Turkey Again?

As the peak of Christmas season passes we can all wind down and enjoy the fridge full of leftovers, right? I like this idea for leftover turkey from The Times, of December 18, 1939

Little Turkey Puddings.
Chop up the white meat from a cooked turkey and season it to taste. Add two eggs beaten up with two tablespoons of cream and a few breadcrumbs. Mix well together and flavour lightly with salt and cayenne. Put the mixture into buttered fireproof cups, and steam for about 45 minutes. Hand a good Béchamel sauce, well seasoned, with finely chopped. These puddings can be turned out if preferred.
Cold turkey is excellent served with a salad of equal quantities of celeriac and Jerusalem artichokes boiled separately, drained, sliced and dressed with mayonnaise. Large brazil nuts shelled and thinly sliced may be added with advantage.

Today is also the ‘Second Day of Christmas’. If you are confused about the naming of the days, you can read my interpretation http://theoldfoodie.blogspot.com/2007/12/first-day-of-christmas.htmlhere.

A few years ago I wrote a post for each of the Twelve Days of Christmas, inspired by the old song. Here are the links:
First Day of Christmas
Second Day of Christmas
Third Day of Christmas
Fourth Day of Christmas
Fifth Day of Christmas
Sixth Day of Christmas
Seventh Day of Christmas
Eighth Day of Christmas
Ninth Day of Christmas
Tenth Day of Christmas
Eleventh Day of Christmas
Twelfth Day of Christmas


Quotation for the Day.

They sat down at tables that well might have groaned, even howled, such was the weight that they carried.
Martha McCullough-Williams.

The English Art of Cookery.

I have a different sort of ‘on this day’ food story for you today. October 1st is an anniversary, of sorts, of The English Art of Cookery, by Richard Briggs, which was published in London in 1788. I say ‘of sorts’ because the actual publication date is usually made much of, but in this book, I like it that the author signed the preface on October 1, 1788, at the Temple Coffee-House. I like it precisely because I can hear his sigh of relief as he signed off on his work.

I like the preface itself too, for its wonderful tone of proud humility! Here it is:

Having employed much of my Life in the Practice of Cookery in all its Branches, I presume to offer the following Sheets to the Public, in the hope that they will find the Directions and Receipts more intelligible than in most Books of the Kind. I have bestowed every Pains to render them easily practicable, and adapted to the Capacities of those who may be ordered to use them. To waste Language and high Terms on such Subjects, appears to me to render the Art of Cookery embarrassing, and to throw Difficulties in the Way of the Learner – nor can the Reader reasonably expect any superfluous Embellishments of Stile from one whose Habits of Life have been active, and not studious.

The Errors and Imperfections of former Treatises first suggested to me that a Performance like the following would be acceptable to the Public. In one Article, that of trussing Poultry, I have endeavoured to give particular and useful Directions, because no Book of its Kind has contained such, that Subject having been universally overlooked by them – and in this, as well as in other branches of Cookery, I hope the Reader will find much Improvement, and many useful Hints. The Contents I have endeavoured to render as complete as possible, that the Learner may have immediate Recourse to whatever Article may be wanted.

Aware, however, of the Difficulty of my Talk, I submit this Performance, with Deference and Respect, as I am conscious that Errors will creep into the best Performances, and that the only Merit I can claim is, that of having corrected the Mistakes of former Works, and added the most useful Improvements derived from my own Practice and Experience.

So, what of his instructions on ‘trussing Poultry’ of which the author is so proud? Here is the section on trussing Turkies for those of you planning to update your skill in that area, before Thanksgiving.

TURKIES.

