Thanksgivukkah Recap

Well, that was quite a holiday.

Thanksgivukkah was a total thrill, from start to finish. "Start" was at 6:30 am. We finished the evening around 11. In between, we turned out one-and-a-half turkeys, two quarts of gravy, four kinds of sauces (cranberry, cranapple, pear, pear-cider jelly), 32 doughnuts (sweet and savory!), and three pies. That doesn't count the handful of bottles of wine that my parents brought; the glorious vegetarian stuffing, courtesy of my friend Jana; the five (five!) flower arrangements (biggest and most beautiful again thanks to Jana), and whatever else was arranged or consumed yesterday. It also doesn't count the scores of laughs, the countless political debates (which occurred near constantly and yet left no scars or bruises, victory!), the speeches comparing the stories of Hanukkah and Thanksgiving (just one, but it was one for the ages), and I don't know how many times someone said "mmmm" and made my heart feel as full as my stomach.

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The weeks of testing and retesting paid off. This was my third time making most everything, and by yesterday, I felt wiser for it. I knew to use a slightly larger biscuit cutter when making the cornmeal doughnuts (recipe updated) and to pipe in that cranberry curd while the sufganiyot were still warm.

The timing mostly worked out, too. That excel spreadsheet kept me on track, or even a few minutes ahead at some points. I loved nearly everything I made.

Here's the debrief with lessons learned:

Appetizers:No-knead sweet potato rolls Squash jam Cider-pear-vanilla jelly HarissaTurkey fat-fried latke with cranberry sauce and pear sauce

Second course: Kale salad with pickled radishes and pomegranate seeds Cornmeal-bourbon doughnuts filled with stuffing

Main course:Dry-brined turkey (double the dry brine; roast at 425 for 25 minutes, then at 325 until a thermometer inserted into the thickest part of the thigh reads 165; tent and rest for 30 minutes before carving) My favorite gravy, with dark roux, plenty of turkey drippings, and just a hint of cider Jana's wild mushroom-dried cherry stuffing Pear sauce Cranberry sauce with nutmeg and fresh ginger Sweet potato casserole with cornflake topping (a heavily-modified version of this, possibly the greatest hit of the evening)

Dessert: All pie crusts were this recipe, which is perfect Apple-cranberry pie with a lattice crust Brandied pumpkin pie Chocolate-bourbon pecan pieNutmeg doughnuts with cranberry curd filling

Best moment pre-Tday: stumbling into TJ Maxx with 30 minutes on the parking meter, four other stores under my belt, and no tablecloth, silver polish, gravy boat, or salad tongs to speak of. Walking out 15 minutes and $18 later with all four in hand.

Most stressful moment: the first half-hour of dinner. I was in the weeds, stuff wasn't done, and no one had a drink. Oops!

Best moments on Tday: our grandparents kvelling at getting to be guests in our house, eating our food, celebrating with us. I need nothing more. But, I will happily take any moment involving more gravy. I really love gravy.

Lessons learned:

When guests arrive, serve them a beverage. When folks started to arrive, I was in the weeds. I had semi-subconsciously decided to skip the punch, thinking we didn't have many drinkers coming over, but in retrospect, that was a mistake. Having even a light beverage to sip would have made those first 30 minutes or so more engaging for our guests, and thus less chaotic for me.  Still, the rolls and spreads helped a lot with that first chunk of time.

The latke needed more oil. Late in the game, I switched the appetizer from individual latkes to one big latke, figuring it'd be easier and less stinky to make one latke than 24. Unfortunately, I didn't test the recipe in advance. As a result, I ended up skimping on the oil and not setting the flame low enough. I burned the first one crisp. Fortunately, I made a double recipe of batter in case the first one flopped, and the second one came out better, but still not a particularly memorable dish (at least, not for me).

Kale salad

Kale salad was a huge hit. I knew I didn't have much green on the menu this year, and I had quite a few healthy types at dinner (myself included, doughnut love notwithstanding...) so instead of a light, leafy salad, I made a huge kale salad with a pungent dressing containing homemade mustard.  I really wanted a pop of red to match the flowers, so I pickled some radishes well in advance, and they turned a lovely shade of pink. The salad was kale, those radishes, and the seeds from a pomegranate. It turned out so pretty. Plus, the salad was substantial enough that it could be served as a middle course on its own, or stand up as part of the main course. I designed it this way on purpose; I figured if the dougnhuts took longer than expected, I could serve the kale while they finished up. The way things unfolded, we put out the kale salad about 3 minutes before the cornmeal doughnuts were ready. Kale went around, and cornmeal doughnuts immediately followed. The two together made for  a nice second course that everyone enjoyed while I prepped for the main event.

