Holidays are meant to be spent with family
– wherever and whatever that means
Like the staffs in a lot of small offices, we are family here at
the Weekend Pinnacle.
We are a family because of what we share every day as we
struggle to get out a newspaper we care about, and hope our readers
will care about as well. In deadline-oriented, stress-filled
careers such as journalism, you learn a lot about the people you
work with. We know each others’ good and bad habits, we know who
likes seafood and who doesn’t, who watches
”
The Office
”
and who watches The History Channel, which guys we think are
cute and which ones of us hope for donuts on Friday mornings.
Holidays are meant to be spent with family – wherever and whatever that means
Like the staffs in a lot of small offices, we are family here at the Weekend Pinnacle.
We are a family because of what we share every day as we struggle to get out a newspaper we care about, and hope our readers will care about as well. In deadline-oriented, stress-filled careers such as journalism, you learn a lot about the people you work with. We know each others’ good and bad habits, we know who likes seafood and who doesn’t, who watches “The Office” and who watches The History Channel, which guys we think are cute and which ones of us hope for donuts on Friday mornings.
As the holidays approach, the Pinnacle staff looks forward to spending time with our real families, the ones we go home to each night, to share good times and good food. Before we do, we decided to share our favorite Thanksgiving dishes with both our readers and each other. The recipes are varied, as are the stories behind them. They range from the traditional – mashed potatoes and apple pie – to the spicy – cranberry salsa – to the downright unusual – an apple and banana salad made with mayonnaise.
We hope some of these recipes will find their way onto a few new tables this Thanksgiving. May your holidays be as blessed as the ones we will share with our families – each and every one of them.
Mark Paxton, Pinnacle publisher
There is almost certainly no holiday that is as culinary tradition-bound as Thanksgiving. For years, our menu included a mysterious lime Jell-O mold that featured celery and pimientos. Its function appeared to be to melt into turkey gravy, rendering both inedible.
Cranberries, too, were honor-bound. We served a home-made sauce, but flanking it was a quivering cylinder of canned cranberry jelly. It was never to be tinkered with. The shape of the stuff was part of its charm.
So a decade ago, when I arrived at the groaning board with a new take on cranberry sauce, the reception was cool to say the least.
In recent years, we’ve agreed upon an uncooked sauce that’s spelled out on bags of Ocean Spray cranberries that appear in supermarkets this time of year. It requires nothing more than a blender or food processor, a bag of cranberries, a scoop of sugar and a whole orange. The result is spectacular.
Some of us are content to adhere to tradition and some of us like to skate around in the kitchen a little. Hence: cranberry salsa.
Spicy Cranberry Salsa
1 bag fresh cranberries
1/2 red onion, chopped
1 very small bunch cilantro, chopped
1-2 jalapeno peppers, seeded and chopped
1 clove garlic, minced
½ cup of sugar, or more to taste
Pinch of salt and pepper
Boil cranberries for one minute and drain. Add onion, jalapenos, garlic, sugar and juice of the limes, crushing some berries as you blend. Add salt, pepper and chopped cilantro. Chill and serve.
My grandmother would not have approved of that salsa. She grew up with my granduncle and aunt on a ranch south of Pinnacles. They rode a buckboard wagon to Jefferson School each day, where they received a sound education. My grandmother married at 16, helped run an orchard business, split wood for a stove to feed five children and a husband, milked a cow daily and still managed to keep a sense of humor. She liked honest food, and eschewed tomfoolery like curry powder.
Many of her recipes, like beans and tamale pie, were born of what was available at Dry Lake Ranch. She – and my mother after her – made a fruitcake each Christmas that people would actually ask for. There is nothing to compare, and in my determination to accept no substitutes, I am bereft of fruitcake for many years.