After they are properly picked, break the leg-bone close to the foot, and put it on a hook fastened against a wall, and draw out the strings from the thigh; cut the neck off close to the back, but mind and leave the crop skin long enough to turn over to the back, take out the crop, and with your middle-finger loosen the liver and gut at the throat-end; cut off the vent and take out the gut, pull out the gizzard with a crooked sharp-pointed iron, and the liver will follow, but be careful you do not break the gall, wipe the inside out clean with a wet cloth, then with a large knife cut the breast-bone on each side close to the back through, and draw the legs close to the crops, put a cloth on the breast, and beat the high-bone down with a rolling-pin till it lays flat. When you truss it for boiling cut the legs off, and put your middle-finger in the inside and raise the skin of the legs and put them under the apron of the turkey, put a skewer in the joint of the wing and the middle joint of the leg, and run it through the body and the other leg and wing, put the liver and gizzard in the pinions, having first opened the gizzard and taken out the filth and the gall of the liver, and turn the small end of the pinion on the back; tie a packthread over the ends of the legs to keep them in their places; for roasting leave the legs on, put a skewer in the joint of the wing, put the legs close up, and put the skewer through the middle of the leg and body body, and so at the other side put another skewer in at the small part of the leg; put it close on the outside of the sidesman, and put the skewer through, and the fame on the other fide, put in the liver and gizzard in the pinion, and turn the point of the pinion on the back, then put another skewer through the body of the turkey close above the pinions.

That liver that you pull out of the turkey must not go to waste, of course. Here is an idea from the book:

Livers.
Take six large fowl livers and one turkey liver; pick out the galls and throw them into cold water; take the six livers and put them into a stew-pan, with half a pint of gravy, a gill of fresh mushrooms cut small, six cocks-combs or stones, a few truffles boiled, a spoonful of ketchup, a little pepper and salt, a piece of butter mixed with flour as big as a chestnut, cover them and stew them for fifteen minutes; butter a piece of paper, wrap the turkey’s liver in it, and broil it of a fine brown; take off the paper, put it in the middle of the dish, the stewed livers round it, pour the sauce over all, and garnish with lemon and beetroot.

Quotation for the Day.

“Sorry, I don’t do offal.”
Jamie Oliver.

Turn of the Century Turkey.

Tonight, as those of you with any real or wished-for Scottish heritage are aware, is the anniversary of the birth of the famous Scottish poet, Robert Burns. We have discussed the essential elements of a traditional Burns Night dinner – haggis and all – in a previous post, so may I refer you to the details HERE? January 25 also happens to be the birth anniversary of Virginia Woolf, which we have also covered in a blog post on this day in a previous year (HERE) .

We are able to maintain the literary theme for January 25 thanks to the wonderful Jane Austen. Miss Austen, at home in Steventon, wrote one of her many letters to her sister Cassandra on this day in 1801.

Steventon: Sunday (January 25).

I dare say you will spend a very pleasant three weeks in town. I hope you will see everything worthy of notice, from the Opera House to Henry's office in Cleveland Court; and I shall expect you to lay in a stock of intelligence that may procure me amusement for a twelvemonth to come. You will have a turkey from Steventon while you are there, and pray note down how many full courses of exquisite dishes M. Halavant converts it into.

The cook in question - M. Halavant - was apparently French, so perhaps was expected to have a more extensive range of turkey recipes than English guests were used to? I thought it might be interesting to see what were the suggestions for turkey in English cookbooks of the time, and chose at random The Complete British Cook, by Mary Holland, published in 1800.

The author notes in the text that “For a turkey, good gravy in the dish, and either bread or onion sauce in a bason, or both” are appropriate sauces, and also that ‘portable soup’ cakes are useful in the making of make gravy for turkey or fowl. As far as specific recipes for turkey are concerned there are only slim pickings in this particular book: there is a single recipe for a turkey sauce (given below), a recipe for a liver ragout which includes turkey livers, and very elementary instructions on how to boil and stew the bird.


[To Boil] Turkey, Fowl, Goose, Duck, &c.
Poultry are best boiled by themselves, and in a good deal of water; scum the pot clean, and you need not be afraid of their going to table of bad colour. A large turkey, with a force-meat in its craw, will take two hours; one without, an hour and a half; a hen turkey, three quarters of an hour, a large fowl, forty minutes; a small one, half an hour; a large chicken, twenty minutes; and a small one a quarter of an hour; a full grown goose salted, an hour and a half’ a large duck, near an hour.