The half-and-half turkey strategy paid off. I had purchased one whole turkey and one half turkey. I roasted the half turkey Thanksgiving morning, carved it at about noon, laid the slices nicely on a platter, and tented it with foil. The whole bird I'd timed to finish about 15 minutes after guests arrived, and it finished precisely on time. As a result, I actually got to join our guests for salad and doughnuts before heading back to the kitchen to finish off the turkey. While D cleared plates, I rewarmed the gravy and started breaking down the whole turkey. By the time she was done clearing, I was ready with the platter of pre-carved, rewarmed turkey, which I hit with a little of the gravy before bringing it to the table. The operation was seamless; that half turkey got me all the way around the table for round one, and while everyone dug in, I finished carving and plating the whole bird, just in time to have a leisurely first helping myself before circulating seconds of everything. I'll definitely do this again.

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Out with Thanksgiving dinner; in with Thanksgiving lunch. To accommodate those who separate eating  meat/poultry and dairy, we called "dinner" for 2 pm, European style, and waited till 7 to eat all that butter-crust pie. For me, this was perfect. This sort of massive, no-holds-barred meal works much better when spread across several hours. A 2-pm start still gave me plenty of time to get everything done that morning.

and most importantly:

I love my people. Thanksgivukkah brought together my parents and D's, and both of our grandparents, along with some very good friends. We're still marveling at our good fortune that we got to have all those folks in our home yesterday, that we got to cook for my Bubby and D's Safta and Saba, for our very appreciative (and helpful!) parents and friends, and that we had the resources and the time and the plausible insanity to make the feast we ate. I love this holiday. I love everything about it. Even though Thanksgivukkah is done forever, I'm already looking forward to next year's plain old Thanksgiving.

Cheers, friends. Next up, salad. promise.

Cooking for Thanksgivukkah

The excitement started this summer, when our friends Mira and Josh alerted us to the fact that the first day of Hanukkah falls on Thanksgiving. By now, you probably know that Thanksgivvukah -- Hanukksgiving? -- comes along once every 79,000 years, and not that I'm betting against myself or anything, but guys, I think this may be our only crack at the apple.

And by apple, I mean cranberry applesauce. Hanukkah meets Thanksgiving: has a better gastronomic mash-up ever existed? (Answer: no.)

Why make jelly doughnuts when you can stuff them with cranberry curd and pumpkin pudding instead? Will regular latkes ever have a place at your table once you've told your guests how much you love and appreciate them by frying them in duck fat? And honestly, who needs skillet cornbread when you can turn that cornmeal into savory doughnuts stuffed with even more delicious things? I rest my case.

With guidance from M&J plus the inner workings of my questionably sane mind, I've put together a menu that unites the customs of these two holidays in one, happy meal of mindblowing gastronomic ecstasy. The pain-in-the-butt factor is, of course, much higher than usual, because did I mention that this only happens once every 79,000 years? So yes, a bit of potchkeing is called for.

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I'm guessing that some of you are also planning Thanksgivvukah menus. Please, pretty please share your ideas! My "final" menu is never ever final, and I'd love to change it based on your comments and suggestions.

If you're feeling super-awesome about a particular mash-up idea for the occasion, be sure to submit it to the Food52/Serious Eats Thanskgivvukkah recipe contest. And for a good laugh, watch Stephen Colbert declare Thanksgiving Under Attack.

This is going to be so fun!

Note: Many of these recipes already exist on the web and are linked below. I'll be sharing a few of them here on NDP over the next couple weeks, and I'll be sure to add the links below once I've posted them.

To Start:

• Apple Rye Punch
• Cocoa-Dusted Pears (a very tenuous nod to Hanukkah gelt. Looking for other ideas!)

