In the Same (Gravy) Boat

Where’s the mystery in Thanksgiving? That’s an easy one. It’s the gravy.

HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN: Why is it after so many years of making Thanksgiving dinner for various numbers of family and friends, every year on Thanksgiving morning I wake up with the burning (ouch) question: How do you make gravy?

Is it easy for you? I’ve been a TV reporter for the past 40 years.  I’ve wired myself with hidden cameras, gone undercover into tricky situations, confronted corrupt politicians and chased down criminals.

But the gravy thing? No can do.

First you have to wait til the turkey’s done, right? Then somehow, lift the huge and hot turkey out of the roasting pan without ruining the perfectly brown (if you’re lucky and careful) skin and transfer it to a platter. They never tell you exactly how to do that.

I always wind up putting a huge spoon into the stuffing cavity and using a spatula thing to boost the underside. The thing weighs 25 pounds after all—more, because of the stuffing I guess, right? So this is what they don’t say in the instructions...

Hurray.

The turkey is, once again, safely placed on the platter. The fragrance is tantalizing, amazing, irresistible, and people are ready to eat. Happily, there’s the “the turkey has to rest” rule, or else the gravy would never get made.

Into the oven goes the other container of stuffing, the sweet potato casserole, and the experimental dish I make every year that no one eats. Hoping that because there are three things in the oven trying to cook at 350 degrees at one time doesn’t throw off the temperature somehow.

My sister, a real chef, says real chefs just turn the oven to the highest possible temp and cook the food til it’s done. Thanks, Nancy. YOU come over and do this.

Anyway, praying for side dishes, you can no longer ignore the gravy. Balanced on two burners on the stove , that roasting pan sits, taunting. One recipe says “Skim off the fat.” You know how long that takes? And how difficult that is? I’ve purchased ever fat-skimming implement known to Sur La Table and I’m here to tell you, for me, they don’t work. So, for a couple of minutes, I pretend to skim off the fat.

 The turkey juices are beginning to bubble. I must make the oh-so-critical next decisions. Thickener. Flour? Cornstarch? Whatever arrowroot is? Maybe no thickener? Just clear gravy?

How did I do this last year?

Then the liquid. Wine? Water? Chicken broth? Did anyone buy chicken broth? (I guess “anyone” would be me.)

Back in the recesses of the left-hand cabinet, I find can of chicken broth. Does a little rust around the edges of the can make any difference?

Should I have saved the giblets? And what are those, anyway? But too late now. The turkey juices are bubbling. I whisk the brown stuff (what is that anyway? Do we want to know?) off the sides and bottom of the pan and into the mix.

Someone asks if there are appetizers, and if so, when we’re having them. Someone is about to get clobbered with a wooden spoon. Cornstarch it is. I dump cornstarch into a Pyrex cup of water—would it be better to put the water into the cornstarch? And make a little paste. I stir it into the pan juices. I think this is right. Whatever. No going back now.

Someone offers me champagne. Apparently, in the other room, the party is starting. I take a sip of the champagne—and dump the rest into the gravy. Stir stir stir. Add the chicken soup and a can of water. I’ve crossed the gravy Rubicon now. Wishing for more champagne. Stir stir stir.

Stir stir stir.

Stir stir stir.

  Oh. My gosh. Gravy.

I hope I remember this for next year.

 Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

And what hints to you have to make your gravy perfect? Or--hey--any Thanksgiving hints. All are welcome...and, um, needed...

On what NOT to make for Thanksgiving

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!!

It's a great holiday, no gifts required, lots of good food. And of course, tradition.

JAN: Which leads me to this confession: There are certain foods I make or MUST have for Thanksgiving that I don't recommend. Foods I am compelled to serve and sometimes eat that, in all honestly, should be avoided at all costs.

