Carol Goodman Kaufman

Turkey

A Tried and True Thanksgiving

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Here we are on the eve of Thanksgiving and the house is filled with fabulous aromas from a wide range of dishes. And while I spend most of the year trying new recipes and experimenting with new foods, both for my newspaper column and in researching my book, when the holidays come I rarely deviate from the tried and true.

Thanksgiving is one of those holidays that demand the tried and true. Comfort food is what the family wants, and of all the traditions that surround the holiday, turkey is almost universally the centerpiece. Everybody (except the vegetarians) demands turkey. (I did go on strike one year and serve chicken, but was almost disowned for that faux pas.) For me, the only reason the bird exists is as a vehicle for stuffing. I love stuffing. And since tiny changes are sometimes allowed,  a couple of times I’ve tried to stuff kasha into my turkey, but frankly, the tried and true bread stuffing is really my fave.

This year’s tiny change is that I am bumping the green beans for Brussels sprouts. It turns out that hubby never liked green beans (we’ve only been married 38 years and now he tells me). But, the kids demand both pumpkin pie and Grandma Cele’s Jello cranberry cherry mold. (These kids probably think Jello mold was served at Plymouth.)

As for mashed potatoes, this is not a dish anybody in my tribe has ever served on Thanksgiving – on any branch of either hubby’s or my family. But, when my hairdresser Shannon cried, “What?” You can’t have Thanksgiving without mashed potatoes!” I felt this might be the year to try them, perhaps because she was so passionate about the potatoes – or perhaps because she was holding a pair of sharp scissors at the time. I can’t be sure.

However, considering that the preparation of said dish is a major pain in the tuchus, I delegated the task to my first-born child, who accepted the assignment with great aplomb.

Luckily, he is as good a cook as he is a sport.

So this year, mashed potatoes will be on our family Thanksgiving table, squeezed in among the turkey, stuffing, Brussels sprouts, cranberry sauce, Jello mold, squash soufflé, apple crisp, and pumpkin pie.

Time to let out the waistband. That’s tradition.

 

Sorry, Dr. Freud, sometimes a cigar is not just a cigar

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I love cigars! No, not the brown cylindrical things that stink up the house and that grown men smuggle from Havana. (In this new age of detente, do they still need to smuggle them?)

No, I love edible cigars, the kind you find throughout the Mediterranean and Middle East.

On a recent visit in Turkey, we enjoyed lunch in a lush garden under a heavy canopy of trees that provided a welcome cooling shade — just the ticket after a full, and baking hot, morning at Ephesus.

Lunch was a series of small dishes called mezze, the Middle Eastern version of Spanish tapas or Italian antipasto.

What I love most about mezze, aside from the variety of flavors and textures, is that partaking of the small dishes forces us to pace ourselves. As one who is often guilty of eating too fast, mezze is a reminder of the importance of slowing down and enjoying life. And, surrounding ourselves with congenial folks creates an atmosphere conducive to conversation. Social support networks are usually made of friends and family, but while the eight other folks at our table were strangers when we first sat down, they became friends over our shared dining experience. Food served as the WD-40 to smooth the mechanics of getting to know one another.

Although our menu that day was determined before our arrival, dining on mezze at a restaurant is also about enjoying the process of selecting the dishes. Mezze dishes use local products that highlight the wonderful natural resources of the area, and given the virtually infinite number of ways in which a few key ingredients combine to form the dishes, it could be very easy to over-order.

At our lunch we sampled hummus, several different eggplant salads, three varieties of olives, pita, and those wonderful sigara bouregi – cheese cigars. A refreshing dessert of watermelon and grapes capped off the meal.

Would that every meal were as slow and measured as that lunch in the garden.