The Definite Yeses:

• Sweet Potato Dinner Rolls or Sweet Potato-Olive Oil Brioche (Josh's idea; worked surprisingly well)
• Butternut Squash Soup w/Burnt Marshmallow Topping  
• Green Beans with Horseradish-Mustard Vinaigrette (according to Gil Marks, they're a traditional Hanukkah food. Good thing we always have green beans at our Thanksgiving meal.)
• Dry-Brined Turkey Breast (we're planning on following one of Bon Appetit's recommended dry-brines, which includes star anise, thyme, and a bunch of other delicious things.)
• Deep-Fried Turkey Leg (though I may chicken out at the last minute and just roast in a bourbon-cider glaze, which, you know, would be just terrible. I also might smoke the legs, which would be even more terrible.)
• Turkey Fat-Fried Potato and Sweet Potato Latkes with Cranberry Applesauce (because, obviously. Pictured above; recipe forthcoming!)
• Josh's unbelievably genius Savory Cornmeal Doughnuts Stuffed with Stuffing (Cornbread-meets-stuffing-meets-doughnut. Amazing.) Recipe forthcoming!
• Doughnut Holes Filled with Cranberry Curd and Pumpkin Pudding (half with one, half with the other) (because why only serve one doughnut when you can serve TWO DOUGHNUTS?)

The Maybes:

• Brussels Sprout Slaw (if not this, another vegetable. This meal needs something not fried)
• Butternut Butter (I've made it in past years and love it, but it might be overkill)

...and here, I should add that we are doing our "dinner" at 2pm so we can work up an appetite for our very delicious, very dairy Hanukkah/Pie Party at night, at which we will eat:

Dessert:

• Chocolate Pecan Pie
• Pumpkin Pie (one for everyone; a separate one for D, per tradition)
• Apple Sour Cream Custard Pie (I've been dreaming about this pie for months and finally, it's mine! Bwah-hah-hah)
• Let's face it: more doughnuts. Maybe apple cider fritters?

Raspberry Chocolate Hamentaschen

The Jewish holiday of Purim was my favorite as a kid. It was the one day of the year when I got to skip the skirt in favor of sweat pants at school (clue: put on a whistle and, oh look, you're a coach). We got dismissed early, had a carnival for most of the day, and ate ourselves silly. Most of that eating was hamentaschen, which friends give each other on Purim.

The one major design flaw: my mom's hamentaschen were way better than everyone else's. In the weeks before Purim started, I'd watch my mom make enough hamentaschen to feed a small army - but by the end of Purim, we'd have only one small box left, and lots of slightly-less-delicious hamentaschen from friends. Call me biased, but every year, I became something of a hoarder, finding and saving my favorite (poppy!) cookies before they were gone for another year.

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Why not make more? Because "these hamentaschen came together in a flash!" said no one, ever. But the fruits are worth the labor. And while I always make some poppy seed filling for myself and the three other people who enjoy it, this year, I've found a real crowd-pleaser: raspberry chocolate filling.

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(For those of you who looked at this picture and balked, fret not! Shortcuts after the jump.)

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The filling isn't a sauce, but it isn't jam, either. Cathy, who shared a Christine Ferber recipe that I then adapted for this purpose, calls the mixture "chocolate raspberry whatever." It's a fitting name for an indescribable but very good thing. One batch will fill about 50 hamentaschen, but if you find yourself sneaking spoonfuls of the stuff straight, don't say I didn't warn you.

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The easiest way to make chocolate raspberry whatever is to mix a jar of raspberry jam with the listed amount chocolate and a squeeze of lemon juice. If you're in the mood for some fussing, you won't regret making the riff on Cathy's recipe that I share below.

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I'm planning to take a couple three-pointed cookies in to work this week, if only to elicit the legitimate questions, "whaaa?" and "why not just make sandwich cookies?" Because then it wouldn't be Purim. (Though, this recipe would make a damn good sandwich cookie. If you try that out, give a shout in the comments.)

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GIVEAWAY RESULTS! Thanks to everyone who participated in last week's Shabby Apple giveaway. I picked a random number using the random number generator, and the result is below:

random number

Of the 31 comments not including duplicates and mine, lucky #22 won - congratulations Laura! The lovely folks at Shabby Apple will get in touch with you shortly.

Onward: let's make some hamentaschen.

Raspberry Chocolate Hamentaschenadapted from my mom and Mrs. Wheelbarrow Makes 75 cookies

the dough: 10 1/2 tablespoons butter 1/2 cup sugar 1 large egg 1 teaspoon vanilla extract zest of 1 lemon 1 teaspoon baking powder 1/2 teaspoon salt 2 1/4 cups flour, plus another 1/2 cup for rolling out the dough

For the filling: 12 oz. frozen raspberries 1/2 cup sugar juice of half a lemon 3 oz. bittersweet chocolate

First, make the sauce: Put the raspberries in a microwave-safe bowl, and heat until raspberries have thawed and exuded their liquid, about 2 minutes. don't stir the berries at all. Just let them heat up and let out their liquid. Once raspberries have thawed, strain them and either discard the liquid, or save it for another purpose.