At Thanksgiving, dressing meant my grandmother’s recipe. We’ve tried others, but the Real McCoy demands only a few things. First among them is stale sourdough. Because the ranch was a good 35 miles from Hollister, trips to the store were not a casual decision. Pecans or other exotics were not in the larder. But each year, my grandmother would visit the long-leafed pines that are a signature for the county, and shake nuts from their large, spiky cones. Then the task of laboriously shelling the nuts began.
Grandma’s dressing demands pine nuts.
Like most of her recipes, measurements are taken in handfuls and generous pinches. The result is never the same, but always delicious. These measurements are an approximation. If you like chopped dried apricots (local Blenheims, please) add them, or toss out the raisins if you object to them.
Dry Lake Dressing
1 small loaf stale sourdough, cubed and toasted briefly in a 350-degree oven.
2 medium yellow onions, chopped
5 large ribs of celery, chopped
1 pound bulk sausage, browned and drained
½ cup pine nuts, toasted slightly
¾ cup raisins
1 tart apple, like Newtown pippin
1 tbsp. sage
1 tsp. minced fresh rosemary
½ tsp. ground thyme, or 1 tsp. fresh
½ cup parsley
Generous grinding of pepper
3 cups turkey or chicken broth
1 cube butter
Salt to taste
Brown sausage and drain. Add to it the butter, celery and onions and cook until they are translucent. Combine everything else thoroughly, tossing with the broth. You probably won’t need all three cups, but look for a moist, not soggy, mixture. Spoon into a casserole, cover with foil or a lid and bake at 350 until the top is crusty. A dusting of grated parmesan is optional but a very, very good idea. The dressing, of course, can be spooned into a turkey before roasting (we usually do) in which case it becomes stuffing.
Gravy defeats a lot of otherwise very good cooks. I fear not gravy. It’s a simple sauce, one that’s only as good as what goes into it. After that, the task is to coat particles of a starchy substance in fat, then combining it with liquid so it releases its starch to thicken everything. The key to avoiding lumps is to blend hot into hot. The gravy we favor is one we do not talk about in front of the children in our family. It involves some of the odd bits that are packed into the cavity of that Thanksgiving turkey.
When I was growing up the Thanksgiving guest list always included my two maiden aunts, who were dedicated characters. They would pack forks to visit the county fair each year, sampling avidly from the array of blue ribbon cakes and pies.
We sought not to sit next to them, not because we did not love them, but because of their pragmatic approach to dining.
They were terrible cooks, and their thought was that since everything at the table finished its journey blended together in one’s stomach, it may as well start the trip blended on one’s plate.
We cringed as they reached for the gravy boat to ladle its contents over everything on our once-carefully segregated plates.
Sherried Giblet Gravy
Place the neck other giblets less the liver in a small saucepan. Saute the liver in butter and feed it to the dog, who will be grateful for weeks. Stock rendered with a turkey liver will be strong and bitter. Add a rib of celery with leaves attached, an onion that is peeled and halved, a sliced carrot, bay leaf, 10 peppercorns, 2 sprigs fresh thyme and a dash of salt. Simmer until it is highly colored and smells done.
Strain, retaining the neck and giblets. The result should render three cups, but if it’s short, just add water. When the giblets and neck are cool enough, remove meat from the neck and chop all finely, adding to the broth.
When the turkey is done cooking, remove it from its roasting pan and spoon off as much fat as possible. Deglaze the pan with a cup of sherry, boiling it rapidly while scraping browned bits off the pan. Add the broth and bring to a boil.
In a saucepan, heat ½ stick butter and whisk it with 1/3 cup all-purpose flour until the flour starts to brown. All at once, add all the liquid and continue to whisk until it thickens. Serve hot.
For dessert, a recipe that is quite frankly not for everyone but should be. Thanksgiving dinners are long, heavy and highly flavored. To finish the feast, dessert should assert itself a little. My grandmother (remember about the curry powder?) would take one look at the ingredients and run the other way. But this one is worth a try. It is stolen wholesale from “Totally Hot: The Ultimate Hot Pepper Cookbook,” a volume devoted to a special passion of mine.