[To Stew] a Turkey or Fowl.
Take a turkey or fowl, put into a sauce-pan or pot, with sufficient quantity of gravy or good broth; a bunch of celery cut small, and a muslin rag, filled with mace, pepper, and all-spice, tied loose, with an onion, and a sprig of thyme; then these have stewed softly till enough, take up the turkey or fowl; thicken the liquor it was stewed in with butter and flour; and having dished the turkey, or fowl, pour the sauce into the dish.


Oyster Sauce for boiled Turkey, Fowls, or any white Meat.
Open a pint of large oysters and just scald them, strain the liquor through a sieve, wash an beard them, put into a stewpan, and pour the liquor from the settlings in, put in half a lemon, a piece of butter mixed with flour, a quarter of a pound of butter, and a gill of cream, boil it gently till it is thick and smooth; take out the lemon and squeeze the juice in, stir it round, and then put in your sauce-boat.


Post-script.
There are other food stories inspired by Jane Austen in previous blog posts HERE, HERE, HERE, and HERE.
 

Quotation for the Day.
What a shocking fraud the turkey is. In life preposterous, insulting – that foolish noise they make … in death – unpalatable … practically no taste except a dry fibrous flavour reminiscent of warmed up plaster-of-paris and horsehair. The texture is like wet sawdust and the whole vast feathered swindle has the piquancy of a boiled mattress.
“Cassandra” (columnist William Connor), The Daily Mirror, 1953.

A Kind Word for Hash.

Turkey hash is likely to be on the menu in many post-Thanksgiving households in America over the next few days – which realisation caused me to ponder on the word ‘hash.’

To make a hash of something is to make a mess, isnt it? Yet the word originally derived from the French verb hacher, which simply means ‘to chop’ – not to chop messily. ‘Hash’ when applied in a culinary sense certainly refers to chopped or minced food (generally meat), but over and above this the idea is loaded with implications of lukewarm frugality and is totally devoid of any suggestion of deliciousness, is it not?

Who would have thought that hash could preserve domestic harmony? The prolific nineteenth century American cookery book author Thomas Jefferson Murrey had some interesting things to say on the subject of hash, in his book Luncheon, published in New York in 1888. But first, let us reflect upon his remarks on luncheon.

Remarks on Luncheon.
The midday meal of the household is too often an indifferent affair, or consists of ingedients which upset the system instead of benefiting it. … The utilization of the culinary odds and ends, which accumulate in the ice-box and pantry, deserves the highest consideration; for without this it would be impossible to please the palates of the “men-folks”, who, if fed on a continual diet of fresh meats which were but once cooked, would become unbearable. Their nerves would be shattered; and happiness, under such a condition of things, would be impossible.”

There is a lesson here, ladies. Should your men-folk become nervy on account of not being served enough leftovers – give them hash! Our author speaks highly of it, and of course gives several recipes.

HASH: A Kind Word for it.
The paragraph writer who has not penned a slur at the homely fare known as hash is a rara avis, and the poet whose first attempt at doggerel was not a denunciation of boarding-house hash is yet to be found. Slangy men of the world call a hotel or restaurant a “hashery,” signifying that the resort is a place to avoid, it being cheap and not nice. Yet, with all the censure heaped upon it by an unappreciative public, hash is, from a hygienic standpoint, the very best mode of serving food. This statement may seem incredible, but when we consider it a moment we realize the truthfulness of it. Statistics are not wanting to prove that minced food digests almost as soon without being chewed at all as if it had been thoroughly masticated. People who habitually“bolt” their food suffer no inconvenience from the practice when their food is cut very fine.
Most of us eat too rapidly, either from forgetfulness, bad teeth, or in case of hurry ; and the result is derangement of the stomach which in time ends in an almost incurable case of dyspepsia. Hash, then, is the proper food to order in such cases. It need not necessarily be the well-known compound so famihar to all; but served in the form of croquettes, forcemeats, patties, cromisquis, souffles, etc., it is always ac-
ceptable, and may be offered to the most fastidious; for while those various names sound more poetical, they all mean the same thing, simply — hash.


