank everyone for allowing me to inflict my lack of culinary skills upon them ever holiday. I'd also like to thank my grill, which even after fourteen long years still cooks like a champ.