Cayenne Pumpkin Pie
Don’t fret: the cayenne in this recipe accentuates the other flavors – much in the same way that the improbable mix of ingredients in a good mole sauce does.
Crust
(Feel free to substitute sore-bought – Pillsbury is excellent)
¾ cup all-purpose flour
¼ cup whole wheat flour
½ tsp. salt
2 tsp. wheat germ
1 tbsp. finely ground pecans
2/3 cup butter, divided in half
4-5 tsp. apple juice
In a mixing bowl, combine flours, salt, wheat germ and pecans. Cut in ½ the butter finely with a pastry blender, then cut in the rest until particles are the size of giant peas. Sprinkle with apple juice a teaspoon at a time until the flour is barely moist. Gather the dough and press it into a ball. Divide in half and freeze one portion. Roll out the other half and press it into a buttered nine-inch pan, trimming the edges.
Filling
2 cups canned pumpkin
½ cup honey
½ tsp. salt
1 cup half-and-half
1 egg, beaten
½ tsp. vanilla
1 ½ tsp. cinnamon
¾ tsp. powdered ginger
½ tsp. ground nutmeg
½ tsp. ground clove
2 tsp. cayenne, less if you wish
2 tbsp. pecans ground to a fine flour
Cream for whipping
Preheat the oven to 425 degrees. Combine all filling ingredients in a mixing bowl, beating them together until smooth. Pour into the crust-lined pie pan and bake for 15 minutes, reducing the heat to 350 for another 35 minutes, or until just set.
Let cool and serve wedges topped with whipped cream.
Laurie Lemmerman-Castañeda, Pinnacle staff writer
Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday.
I don’t know how it happened, exactly, because Thanksgiving wasn’t a big deal in my family while I was growing up. I vaguely remember early Thanksgivings at my grandmother’s house in Southern California, where all the kids sat on phone books at a breakfast nook in her tiny kitchen while the adults ate in the dining room. I don’t recall it being a particularly fun time.
We moved to Sunnyvale when I was in third grade and Thanksgiving changed. My mom didn’t like cooking a big traditional dinner, especially after she went back to work. I do remember watching her cook the giblets for our cats, and deciding I would never, ever cook giblets because they smelled really bad. Sometimes, our Thanksgiving menu would feature lasagna and french bread instead of turkey and stuffing, because my dad’s birthday is Nov. 26 and every so often Thanksgiving falls on that day. My dad hated turkey and since we each got to choose what we wanted for our birthday dinners, we had lasagna.
But after moving out and starting a family of my own, I realized how much fun cooking Thanksgiving dinner can be. I love being surrounded by my husband, my four children, my mother, sisters and brothers and their kids, enjoying a meal I’ve created pretty much all on my own. I like experimenting – one year I made green beans with a light rosemary sauce and toasted almonds instead of the baby carrots with a brown sugar glaze my sister likes. I enjoyed them, but let’s just say this year we are having baby carrots. I make the cranberry-orange relish Mark mentions above, even though my husband, my mother and I are the only ones who eat it.
I also like being able to keep the leftovers. I end every Thanksgiving with a turkey sandwich on a hearty wheat bread made with just white meat turkey, mayonnaise and a little pepper. I make soup with the bones, and a turkey pot pie with leftover meat and vegetables. The best part of the day, however, is when everyone leaves with smiles and full stomachs. That’s Thanksgiving.
Lattice Top Apple Pie
I found this recipe in “Woman’s Day” magazine about 20 years ago, right after my first child was born. Apple pie has always been a favorite dessert of mine, but I hate the canned apple filling most people use when making a pie – it’s too syrupy and sickeningly sweet. What I like about this recipe is that by cutting the apples into small chunks, rather than traditional slices, you can really pack the pie full of flavor, and the syrup is light – just enough to hold everything together. And while I have a crust recipe I like, the Pillsbury ready crust tastes great and saves such much time it just makes sense to use it.