Corned-Beef Hash. — This homely American dish, when- properly prepared, is very acceptable. The brisket part of the beef is the best for this purpose. The rump or very lean meat does not make good hash. Chop up the meat very fine the night before it is wanted; add to it an equal quantity of warm boiled potatoes, moisten them a little with clear soup strongly impregnated with onion flavor. Mix meat and potatoes together, and place in ice box until wanted. The next morning it should be warmed
in a frying pan. A little onion may be added if not objected to. Moisten the hash with hot water or clear soup, and, when quite hot, serve. Some like the hash browned; this is accomplished by using a small quantity of butter, and frying the hash a delicate brown. The pan should be raised to an angle of thirty degrees, and the hash shaped like an omelet, then turned deftly out on a hot dish.


Minced Lamb on Toast. — The cold lamb left from the preceding day is quite accept
able when served in this manner. All fat should be removed, and the meat chopped quite fine, warmed in the pan, moistened with a little stock or hot water, and seasoned with salt and pepper. Then arrange on slices of buttered toast. Poached eggs are appreciated by many with this dish. Arrange each egg neatly on top of the meat without breaking it.

Postscript:

We have not ignored hash in the past; one way or another it has featured in a number of stories:
Morton Stanley and Mutton Hash.

Elizabeth (Barrett) and Robert Browning and Saturday Hash.

Hash’d Capons, Pullets, Turkeys, Pheasants, Partridges, or Rabbits.

Corned-Beef Hash, New-England Style. [1885]

To Hash Beef
To Make a Dunelm.

Brisbane Pish-pash

Seven Days with a Leg of Mutton.


Quotation for the Day.

HASH: There is no definition for this word -- nobody knows what hash is.
Ambrose Bierce; Devil’s Dictionary.

I wish you Turkey ....

I wish you, for your Thanksgiving turkey, one such as that eulogised by the American writer and humorist Irvin S Cobb (1876-1944) in Cobb’s Bill of Fare (1913).

First, he describes a turkey served at a large restaurant for a Thanksgiving feast – an ‘ancient and shabby ruin’ of a turkey, ‘full of mysterious laboratory products and … varnished over with a waterproof glaze or shellac, which rendered it durable without making it edible.

Then he tells it how a Thanksgiving turkey should be (and this is the one I wish for those of you celebrating the day):

“But there was a kind of turkey that they used to serve in those parts [‘up North’] on high state occasions. It was a turkey that in his younger days ranged wild in the woods and ate the mast. At the frosted coming of the fall they penned him up and fed him grain to put an edge of fat on his lean; and then fate descended upon him and he died the ordained death of his kind. But oh! the glorious resurrection when he reached the table! You sat with weapons poised and ready – a knife in the right hands, a fork in the left and a spoon handy – and looked upon him and watered at the mouth until you had riparian rights.
His breast had the vast brown fullness that you see in pictures of old Flemish friars. His legs were like rounded columns and undadorned, moreover, with those superfluous paper frills; and his tail was half as big as your hand and it protruded grandly, like the rudder of a treasure-ship, and had flanges of sizzled richness on it. Here was no pindling fowl that had taken the veil and lived a cloistered life; here was no wiredrawn and trained-down cross-country turkey, but a lusty giant of a bird that would have been a cassowary, probably, or an emu, if he had lived, his bosom a white mountain of lusciousness, his interior a Golconda and not a Golgotha. At the touch of steel his skin crinkled delicately and fell away; his tissues flaked off in tender strips; and from him arose a bouquet of smells more varied and more delectable than anything ever turned out by the justly celebrated Islands of Spice. It was a sin to cut him up and a crime to leave him be.
He had not been stuffed by a taxidermist or a curio collector, but by the master hand off one of those natural-born home cooks – stuffed with corn bread dressing that had oysters or chestnuts or pecans stirred into it until it was a veritable mine of goodness, and this stuffing had caught up and retained all the delectable drippings and essences of his being, and his flesh had the savor of the things upon which he had lived – the sweet acorns and beechnuts of the woods, the buttery goobers of the plowed furrows, the shattered corn of the horse yard.
Nor was he a turkey to be eaten by the mere slice. At least, nobody ever did eat him that way – you ate him by rods, poles, and perches, by townships and by sections – ate him from his neck to his hocks and back again, from his throat latch to his crupper, from centre to circumference, and from pit to dome, finding something better all the time; and when his frame was mainly denuded and loomed upon the platter like a scaffolding, you dug into his cadaver and found there small hidden joys and titbits.
You ate until the pressure of your waistband stopped your watch and your vest flew open like an engine-house door and your stomach was pushing you over on your back and sitting on you, and then you half closed your eyes and dreamed of cold-sliced turkey for supper, turkey hash for breakfast the next morning, and turkey soup made of his carcass later on. For each state of that turkey would be greater than the last.
There must still be such turkeys as this one somewhere. Somewhere in this broad and favoured land, untainted by notions of foreign cookery and unvisited by New York and Philadelphia people who insist on calling the waiter garçon, when his name is Gabe or Roscoe, there must be spots where a turkey is a turkey and not a cold-storage corpse. And this being the case, why don’t those places advertise, so that by the hundreds and thousands men who live in hotels might come from all over in the fall of the year and just naturally eat themselves to death?

