Celia Hayes – The Accidental Texan

So, here we go, full-tilt at a dead run into the traditional holiday season. I rejoice to confess that a client for the Tiny Publishing Bidness sent a check for a print run of his books, from which profit allowed Blondie and I to knock off our family gift obligations, all ship-shape and Bristol-fashion, to use an aged metaphor from the days in which the city of Bristol did indeed have a sailing-ship industry. This was performed at my computer, through various websites, and not requiring us to go out anywhere, on a particularly dreary and rainy day. So, yes – observe the power of this fully-functional internet! Neither of us has any motivation to sally out at the crack of dawn, stand in line, and engage in brutal wrestling matches for the privilege of purchasing tacky and excessively marked-down Chinese-manufactured electronic tat. Not even would we stand in line at the crack of dawn to combat for American-manufactured tat … which is why I am grateful for the aforementioned fully-functional internet. Our gifts are edible and/or readable – Fischer and Weiser sauces from Fredericksburg for my sister and bro-in-law, a fruitcake from Corsicana for my brother and his wife, and books for his kidlets ordered from Amazon, which if I know my publishing sources (and I think I do) are also printed and bound in the U S of A.

That fortunate client check also permitted us to sally forth to Sam’s and the local HEB for the final ingredients for the Christmas neighborhood treat; gourmet fudges. Last fall – I think when I did the book-club meeting and walking tour of significant places pertaining to the Adelsverein Trilogy, my daughter was inspired by a visit to a candy-maker in Fredericksburg. Cookies are passé, we’ve explored other avenues in holiday neighborhood gift-giving like homemade bread and cheese, home-brewed herb vinegars and oils … and so my daughter suggested various flavors of home-made fudge, as was available in that Fredericksburg candy shop. We spared no expense in making small batches – real butter, cream, top-market chocolate – and the reception of it all was rapturous.

From last year – a representative sample of our neighborhood Christmas gift

Of course, it didn’t really hurt that we doubled some of the recipes gleaned from the internet – which resulted in so much assorted fudge that we were handing it out not just to immediate neighbors and those whom we were on regularly friendly and affectionate terms with … but also forcing it on those whom we had barely a nodding acquaintance. “Hey, we’ve seem you around the neighborhood – here’s a box of fudge! Merry Christmas!” We also had tins of fudge – very nicely presented in tidy paper cups – like the nicer grade of cookies and candy – for the postman, the guys on the garbage truck, the local police, a huge Christmas gift-platter for the local fire-house … you get the idea. In the last couple of weeks, when we’ve been discussing neighborhood Christmas gift obligations, certain neighbors have been hinting rather broadly at their preferences … “Say, y’all going to do that fudge again? That was really good…” So, our duty was obviously clear, aided by the bag full of pretty Christmas tins picked up for a song at the local Super-HEB clearance shelves last year. Yes, we shop strategically with a eye towards long-term requirements – got a problem with that?

This afternoon, we cleared the counters, donned aprons, put Christmas music on the stereo, washed the medium-sized sheet pans, and set to work, making six sorts of fudge – two more batches to go, as soon as we get another bag of walnuts and another of white confectioner’s chocolate tomorrow. We’re looking to distribute it by the end of the week – as next weekend begins the massive Christmas marketing season for us, and we have an event every weekend until Christmas.

So – that’s my Thanksgiving/Black Friday weekend – yours?

It was automatic, the family ritual for disposing of the post-Thanksgiving left-over turkey – and all the other dishes. On the day after, warmed-up everything. On the day after that, hot turkey sandwiches. On the day after that – when the stuffing, mashed potatoes and gravy had usually been completely consumed – then cold turkey sandwiches. Followed on subsequent evenings by turkey ala king, turkey loaf and turkey croquettes. Finally, when the turkey carcass had been substantially reduced to small scraps and bones, it all went into the stock-pot and we had turkey stew for another two weeks. Generally, by the time we polished off the Thanksgiving turkey, we would only have had a weeks’ grace before commencing on the Christmas turkey. These days, if I have prepared one for Thanksgiving (not a guarantee, actually – for some years I have been by myself and fixed something small and non-traditional) I have usually been so sick of leftover turkey that for Christmas we have fixed just about anything else as a main dish for Christmas dinner.

But leftovers, like the poor, and the Christmas shopping rush – will always be with us. This recipe, for a pot-pie with a cheddar-biscuit crust is especially tasty, for the chief reason that it doesn’t look, or taste like an obvious leftover. This is one of those recipes that I copied by hand from a magazine, or a newspaper, into my own little collection.

 Turkey Pot-pie with a Cheddar Crust

Simmer until just tender in 3 cups water – 1 lb peeled, cubed butternut squash. Turn off heat, and add to hot water and cubed squash – 1 cup frozen lima beans. Allow to sit a moment, before draining and reserving cooked vegetables, and 1 cup of the cooking water.

In a large skillet, melt 3 Tbsp. butter, and make a roux with 2 Tbsp. flour. Wisk in the 1 cup cooking water from the vegetables and 1 cup chicken or turkey broth, with 2 Tbsp minced fresh sage, 5 oz. pealed pearl onions. Simmer for 10 minutes and add 3 cups cubed cooked turkey, and the lima beans and squash. Pour into a 1 ½ quart shallow baking dish’

Combine in another bowl: 1 ¼ cup flour and 1 ½ tsp. baking powder. Stir in 1 Tbsp cold butter, 1 ½ cups grated sharp cheddar, 4 slices crisp and crumbled cooked bacon. Stir ½ to 2/3 cup cold milk to make a loose dough, and pipe around the edge of the baking dish. Bake at 425 for 20-25 minutes. This will not appear anything like leftovers. Trust me.

