Thanksgiving countdown VI: Do-aheads

When I was growing up, we always had canned jellied cranberry sauce. What wonderful stuff it was! My mom served it on a long silver platter, and slicing it so fanned out just so was one of my favorite Thanksgiving tasks. I've grown into more of a whole berry sauce girl though, but cranberries remain one of my favorite seasonal foods.

This time of year, when fresh cranberries are abundant, I cook up a few batches and can them, not only for Thanksgiving but for all the roast chicken dinners we eat through the winter.

But if you make yours now for Thanksgiving dinner, you're in luck. There's no need to mess with canning in a hot water bath. The sauce will easily last a few days til the big meal and through the leftovers.


I cooked three bags of cranberries, giving us enough for our meal and for making a small jar for the MIL to take home with her leftovers.


I also cut up my stuffing bread so it can dry to a nice crunchy texture. Growing up, we used spongy white Weber bread because that's what bread was in our household (my parents have since evolved to whole grain). I use a locally made ciabatta. Two large loaves should yield enough stuffing for my thirteen guests.

CRANBERRY SAUCE

1 12-ounce bag of cranberries, rinsed and picked through
3/4 cup water
1 cup granulated sugar
1/4 teaspoon salt

Combine all ingredients in a saucepan over medium heat. Bring to a boil, then reduce to medium heat and cook until slightly thickened and about half of the berries have burst. Ladle into clean dry jars and let cool to room temperature and then refrigerate. Bring to room temperature before serving.

This recipe multiplies easily. If you make a large batch, can what you do not intend to use right away in a hot water bath. Process hot preserves in a hot water bath for fifteen minutes.

Next: I'm working my way to . . . Thanksgiving MELTDOWN! Tune in to see what I have not done in preparation for my big dinner. And why it's going to be ok (at least that's what I keep telling myself).

Thanksgiving countdown V:Equipment check

Silver polished?

Check! Some of these pieces I inherited, but most are ones I found at flea markets, small antique shops, or even thrift stores. It's amazing how good a tarnished mess can clean up with a little Mrs. Wright's.

Knives sharpened?

Not yet, but Husband dropped them off at Hida Tool, with a promise that they would be ready on Wednesday. Can you believe he did not buy a single tool while he was there? Unprecedented.

Glassware inventoried and restocked?

Check! We seem to go through glassware like tissue. I have almost enough nice wine goblets, but I picked up these extras from the Crate and Barrel outlet for $3 a piece. At that price, we can throw them at walls. I also needed new water goblets, and although I'm not crazy about them (far too heavy to throw at walls), these saved me from driving to a mall. They'll do.

Later tonight after Sunday dinner is consumed and cleaned up, I'll be ironing napkins.

Next up: Food do-aheads.

Just think, in a week it will all be over, and we'll be sick of turkey sandwiches and I'll be craving anti-holiday food—usually Thai. Seems like a long way off, doesn't it?

Thanksgiving countdown IV:Canned pumkin shortage?

Have you heard about it? Two words I offer in response: WHO CARES? Because roasting a pumpkin is about the easiest thing to do. And it's a good way to heat up a cold kitchen.

It's important though to buy the right kind of pumpkin.

Not one of these. You want a sugar pie or baking pumpkin. The jack-o-lantern kind are full of stringy stuff and will leave with nothing but a bunch of orange water (don't ask how I know this).

Scoop out the seeds and stringy stuff.

Place cut side down in a roasting pan filled with about an inch of water. This steams the pumpkin as it bakes. Roast at 350 degrees until skin starts to brown and can be easily pierced with a sharp knife.

When pumpkin is cooled enough to handle, spoon mixture into a food mill (one of the most useful low-tech. kitchen gadgets ever—makes the perfect mashed potatoes) and apply a little elbow grease.

The mixture is fine in the refrigerator for a few days and freezes well.

And it's not just for pie. There's bread! And soup! And risotto! Stir some into your favorite pancake recipe, add a few pumpkin-friendly spices (cinnamon, nutmeg, clove), and you have pumpkin pancakes!

But on the subject of Thanksgiving desserts, I've decided on three: pumpkin pie, apple crumb pie, and a new one: bourbon pecan tart, a recipe in Bon Appetit by my personal pie mentor, Carolyn Weil. I'm excited about the tart: It sounds like a great alternative to the standard pecan pie.

On other fronts, I seem to be going down in flames. We're having ambrosia. And after giving Husband the final call, we're also having rolls. He wants them for mopping gravy, and I was swayed by the argument that Thanksgiving is a feast and not meant to be a nutritionally reasonable meal. But I am drawing the line: We are not saying grace. It's my house. My dinner. No grace. No discussion. We're just giving thanks. Period.

Thanksgiving countdown III: Rolls?

Thank you to everyone who weighed in on the ambrosia discussion. I have made my peace with the fact that my MIL's feelings are more important than what I serve my guests. And besides, there's not a chance in hell anyone will think I made the ambrosia: My hostess rep. will remain intact.

But someone's suggestion that I redirect the MIL toward crescent rolls brings up something I've been gnawing on for a while.

Does one really need to serve rolls at Thanksgiving?

Are rolls and stuffing not redundant?

