Melissa Clark's Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving mornings were chaos when I was a kid, and my dad was always in the middle of it. There'd be butter splattering from the turkey basting, pans of mushrooms hissing. It was always right at the most hectic moment when he'd look up, tears in his eyes (from the onions he was chopping), and declare, “Thanksgiving is the best holiday, because it's all about the food.” What he was talking about was not just the meal itself, but the messy, convivial process of everyone cooking it together: the garlic mincing, vegetable trimming and pie dough rolling, all punctuated by the chatting, kvetching and endless debate over the paprika in the brussels sprouts and whether the turkey was done. For me, the joy comes in pressing the butter into the flour with my fingers, trying to get the lightest, airiest pie crust, while my husband, Daniel, mashes butter and bourbon into the sweet potatoes, humming to the Bowie he's put on the morning's playlist. My daughter, Dahlia, likes to pick the leaves off herbs and nibble on marshmallows when she imagines no one is looking. As friends and family arrive, they end up in the kitchen too, wine glasses and potato peelers pressed into their hands. And just as when I was a kid, there's the chatting, the kvetching and the endless debate about whether to put candied ginger in the pie or the ice cream — and whether the turkey is finally done. Then there's strategizing, experimenting, tweaking. Thanksgiving is the most traditional dinner on the calendar, so I like to subvert it just a little, figuring out how to take an unchanging menu and reimagine it every time without losing its comforting essence. I realize it may not be like this for everyone. Cooking Thanksgiving can be stressful. Expectations run high, turkeys burn, pies bubble over. But I believe that if you engineer your day so you can cook with those you love and find happiness doing it, no one will notice if the white meat's a little dry. (That's what gravy is for.) My dad passed away last year, a few weeks before Thanksgiving, so we skipped the big feast, sharing bagels and lox instead. It was too soon to do it without him. This year we're finding our rhythm again, and I'll host at my place for the first time. I'll be making the dishes you see here, the food we love. There'll be far too much of it, but that's O.K. Thanksgiving, of course, is all about the food.

Unknown

Preparing Time: 15 minutes
Total Time: 30 minutes
Served Person: 0

white meat free gluten free red meat free contains dairy contains eggs dairy free pescatarian

Carbohydrate 638.517308696205 g
Cholesterol 33083.3150004602 mg
Fat 1380.33253492378 g
Fiber 88.8391417522838 g
Protein 512.471718301646 g
Saturated Fat 534.595064195299 g
Serving Size 1 1 recipe (9591g)
Sodium 13033.6159431409 mg
Sugar 549.678166943921 g
Trans Fat 70.5217949309505 g
Calories 16918 calories