If you want an extra-smooth filling, pass the raspberries through a food mill. This is totally not necessary.

Put the raspberries, sugar, and lemon juice into a medium pot, and heat on medium heat for a few minutes, until the sugar dissolves. Remove from the heat, and, if you didn't pass the raspberries through a food mill earlier, use a fork to mash them up now.

Add in the chocolate, return the pot to the heat, and bring just to a simmer, stirring frequently. Simmer for about 5 minutes, stirring frequently, until sauce has thickened slightly and is uniform in texture. Remove from the heat, transfer to a bowl, and either set over an ice water bath (which will cool the sauce in 10 minutes flat) or transfer to the fridge for 1 hour.

Make the dough: In the bowl of a stand mixer, cream butter and sugar for about 1 minute on medium speed. Add the egg and lemon zest, and mix 1 minute more, scraping down the bowl a couple times in between.

In a separate bowl, combine baking powder, salt, and flour. Add the dry ingredients to the butter mixture, and mix on low speed just to combine.

Gather the dough into plastic wrap or a plastic bag, compress into a solid disk, and refrigerate 30-45 minutes (much longer, and it’ll be tough to work with).

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees and line 2 large baking sheets with parchment paper or silpat.

Sprinkle a work surface liberally with flour, and roll out the dough to 1/8-inch thick. Use a 2.5-inch cutter to cut disks of dough, and immediately plop the disks onto the lined baking sheet. When the work surface is floured, the disks will pop right out when you pull up the cutter. If not, don't worry - just use a bench scraper or metal spatula to lift the disks and put them onto the baking sheet. Don't worry about spacing the disks evenly; these hamentaschen don't need much breathing room, and folded hamentaschen take up much less space than the disks.

This dough has very little liquid, so it lends itself well to re-rolling scraps. I generally work with half the dough at a time, and refrigerate the bunched scraps from one round while I bake the next batch. My oven only fits one of my cookie sheets at a time, but if yours fits multiple, feel free to shape and bake these in fewer batches than I did.

Once you've got a baking sheet full of disks, prepare your workstation: bring over your cooled filling and two small spoons, fill a small bowl with water, and get out a pastry brush.

Put a scant teaspoon of filling into the center of each disk. Use the pastry brush to brush water along the edge of each disk, and then use your thumbs and pointers to fold each disk into a triangle shape (see here for pictures).

Bake cookies for 15 minutes, until tops are slightly golden. Remove from the oven and let cool for 10 minutes before transferring. Meanwhile, fill your second sheet with cookies. By the time round 2 is ready to bake, round 1 will be cool enough to transfer, and that baking sheet will be free for batch 3.

Hamentaschen will keep in an airtight container for at least a week, probably more. They also freeze very well.

Magic Chocolate Mousse, Some Other Ideas, and a Giveaway

D and I aren't big on Valentine's Day. Forced romance and overpriced, heart-shaped dinners aren't our thing. However, I'll take pretty much any excuse to indulge in chocolate, so that, I'm on board with.

It's also my 30th birthday, which means I can do whatever I want. Right? Chocolate for all!

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We celebrated with a couple close friends at a lovely, lovely dinner on Saturday night. This coming weekend, we're taking a ladies' trip to Spa World to celebrate three birthdays at once. But tonight, after a low-key dinner with the lady, I'll be spooning out a couple small bowls of this magic chocolate mousse, which requires only 2 ingredients (salt is optional) and tastes as decadent and as thoroughly chocolate as a good chocolate mousse should. 30 years of living and 2-plus years of marriage later, I've got more than a few gray hairs, and also a wee bit of combativeness about the wonder of chocolate. So I'm going to indulge; you only live once.

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For the vegan and non-dairy inclined, this mousse can be made with chocolate and water. I prefer milk in my mouse, so I've used that here. Your choice. Either way, the process is dead simple: heat, then whip over ice water. That's really it.

And if you're feeling mighty adventurous, whip up a batch of caramelized white chocolate (which, incidentally, just got written up as a genius recipe by Kristen Miglore over at Food 52; it really is genius) and use that instead.