(A re-run from my original military blog, and I thought I had included this in Air Force Daze, but it seems I put it in my first book, Our Grandpa Was an Alien, without the stuffing recipe.)

The women-only barracks was the only one that contained a working kitchen. Once upon a time, all the female troops were assigned to a WAF squadron, and lived in the WAF barracks. The WAF separate command was long gone by my first year in Japan, but all the females, no matter if they were assigned to the hospital, CE (Civil Engineering), SPS (Security Police Squadron), CBPO (Consolidated Base Personnel Office) , the Hill (Shussh! You can’t talk about The Hill!!!) – we all lived in the one building. This had several advantages, notably in the efficient base-wide transmission of gossip, and in letting us scamper between our rooms and the gang latrines dressed in little more than a towel or underwear, but possession of a kitchen was most highly prized.

Besides that, the dining hall was a good bit away, and the aesthetics of the Japanese cooks led them to unsettling practices like adorning the meatloaf with maraschino cherries. God knows, it might be rather attractive in theory, but it was still very disconcerting to be eating your meatloaf and two veg and discovering the maraschinos. Eventually, a group of us began taking turns fixing something on a Sunday afternoon, and sharing it out with anyone without dinner plans: “Just bring your plate and a fork, and a chair down to the common room” we said. A girl from Georgia fixed real Southern fried chicken one week, the next weekend the resident vegetarian baked a vat of eggplant parmigana. So when fall came around, and Thanksgiving drew closer, it seemed only logical to do our own Thanksgiving dinner. Most of the traditional dishes are fairly simple, after all. We took up a fund for groceries, did a headcount of who wouldn’t be going to their supervisors’ houses and immediately hit a snag:

“Who’s going to do the turkey?” was the main question, followed by “Well, who helped enough at home to stuff and bake a 20lb turkey without giving anyone food poisoning?” (This has always been stressed on the AFRTS spots at that time of year.)

I had helped Mom and Granny Jessie with the Thanksgiving and Christmas turkeys since… well, I was unwary enough to admit it. Before I could come up with a plausible way to wiggle out, I was rushing to the commissary with a pocket full of crumpled notes and change on the Wednesday afternoon, with just fifteen minutes before I had to be up the hill and on-shift at the TV station.

Turkey, 20+ pounds, frozen solid: OK, I would leave it to defrost outside in my car during the shift; Northern Japan in November was slightly chillier than the inside of most refrigerators anyway. Onionscelerysagesausage…bread. Mom always bought a loaf of bakery wheat bread, tore each slice into clunks and dried them on a sheet-cake pan in the closet where the hot water heater lived. I zigged down the bakery aisle, threw a loaf into the basket and headed for the quick-checkout register, making it to work with about a half-minute to spare.

Didn’t even notice until I got back to the barracks that night, and took out the bread that I had a loaf of rye. Damn and blast! There was no way to get a loaf of wheat bread, no way at all. What the hell— I tore up the rye loaf, reasoning that with all the other stuff and a ladle of gravy on top, who the heck would ever notice a few caraway seeds or not.
It worked— made the best bread stuffing ever! I’ve done it with rye bread ever since. (Unless I do the Rock Cornish hen with wild rice stuffing instead) So without further ado:

Sgt. Mom’s Rye Stuffing

Tear apart or cut into cubes one loaf rye bread. Dry until crisp in a warm area, or an oven set to the lowest temperature available.
Heat to simmering 2-4 cups unsalted vegetable or chicken broth.
Rinse inside and out, and pat dry with paper towels one turkey. Remove the bag with giblets and set aside. Do not forget these; you will use them for the gravy base.
In a large frying pan, brown 1/2 to 1 lb bulk sausage. When done, drain off fat, and set sausage to drain on paper towels. Add 1/4 to 1/2 cup butter to frying pan, and sauté until translucent:
1 onion, chopped finely
2-3 stalks celery, sliced finely
Add:
Handful of celery leaves, also chopped
2 to 4 Tbsp. fresh parsley, chopped
Sage to taste, either fresh and sliced, or dried and crumbled
Pepper to taste
8-ox box of mushrooms, cleaned and sliced
Empty the dried bread into the largest bowl you have, add the cooked sausage, the sautéed vegetables, and moisten with the broth. You can add chopped cooked chestnuts at this point. The stuffing should not be soggy. Stuff the turkey according to custom. Whatever stuffing does not fit in the bird can be baked in a covered casserole for the last hour or so. Generally its 15-20 minutes per pound for a smaller bird, 13-15 minutes per pound for larger, or so sayeth “Joy Of Cooking”.
While the bird bakes, take the giblets and the neck and simmer them in a heavy saucepan in the leftover broth and enough water to make about 3 cups of liquid. Finely chop the giblets and neck meat when thoroughly cooked, and mix a little water with flour to thicken it all, and there’s your gravy.
With luck, there will be no leftovers.