Crust:
1 box Pillsbury ready crust
Filling:
Approximately 10 Granny Smith apples, peeled and chopped into small pieces, about the size of a thumbnail (about 9 c.)
¾ c. plus 2 tbsp. apple cider
¾ c. sugar
1 tsp. ground cinnamon
2 tbsp. corn starch
Topping:
¼ c. sugar
1/8 tsp. vanilla
1 tbsp. cinnamon
1-1/2 tsp. flour
1 tbsp. melted butter
To make filling, place apples in a deep soup pot or sauce pan. Add sugar, cinnamon and ¾ cup of cider, bring to a boil over medium heat, stirring occasionally to keep apples from sticking. Mix remaining cider with corn starch and add to apples; heat until sauce is thickened and translucent. Remove from heat and cool to room temperature.
Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Take ready crust from box and bring to room temperature according to package directions. To assemble pie, place bottom crust in an ungreased 9-inch deep dish pie plate. Heat in oven about 3 minutes. Remove from oven. Place top crust on a large plate or work surface. In a small bowl, combine remaining topping ingredients. Spread melted butter over crust, and then sprinkle dry ingredients over melted butter. Cut crust into long strips.
Place filling into bottom crust. Lay strips over top of pie, creating two layers for a lattice look. Bake pie for 10 minutes at 400 degrees. Lower oven temperature to 375 and bake for an additional 50 minutes. Remove pie, cover edges of crust with foil to prevent browning, and bake for another 10 minutes until filling is bubbling underneath crust.
Serve with vanilla ice cream or whipped cream.
When I was a kid, we had canned cranberry sauce at Thanksgiving – the jellied kind my mom would cut into slices and which resembled beets. It was the only cranberry sauce I knew, and only my dad and I ate it.
I worked at a small grocery store during my college years and that first Thanksgiving on the job I noticed quite a few people buying fresh cranberries. I figured if that many people were making their own sauce, I could, too. I bought some Ocean Spray cranberries, brought them home and followed the recipe on the back of the bag. It turned out to be the easiest recipe I’ve ever tried.
Today I make the cranberry-orange relish, because no cooking is required. Either recipe is simple to make yet full of flavor. I’ve never gone back to the jellied canned sauce. I only wish I had learned how to make fresh before my dad died. I think he would have liked it.
Cranberry-Orange Relish
1 bag (16 oz.) fresh Ocean Spray cranberries
1 orange, peeled and divided into sections
1 c. sugar
Melissa Flores, Pinnacle city editor
I haven’t had much opportunity to try my hand at Thanksgiving fare. I have an aunt who hands out a list of Thanksgiving ingredients to my mom and another sister each year and gives us a deadline to turn over the goods so she can get started on the annual feast. So while we might be buying sweet potatoes, green beans or herbs, we won’t be cooking them. The most we get to do to chip in is maybe slice up some bananas and apples for the fruit salad or shred iceberg lettuce for the crab salad.
There are things I love, such as the sweet pineapple brown sugar gravy my cousin makes and the completely unhealthy fruit salad we slather in mayonnaise. And there are things I hate, such as the family recipe for stuffing which includes those giblets that come stored inside the turkey and the crab salad, since I don’t eat seafood.
One of the cool things about the holidays is that as the family grows, new dishes and traditions arrive. One of my favorite Thanksgiving staples is this simple fruit salad that was brought to the table by my aunt’s husband, who passed away long before I was born. His family cut up red delicious apples, ripe bananas and tossed them together with mayonnaise and walnuts. We took the recipe, dropped the walnuts and the apple-banana salad was born.
Sure we turned perfectly healthy fruit into a caloric nightmare, but well, we only eat it once a year.
Apple banana salad
4 red delicious apples, cored and peeled
3 bananas
1 1/2 c. mayonnaise, or until fruit is coated
1 tsp. lemon juice, optional
walnuts, optional
Core, peel and chop apples into 1-inch cubes. Slice bananas to 1/2-inch thick pieces. Mix in mayonnaise and lemon juice. Walnuts are optional.