And for the recipe for the day, a fine dressing.


Cornbread Dressing
(For one 10 to 12 lb turkey and one 1-qt casserole)
½ cup chopped onion, 1 ½ cups chopped celery, ¾ cups butter or margarine, melted, 1
pan corn bread, coarsely crumbled, 5 cups dry bread cubes, 2 teaspoons salt, 1 teaspoon pepper, 1 teaspoon poultry seasoning, 1 cup milk and 1 egg, beaten.
Lightly brown onion and celery in ¼ cup of the butter.
Combine corn bread, bread cubes and seasonings in large bowl. Add onion and celery to bread mixtures. Add milk, egg and remaining ½ cup butter, tossing lightly to combine. (Use an additional ¼ cup milk for a moister dressing.)
Lightly stuff about ¾ of dressing into body cavity and neck region of turkey.
Roast according to standard roasting directions.
Bake remaining dressing in uncovered 1-quart casserole during last 45 minutes
of roasting time.
From the News-Palladium (Michigan, nov 11, 1965)

Quotation for the Day.
May your stuffing be tasty
May your turkey plump,
May your potatoes and gravy
Have nary a lump.
May your yams be delicious
And your pies take the prize,
And may your Thanksgiving dinner
Stay off your thighs!
Anonymous.

Leftovers Day.

I always think of Boxing Day as Leftovers Day and Reading Day (all those lovely books received as gifts – especially the cookbooks).

Really, the leftovers are the best part of Christmas eating. I favour the minimal change system – cold turkey and ham in salads or sandwiches, and quickly re-roasted vegetables. A lot of stock from the bones of course, to be frozen for later use. What I do not favour are dishes such as this:

Curried Turkey Wings and Bones.
Prepare a curry sauce as follows: saute 2 large onions in butter or margarine, add 1 apple with peel, finely chopped, cook until tender.
Add 2 cups of turkey broth, vegetable broth, or water with bouillon cubes. Add 2 tablespoons of curry powder. Cook for 30 minutes. Then add turkey wings, disjointed, and leg and thigh bones. Continue cooking until they are heated through.
Add any leftover turkey gravy, or 1 tin of cream of mushroom soup and a little evaporated milk.
Season to taste, adding more curry if desired. Add a handful of white grapes.
Serve with rice, cranberry sauce, thinly sliced cucumbers with oil and vinegar, salted peanuts and baked bananas. “Beer is good with this”, says James Beard.
[Jefferson City newspaper, 1957]

Curry powder? Mushroom soup? Apples and Grapes? Served with cranberry sauce?

And a James Beard recipe? Is it really?

Quotation for the Day …

Cooking Rule: If at first you don't succeed, order pizza. Anonymous.

Mystery Turkey.

December 20 …

It is that time of the year again. The time to search for new and interesting ways to cook the Christmas turkey. Even more critically, the time to search for new and exciting ways to use up the Christmas turkey leftovers for the days that follow.

I present this recipe today in the hope that someone, somewhere will shed some light on the name. Or even make some wild hilarious guesses. It is from The Complete Practical Cook, by Charles Carter, published in 1730.