After all, they are both essentially bread. Don't get me wrong: I am no carb. counter (I've heard there's research that says people on low-carb. diets are bitchy, and I cannot afford to move any farther in that direction, but I tend to be of the persuasion that the only thing that should be doubled up on the plate are vegetables, especially when they are different colors. So beets are nice with something green, like zucchini. And who does not think corn is nice with spinach? But a roll sitting next to a pile of bread? And no, there's no room on our table for bread plates. I dunno. But then I've taken similar issue with pasta and garlic bread: Isn't pasta enough in the carb. category? And don't forget the pie crust coming up.

And besides, rolls come with other accompaniments (butter, preserves) that take up a bit of real estate on the table. But then I make really good preserves. I make only ok rolls—I purchase rolls much better. I will be sure to buy some nice bread or rolls for turkey sandwiches before bed or the next day.

And some people really like rolls. But my nephews, who at some family dinners have eaten nothing but rolls, will not be there.

What do you think?? Discuss.

Thanksgiving countdown II: Menu planning

So just when I thought we were moving forward with Thanksgiving plans, my MIL volunteers cheerfully "I would like to bring something!" Remembering the pink syrup in a bottle she once squirted on strawberries to go over my homemade short cake, I scrambled to think of something long enough for her to volunteer what she really wants to bring:

Ambrosia

I could just weep. Do you know what this is? Mini marshmallows, shredded coconut, various kinds of canned fruit (we live in California, for christsake—why would anyone eat canned fruit??), sour cream, and I think Cool Whip (cannot believe I just typed those words). I hate ambrosia!!! It is gross!!!!!

So do I point out that everyone else hates ambrosia too? Well, I guess that is not really true. After all, she likes it. Maybe other people do too. But probably not. The "not if it's too much trouble!" did not work. Ambrosia is coming to dinner. Along with my MIL. At least we all really do like her.

So what else are we having? In addition to various appetizers, yet to be determined,

• Roast turkey with gravy
• Whole cranberry sauce (I always can a bunch this time of year)
• Cranberry relish (Lisa is bringing this)
• Stuffing with sausage, apple, and chantrelles
• Buttermilk mashed potatoes
• Corn pudding
• Sauteed green beans (my friend Matt is bringing this)
• Smoked king salmon (Jim is bringing this—he wanted to smoke my turkey, but I told him no because of the stuffing and gravy issue)

And of course, we will have pies: definitely apple and pumpkin, possibly pecan. Does anyone really like pecan? Probably the same people who like ambrosia. I guess I'll make one.

What's your Thanksgiving favorite? Would you eat ambrosia?

Thanksgiving countdown: Stocking up

So Thanksgiving is at my house again. Do you want to come? Oakland is the nearest airport, and you should be here by about 3:00 because that's when badminton begins. Here's the plan: We have a cocktail and munch a few appetizers, play some badminton, have another cocktail and munch a few more appetizers, yack a bunch, have dinner, yack a bunch, have dessert, and then lie on the floor holding our stomachs. Thanks goodness we got that badminton in, right? And if you get here earlier in the morning, you could come on my family's hike in the canyon to look for migrating salamanders, which should help a little with the calorie situation.

Thanksgiving is a little over a week away—time to get cracking! First up on my agenda is making sure I have lots of stock. I need it for gravy, for stuffing, and possibly for some of my vegetable dishes (anything cooked in water is better cooked in stock).

I know some people do crazy things like roasting bones, but I think that sort of misses the point. Stock should be made from what is left over, like all those chicken carcasses that I bag up and throw in the freezer until we reach critical stock mass. Regardless of what else I add, I've found the best stock I make is that with the most chicken carcasses. Three or four is good.

I add a few carrots, a few stalks of celery, an onion, a handful of parley, a bay leaf, some thyme, some sage, a few peppercorns, and whatever else strikes my fancy. Sometimes there has been a lemon inside one of the chickens, and that ends up in there too.

I simmer overnight, let cool the next day, then strain the broth through a mesh colander lined with cheesecloth, and refrigerate it to let the fat harden on top.

Usually I remove the fat, ladle the broth into containers, and freeze, but because I have an afternoon at home (parent/teacher conference week, with all half days) and just because I'm feeling special, I'm going to cook down the defatted broth to concentrate it, giving me a richer broth and saving some freezer space.

Coming up: knife sharpening, turkey buying, menu planning, pie crusting, and a discussion of ambrosia.

So, are you coming?

Just asking

Before I allowed Sophie to move in with visit the neighbors this weekend, I required her to help clean her room and sort through old toys she no longer plays with.

It was time, she admitted, for the Calico Critters, all the rage the past few years, to be packed away. She wants them to be shallow storage because she might want to play with them again. At some point they will migrate to deep storage where they will wait for her children to play with them.

We spent over an hour sorting out all the landfill donations—headless Polly Pockets, bald Barbies, and plastic ponies with manes hopelessly matted— from the Critters wonderful stuff, which we both admit is pretty amazing.

Unlike Polly, Barbie, and those ponies, the Calicos area wonderful and charming family that we have been happy to host. They are well-made, soft, fuzzy little creatures with a lovely Victorian house, cute outfits, and an astounding assortment of furniture and accessories.

So I was puzzled that Sophie insisted on including in their box this character:

"Oh, I need her. They use her as a maid sometimes."

Really? So when and from where do children acquire the idea that someone who waits on you or cleans your house should be someone different from you? Did I do that? Probably. I guess my message of "Work hard enough and earn enough money or be nice enough to your mother-in-law, and you'll never have to scrub a toilet!" went terribly wrong somewhere along the line. Crap. Liberal guilt's a bummer.

Do you think the Calicos paid the maid a living wage? I'm going to ask about that.