December 2001

Thanksgiving

As in everything American right now, Thanksgiving received more play in France this year than usual. Radio interviews with Americans abounded, all of them focusing on the menu and many of them highlighting how Americans volunteer to feed the homeless on Thanksgiving. Our own Thanksgiving was no less warm than the image we felt these interviews portrayed.

I was a bit slow on the uptake this year. It was a mere ten days before Thanksgiving when I realized I'd forgotten to order turkey. It must be pointed out that turkey is eaten with gusto in France, but only on Christmas. Thus, farmers fatten their birds with that end in sight and most turkeys at the end of November are skinny little birds indeed. I called several farmers with no luck, then turned to a young butcher down the street who is my current favorite. I apologized as I asked him if he could get a turkey for me, knowing I was late in ordering. He rallied. "It won't be easy Madame Loomis, but I'll do what I can to get you a turkey," he said. "Call me in three days."

What would I do if he couldn't find one? I decided I would roast a duck, a guinea hen and a chicken, though I knew that would lack the drama of one large bird.

I called the butcher three days later and I could feel him beaming through the phone as he said "Madame Loomis, I found your turkey. Well, I found you two turkeys, and they add up to the weight of the turkey you wanted." A great shout of joy went up as I passed this news on to my family. They hadn't been real excited about the three-bird Thanksgiving either.

I have a very dear friend who brines a turkey each year, so I decided I would try her recipe. It would be a perfect situation for comparing the brined and the non-brined version side-by-side. Of course, I wasn't sure what I would brine the bird in. My son, Joe, and I set out on our scooters to see if our local Quincaillerie, or hardware store, might have something. "You need a pot à lard," the owner said. "A big, glazed crockery pot that farmers use for curing their pork."

"Do you have one?" I asked .

"Oh no," she said.

I went to an old-fashioned table-top shop that sells vinegar pots and the like, thinking they would have one, but met with nothing.

As we went on home, my mind busily trying to figure out what I would use, it occurred to me that the owner of the sporting goods shop I was just passing loved to cook, and she might have a pot à lard. I walked in the shop and was in the midst of asking her when my eye wandered to the stairway behind where she stood. On it was a pot à lard, with golf clubs sticking out of it.

"That's what I'm looking for!" I nearly yelled."Take it," she said as she grabbed the golf clubs out of it.

Joe took the scooter I'd been riding and I hefted the pot along to the house, delighted.

My trusted assistant, Kerrie Luzum, washed the pot out while I measured out ingredients for the brine. She poured water into the pot to let it soak clean, turned her back, then heard water dripping on the floor. She turned back to see it flowing out of the pot à lard which was, it turned out, severely cracked on the bottom. Oh dear, the brine was ready, so was the turkey. Michael went into his studio and returned with a battered old enameled pot and that was our turkey brining receptacle.

One turkey brined for two days, the other didn't. When they roasted, the brined turkey didn't crisp up as well as the other, but its meat was so succulent and delicately perfumed from the ginger and the bay leaves in the brine that I will definitely prepare it that way again, perfecting it so the skin is beautifully crisp. In fact, I plan to do a whole series of brined birds to see just what it does to, for instance, my favorite market chicken, the skinny guinea fowl whose meat is so lusciously flavored, rich Normandy duck. They will, no doubt, become favorite recipes in my repertoire for classes at On Rue Tatin.

Both turkeys were a stunning success with our friends, who included three Americans and nine French, as were the honey-spiced nuts, traditional sweet potato and pecan casserole from Kerrie's family, the Brussel sprouts and chestnuts in brown butter, the simple mashed Mona Lisa potatoes, the mushroom-rich stuffing, the delicate crescent rolls that rise for hours and take up just about every surface of the kitchen as they do, the cranberry pie and the pumpkin pie and the new addition this year of galanga ice cream.

More important than delicious food this year, however, when all eyes are on America and not everyone loves what they see, was the spirit of this most unique of holidays. I could feel it at our table as I explained to these friends, most of whom had not celebrated Thanksgiving with us before, the meaning of Thanksgiving. I mentioned how it is the least commercial holiday we have and how, as we cook then sit down to eat, we are remembering an event that actually happened, a moment in our history when one culture helped another survive. The two cultures developed a friendship and respect for each other which allowed them to share ideas and technology then honor it openly at the table.

French people generally look at Americans with fascination, for they see wealth, power, progress, and trend-setting in every arena. They don't always have a feel for who we really are, and when they hear about the meaning of Thanksgiving, it baffles them. After our Thanksgiving meal several of our French friends said how much in awe of Americans they had always been, and how glad they were to see us in a simpler, more human, warmer light. That is, I think, what we all need right now.

Brined Turkey

This brine was delicious, and I plan to adapt and refine it as I use it for other poultry. Stay tuned!

There is enough brine here for up to a 14-pound bird.

	2 ½ gallons (10 L) water
	2 cups coarse sea salt
	1 cup vanilla sugar
	5 dried, imported bay leaves, torn into pieces
	1 large bunch fresh thyme, rinsed and pressed to release the aroma
	Three 2-inch long pieces of ginger, cut into thin coins
	5 whole allspice berries, crushed

1. Place all the ingredients in a large stockpot, bring to a boil over medium-high heat and boil for ten minutes. Remove from the heat, cover and let cool to room temperature. Place the turkey in the brine, weight it down if necessary to keep it under the brine, and refrigerate for 48 hours.
   
   
2. Preheat the oven to 425 degrees F (220C).
   
   
3. Remove the turkey from the brine and pat it dry inside and out. Stuff it if desired. Place it in a roasting pan and roast until the skin is crisp and golden and the juices run clear when it is pierced through the leg and thigh joint (about 2-½ hours for a 7-pound, stuffed turkey, about 5-½ hours for a 12 pound, stuffed turkey).
   
   
4. Remove the turkey from the oven and turn it onto its breast side, balancing it so that any juice in it runs into the breast meat. Let it sit for at least 20 minutes before serving.

A 7-pound turkey serves about 10 people; a 12 pound turkey serves about 20 people