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The recipe is below, and if you're curious to see a play-by-play, watch the bubbly and adorable Melissa Clark demonstrate the technique here.

I've got a couple other half-baked ideas percolating that don't yet merit a full post, but as a wise old woman of 30, I've decided to post them anyway. Food for thought.

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• Bake or Break has been in my Google Reader for years, but recently, I've gotten hooked on it all over again, and spent several afternoons digging through her archives. One recent recipe that I immediately flagged was her Italian Jam Crostada, a simple simple dessert made of shortbread, jam, and almonds. Last night, I finally got around to making it. I had about a tablespoon of orange marmalade left over from the croissant I'd had at Patika in Austin (sidebar: when pastries come with jam and you don't finish it, save it; you never know when it'll come in handy), so I folded that into the shortbread dough, and then used fig jam mixed with some lemon juice as my filling. The result was fantastic, and I'd urge you to make this with whatever jam you have lying around.
• Tartine Bakery makes the best croissant I have ever eaten. The almond croissant I had in SF was so good that I got home, went right onto Amazon, and ordered their latest cookbook, Tartine Bread. I've got bread books from Peter Reinhart and Jim Lahey; I didn't exactly need another. I bought this book for the croissant recipe alone. Here's the irony: I still haven't made the croissants. What I have done is totally change the way I feed and use my sourdough starter. Tartine's method calls for less starter overall (which means less flour used on feeding each week) and a smaller portion of seed starter to make a loaf of bread. The smaller quantities suit my erstwhile approach to bread baking, and the new ratio produces a younger, milkier, less acidic-tasting loaf. I'm thrilled. And I haven't even made the croissants yet! More fun awaits.
• Last but not least, I've become obsessed with chia pudding. Chia seeds look like a cross between poppy and flax seeds, they're high in fiber and omega-3, and best of all, they plump up in liquid. Add a few tablespoons to a cup of milk, and in about 10 minutes, you'll have something that resembles tapioca pudding. I've added them to my breakfast rotation, mixing a few tablespoons with a cup of either milk or yogurt, a bit of honey, and some chopped fruit. I pour the whole thing into a jar, and by the time I get to work, I've got pudding. It's great. You can get chia seeds at health food stores or online.

And hey, happy un-birthday to you!  The kind folks at Shabby Apple have created a giveaway just for NDP readers: they're offering 10% off of any Shabby Apple apparel for all readers using the coupon code notderbypie10off. Even better, one lucky reader will win a $100 giftcard to Shabby Apple. Check out all these adorable aprons! Personal favorite: blackberry pie.

Entering is really easy. All you have to do is "like" Not Derby Pie's facebook page, "like" Shabby Apple's page, and leave a comment below. I'll pick a winner at random next Monday, February 18th. Good luck!

Hervé This' Chocolate Mousse Serves 4

One note about using milk: if you use skim, you can disregard this. Skim has the same fat content as water. But if you use milk with some fat in it, you may need to add a few more drops than you would otherwise. a scale is very helpful in executing this recipe, but if you don't have one, I would start with what looks like a bit less than 3/4 of a cup, and only add if necessary. The melted liquid should have roughly the thickness and texture of whipping cream (go figure). If it thickens too quickly when you put it over ice, just remelt, add a few more teaspoons of liquid, and march on.

8 oz. high-quality chocolate 6 oz. water or milk (roughly 3/4 cup - see headnote) ice cubes whipped cream for topping, optional

Pour water into a small saucepan, add chocolate, and stir over medium heat until chocolate has melted and you have a homogenous sauce.

Put the saucepan into a bowl partly filled with ice cubes and a half-cup or so of water (or pour into another bowl over the ice -- it will chill faster), then whisk the chocolate sauce by hand (or, if you must, with an electric mixer) until a mousse forms.

No, seriously. That will happen.

Spoon immediately into ramekins or serving bowls, top with whipped cream if using, and either serve immediately, or let set in the fridge before serving. If you're feeling crazy, sprinkle a bit of flaky salt on top. Grand.

I made this once a couple years ago and it failed, but I've since made it three times (all this week) with success. Kristen says that three things can go wrong: if the mixture doesn't set, it probably doesn't have enough chocolate. Remelt, add more chocolate, and whisk again. The opposite can happen, too - a very stiff mouse would benefit from a bit more water. Remelt, add water, repeat. Lastly, if your mixture is too grainy, you overwhipped it. No problem: just remelt and whisk up again - no need to add anything.

Happy baking!