Kielbasa on rye rounds: I don't really like Kielbasa. But I'm half Polish and for every holiday, my mother, an otherwise good cook, served Kielbasa on those little rye breads that are always stale. Now I feel compelled to serve Kielbasa, especially at Thanksgiving, even though its actually too heavy an appetizer before a huge turkey dinner. I try to improve it. I hand make the rounds out of regular rye bread, which are a nice touch and never stale. I make a sauce of horse radish and dijon. But there's no getting around the kielbasa. It must be served.

Green Bean casserole: Let's face it, those french fried onion rings are kind of gross. It doesn't matter. My mother served it. Plus, my daughter loves it, so she puts it together. It can't be left out.

Cranberry souffle: This one I got from my former roommate. You make a sauce of fresh cranberries, whip up six egg whites and put it in the oven after the turkey comes out. To tell you the truth, it doesn't taste all the great, but it looks incredibly impressive, so I serve it. Not every year, just when I want something pretty on the table.

Turnips: I hate turnips unless they are slow roasted and there is no time for that with a full Thanksgiving oven. So they must be boiled and mashed ahead of time. They are bitter vegetables that remind me of that moment when Scarlett O'Hara comes back to Tara and pulls up a vegetable from the ground that makes her throw up. But they were my mother's favorite. Last year I made them, this year I'm leaving them out.

Home made gravy: It's the prima donna of Thanksgiving dishes. It has to be done after the turkey comes out while everyone is getting restless for the meal. I'm a pretty cool cook, but I find this whole process nerve-racking. You are supposed to get the grease out -- which is impossible, since the whole thing is just grease. And God forbid there are lumps. I don't eat it anyway, but for my guests who do, I find a good store-made gravy and microwave it.

Is it just me? Or are there mandatory Thanksgiving dishes you serve, eat or feel everyone should avoid??

HALLIE: Good gravy--how can you possibly get it out of a can? Travesty! It's easy to separate out fat. You pour all the juices into a pyrex cup and let the fat separate from the juices. Pour off the fat, and use just a 3-4 tablespoons of it to start the gravy. I just have to be sure not to drink too much wine before I start the gravy.

JAN: Just to clarify, I don't get the gravy out of a can. You can get sort-of-home-made but store bought gravy at Roche Brothers (Willow Farm) and Whole Foods. They come in cartons. Like Ice cream.

HALLIE: What I don't like are cranberry relishes made from ground up raw berries. Pucker time. And I used to hate Brussels sprouts but I've made my peace with them.

ROBERTA: Oh me too, must have the homemade gravy. Must have it the next day for leftovers too! But I totally agree with Jan on the fresh cranberry relish--ugh. (this year I bought a can...)

My mother-in-law is coming for dinner tomorrow so I'm doing the creamed onions that I would otherwise let fall by the wayside. And stuffing--I don't care that much about it, but my family does so I make it. Recent years, I've been making it with homemade cornbread and sausage, but since we're out of town in a small kitchen this year it's PEPPERIDGE FARM FROM A BAG! And just by the way, I love mashed turnips--one of my sisters-in-law taught us to mix the turnips with the potatoes and mash them all together so that's what I'll do this year!

HANK: I just did a WHOLE BLOG about gravy. It's my nemesis. Though I won't give up. Check it out on http://bit.ly/54jVnB I love gravy. And I only have it on Thanksgiving. I also love roasted Brussels sprouts--Hallie, you taught me how to make them! And I adore the real cranberry relish I make with triple sec and orange peel and pecans.

Yuck: creamed onions. Roasted chestnuts. Pecan pie. (yes, I know, But I think it's tooth-grittingly sweet.) Parsnips, turnips, rutabagas, any of those root things. To me, they taste like--ah, mud.

That cranberry souffle sounds kind of cool. How long does it cook? NO NO, don't tell me.

JAN: So enough of that warm and fuzzy "what we're grateful for" Thanksgiving conversation. Come tell us what you HATE about Thanksgiving. But food only. No relatives.

(And come back tomorrow when I'll post my cranberry souffle recipe--especially for Hank. The kids won't eat it, but most adults will rave - at least before they taste it. And if you were ever going to write a Thanksgiving murder mystery, it would be the perfect place to put the poison. )