I have no idea what, where, or who is “Rockampuff”. Even Google refuses to hazard a guess. Presumably it is an attempt to ‘translate’ a French name, coming as it dos from a high-class courtly cookbook.

Whatever its origins, the recipe would be an elegant, if labour-intensive way of using up leftover roast turkey, and is surely worth adapting by persons of a modern persuasion.

ROCKAMPUFF, with Capon, Pullet, Turkey, or other Fowl.
Take, after roasted, all the brawny, white, and fleshy Part of your Fowl’ mince it, when taken off, very small: Take the best of the Joints and Bones, and cut them in pieces, and ragoust them in good Gravy; put to them a few Morelles and Mushrooms, and an Artichoke-bottom cut in Pieces; season with Pepper, Salt, Nutmeg, an Onion, and a Faggot of Sweet-herbs; sheet the same dish you serve it in with Puff-Paste; raise a border of hot Butter-Paste in the Inside three or four Inches high: First put in your Ragoust, and over that lay a Row of large Oysters dipp’d in Eggs, and seasoned with Pepper, Salt, Nutmeg, Thyme and Parsley minc’d, and a little grated Bread; then toss up your minc’d Fowl with good Gravy, thick Butter, and the Yolk of an Egg, season’d with Pepper, Salt, and Nutmeg; Put it over the Oysters, and strew over it some Raspings of French Bread to the thickness of a quarter of an Inch; then take thick Butter and beat it up with the Yolk of an Egg or two, and with a Brush, drop it all over in Rings till quite cover’d; paper your Border round, and bake it; and when done, serve it away hot to the Table: Squeeze over an Orange.

Tomorrow’s Story …

Mushroom Advice.

Quotation for the Day …

Cooking Tip: Wrap turkey leftovers in aluminum foil and throw them out. Nicole Hollander.

Fruit with Meat.

Today, September 12^th ….

I am in transit today, on my way home from England and the Symposium. I may not get chance to post for another two whole days, unless the wireless connection at Narita airport (12 hour stopover - I wonder how much I can see in that time?) is hassle-free.

My musings on the “there is nothing really new, culinarily speaking, under the sun” theme of yesterday got me thinking of other recipes that serve as examples. Here are a couple of my favourites – a fourteenth century German recipe for chicken and quinces or pears, and a seventeenth century French recipe for turkey with raspberries. Any modern chefs care to adapt these and let us know about it?

Ein gut spise (A good food)
[Chicken and Quinces or Pears]
Take hens. Roast them, not very well. Tear them apart, into morsels, and let them boil in only fat and water. And take a crust of bread and ginger and a little pepper and anise. Grind that with vinegar and with the same strength as it. And take four roasted quinces and the condiment thereto of the hens. Let it boil well therewith, so that it even becomes thick. If you do not have quinces, then take roasted pears and make it with them. And give out and do not oversalt.
[Ein Buch von guter spise; about 1350; trans.by Alia Atlas]

Turkie with Raspis.
When it is dressed, take up the brisket, and take out the flesh, which you shall mince with suet and some little of Veal-flesh, which you shall mince together with yolks of Eggs & young Pigeons, & all being well seasoned, you shall fill your Turkie with it,and shall season it with Salt, Peper, beaten Cloves and Capers, then you shall spit ti, and turn it very softly; When it is almost rosted, take it up, and put it into an Earthen pan with good Broath, Mushrums, and a bundle of Herbs which you shall make with Parsley, thime, and Chibols tied together; for to thicken the sauce, take a little Lard sliced, pass it in the pan, and when it is melted, take it out and mix a little flower with it, which you shall make very brown, and shall allay it with a little Broath and some Vinegar; then put it into your Earthen pan with some Lemon juice and serve. If it be in the Raspis season, you shall put a handfull of them over it, if not, some Pomegranate.
[The French Cook; la Varenne; 1653]

Tomorrow’s Story …

Mumbled or Scrambled.

Quotation for the Day …

Travel has a way of stretching the mind. The stretch comes not from travel's immediate rewards, the inevitable myriad new sights, smells and sounds, but with experiencing firsthand how others do differently what we believed to be the right and only way. Ralph Crawshaw