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Step-by-step

In a blender, small food processor or large mortar and pestle, combine garlic, anchovies, rosemary, capers and pepper and 1/2 teaspoon salt per pound of turkey (i.e. 5 teaspoons salt for a 10-pound turkey). Process or pound to a paste.
Place a wire rack on top of a rimmed baking sheet. Cut tiny slits all over turkey legs. Rub two-thirds of the paste all over the turkey, under its skin and in the cavity, then stuff remaining paste into holes in the legs. Transfer to the rack on the baking sheet and refrigerate uncovered overnight or for up to 3 days.
Remove turkey from the refrigerator 1 hour before roasting.
Heat oven to 450 degrees. Scatter onion, shallots, fennel and lemon in a roasting pan fitted with a rack. Pour in wine and 1 cup water, then add enough turkey or chicken stock so there is 1/4 inch of liquid in the pan. Place turkey on the roasting rack and brush with oil. Roast for 30 minutes, then cover breast with foil.
Reduce oven to 350 degrees and continue to roast until an instant-read thermometer inserted into the thickest part of the thigh reads 165 degrees, 1 1/2 to 2 hours longer. If the bottom of the pan dries out entirely, add a little more stock to keep it from burning. Remove from oven and let rest 10 minutes on the roasting rack. Transfer to cutting board and rest another 10 to 15 minutes before carving and serving.
While the turkey rests, make the gravy: Remove the roasting rack and use a slotted spoon to remove lemon slices, onions, shallots and fennel from the pan. Pour in wine and bring to a simmer over medium heat, scraping up the browned bits on the bottom of the pan. Simmer until liquid is nearly evaporated, then whisk in butter and flour. Let it cook, whisking, until flour mixture turns pale gold, about 3 minutes. Whisk in stock and tarragon, if using. Bring to a simmer and heat until thickened, about 3 to 5 minutes, whisking occasionally. If you want a very smooth gravy you can blend in a blender or pass the mixture through a sieve. Or serve as is. Taste and add salt if necessary.
Arrange brioche pieces in a single layer on a rimmed baking sheet. Let them dry out overnight, or place them in a 200-degree oven for an hour or two. (They’ll be ready when they feel stale to the touch but haven't taken on any color.)
Heat oven to 375 degrees, and butter a shallow, 2-quart casserole or gratin dish. On a pot on the stove or in the microwave, melt 4 tablespoons butter. Put bread in the prepared baking dish and toss with melted butter. Bake until golden and toasted, 8 to 10 minutes. Let cool, then transfer toast to a large bowl. (Don’t wash the baking dish; you’ll use it again for the stuffing.)
In a 12-inch skillet, melt remaining 4 tablespoons butter over medium heat. Stir in onion, celery, fennel and 1/2 teaspoon salt; cook until soft and just starting to brown, about 12 minutes. Stir in thyme and sage, and cook for 1 minute. Remove from heat and transfer to bowl with brioche. Gently fold in chestnuts and pepper and let cool.
In a medium bowl, whisk together 1 1/2 cups stock, eggs, parsley and remaining 1 teaspoon salt. Fold gently into bread mixture, then scrape it all back into prepared baking dish. Drizzle on remaining 1 cup stock until the mixture is moist but not squishy; you may not need all the stock.
Cover dish with foil and bake until lightly springy, about 25 minutes. Remove foil and continue to bake until golden brown, another 20 to 30 minutes.
Heat oven to 450 degrees. On a rimmed baking sheet, toss together the potatoes, duck fat, salt and pepper. Lay thyme sprigs and bay leaves on top.
Roast for 30 minutes, then toss the garlic into the potatoes and reduce oven heat to 350 degrees. Continue to roast until potatoes are fork-tender, another 15 to 25 minutes. Remove thyme and bay leaves and serve, or let cool for up to an hour then reheat, uncovered, at 350 degrees just before serving.
Heat oven to 350 degrees. Wrap potatoes in foil, place on a rimmed baking sheet, and bake until tender, about 1 hour. Let rest until cool enough to handle but still warm, then remove the foil and peel off the skins.
Add sweet potatoes to a food processor, along with butter, brown sugar, bourbon or juice, lemon zest, salt, nutmeg, pepper and cloves. Purée until smooth. (Or, for a chunkier texture, mash them by hand.) Taste and add salt, sugar or both if you like. Serve while still warm or reheat before serving.
Place cranberries and honey in a food processor. Pulse until chopped (but not too finely), then taste and stir in more honey if needed. At this point, the relish can be refrigerated for up to 24 hours before serving. If the liquid separates, give it a stir.
Stir pistachios and pomegranate seeds into cranberry mixture and serve.
Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Add broccoli and cook until just tender, 1 to 3 minutes. Drain well and transfer to a large bowl.
Heat oil in a small pot over medium heat. In batches, so they don’t crowd the pot, fry shallots until light golden, 4 to 6 minutes, using a slotted spoon to transfer them to a paper towel-lined plate once they've cooked. Sprinkle the fried shallots with salt as you go. If the shallots start to brown too quickly, lower the heat.
Keep the oil in the pot, and carefully stir in garlic and olives. Cook until garlic starts to turn golden, about 3 minutes. Pour the hot oil, including garlic and olives, over the broccoli, then sprinkle with salt and taste. If you'd like it to be brighter, toss in the vinegar. Serve broccoli with fried shallots on top.
In a blender, combine lemon juice, garlic and kosher salt. Let sit for 2 minutes, then add anchovies and parsley, and blend to combine.
With blender running, drizzle in oil until emulsified. Taste and add more lemon or kosher salt if necessary.
In a large bowl, toss together arugula and just enough of the dressing to coat the leaves (you may not need all of it). Sprinkle with flaky sea salt and pepper and serve immediately.
Make the crust: In a large bowl, whisk together the flour and salt. Using your fingers, rub in the butter until it is the size of peas. Drizzle in water until the dough comes together when squeezed.
Transfer dough to a lightly floured surface. Working a palm-size chunk at a time, use the heel of your hand to smear the dough across the work surface. Continue until all the dough has been smeared, then gather it all together, flatten into a disk, and wrap in plastic wrap. Chill for at least 1 hour and up to 2 days.
On a lightly floured surface, roll dough into a 12-inch circle. Transfer to a 9-inch pie plate; fold the edges over and crimp. Prick crust all over with a fork and chill for at least 30 minutes.
Heat oven to 425 degrees. Line chilled crust with foil and pie weights, then bake for 15 minutes. Remove foil and bake until pale golden, 5 to 10 minutes longer. Transfer to a rack to cool. Lower oven temperature to 325 degrees.
Make the filling: In a medium pot, combine the cream, cinnamon stick, star anise petals, clove, fresh ginger, cardamom and peppercorns, and bring to a simmer. Remove from heat, cover, and let steep for 1 hour. Strain through a fine-mesh sieve into a large bowl.
Whisk in pumpkin, brown sugar, eggs, yolks, rum, ground ginger, salt and nutmeg. Pour into par-baked shell, transfer to a baking sheet, and bake until crust is golden and center is slightly jiggly, 50 to 60 minutes. Cool completely before serving.
In a medium pot, combine cream, milk, sugar, ginger, cinnamon, clove and salt. Bring to a simmer over medium heat, then cover, remove from heat, and let steep for 1 hour.
In a medium bowl, whisk the yolks. Whisking constantly, slowly whisk about a third of the cream into the yolks, then whisk yolk mixture back into the pot with the cream. Return pot to medium-low heat and gently cook until mixture is thick enough to coat the back of a spoon (about 170 degrees on an instant-read thermometer).
Strain through a fine-mesh sieve into a bowl. Cool mixture to room temperature. Cover and chill at least 4 hours or overnight. Churn in an ice cream machine according to the manufacturer's instructions, adding the candied ginger during the last few seconds of churning. Serve directly from the machine for soft serve, or store in freezer until needed. Serve topped with extra candied ginger if desired.