My sister really hates gravy. Whenever we have mashed potatoes at home, she eats them plain. When we are in a hurry, we often opt for instant spuds and it is easy to get flavor with the cheesy or garlic-infused flakes on the market.
But nothing beats the slight chunkiness of homemade mashed potatoes and it’s easy to get a lot of flavor into them with just a little effort.
If I ever get to host Thanksgiving – which probably won’t happen in the next 20 years – I would make these mashed potatoes. Red potatoes cook quickly and leaving the skin on saves a preparation step. The shallot adds a hint of sweetness, while the heavy cream and sour cream add a smooth texture to the potatoes. These potatoes can stand on their own without any sauce to top them.
Creamy mashed potatoes
3 lb. red potatoes, cut in half
3/4 c. heavy cream or milk
1 shallot, finely chopped
3 tbsp. butter
5 gloves garlic
1/2 c. sour cream
Chives, finely chopped
salt and pepper to taste
Wash and cut potatoes. Red potatoes do not need to be peeled. Fill a large pot with water. Add salt and garlic cloves. Add potatoes, cover and bring to a boil. Cook for about 20 minutes, checking potatoes with a fork for softness.
While potatoes are cooking, chop shallot and melt 2 tbsp. butter in a sauce pan. Add shallots to butter and cook on medium heat for 5-6 min. Lower heat and add cream or milk to shallots. Heat through, but do not bring to a boil.
When potatoes are done, drain water and put in a large bowl. Use a potato masher or mixer to mash the potatoes to desired consistency. Add cream and shallot mix and stir in. Then add butter, salt and pepper to taste. Add sour cream and mix well, then garnish with chives. Serves 8.
Bill Row, Pinnacle graphic designer
Many, many years ago in college, some friends started a tradition to hold Thanksgiving for those who couldn’t travel home for the holiday. We still celebrate Friends’ Thanksgiving, although our numbers now include quite a few children. Although the sides change from year-to-year, this is “The Turkey” recipe. A helpful tip: Three-quarters of a pound is a lot of rosemary. The first time we cooked this, we had to clean out three grocery stores in San Francisco to get enough rosemary.
Rosemary Smoked Turkey
(Recipe courtesy of Sunset magazine)
3 tbsp. olive or salad oil
2 tbsp. minced fresh rosemary
1 tbsp. minced Italian parsley
½ tsp. black pepper
1 turkey, 16-18 lbs.
¾ pound fresh rosemary bunches, rinsed and drained
Mix together oil, minced rosemary, parsley and pepper; set aside.
To prepare turkey, remove and discard leg truss. Pull off and discard lumps of fat and remove giblets. Rinse bird inside and out; pat dry. Rinse giblets, drain and reserve for gravy. Insert a meat thermometer straight down through the thickest part of the breast to the bone.
In a large barbecue with a lid, mound and ignite 40 charcoal briquets on fire grate. When briquets are dotted with gray ash, about 15 minutes, divide in half and push to opposite side of grate. Place a metal drip pan between coals. Add 5 briquets (10 total) to each mound of coals now and every 30 minutes while cooking. Set grill 4-6 inches above coals.
Place 3-4 rosemary sprigs inside the turkey cavity. Set turkey, breast side up, on grill over drip pan. Brush turkey evenly with oil herb mixture. Push about ¼ of the rosemary sprigs through grill so that they sit on and over coals; divide sprigs equally between two coal mounds. Add another ¼ of the sprigs each time you add new coals (every 30 minutes) until they are used up.
Cover barbecue and cook turkey until thermometer reads 160 degrees, about 2-1/2 to 3 hours. Because temperature, heat control and size and shape of bird can all vary, start checking doneness after 2 hours. If parts of the turkey start to get dark before the bird is done, drape those areas with foil.