Melissa Clark's Thanksgiving Tradition: A Culinary Celebration

Thanksgiving. The word itself conjures images of overflowing tables, the warmth of family, and the comforting aroma of roasted turkey. For many, it’s a day filled with tradition, a time-honored ritual passed down through generations. But for me, Thanksgiving is more than just a holiday; it’s a culinary adventure, a joyful chaos of shared laughter, whispered secrets, and the satisfying clink of wine glasses in a kitchen bustling with activity.

My childhood Thanksgivings were a whirlwind of activity, a whirlwind orchestrated by my father, a man who believed the essence of the holiday lay not merely in the food itself, but in the very act of creating it together. The kitchen, usually a space of quiet order, became a vibrant hub, the air thick with the comforting smells of roasting turkey, simmering gravy, and sweet potatoes caramelizing in the oven. The sounds of sizzling pans, chopping vegetables, and lively conversation created a soundtrack to our holiday traditions. Those memories are etched in my heart, as vivid as the taste of my father's perfectly roasted turkey.

Years later, these Thanksgiving traditions continue, but with a few personal touches. Now, it's my husband, Daniel, and daughter, Dahlia, who join me in the kitchen, each contributing their own unique energy and charm to our Thanksgiving preparations. Daniel's humming along to Bowie while he mashes sweet potatoes with butter and bourbon, a rhythmic counterpoint to Dahlia's playful picking of herbs and surreptitious nibbling of marshmallows. The warmth and love we share in that bustling kitchen are the true ingredients of our Thanksgiving.

But Thanksgiving isn't without its challenges. The sheer volume of dishes, the ever-present pressure to create a perfect meal, the potential for culinary mishaps—these can create stress. Yet, for me, the spirit of Thanksgiving lies not in achieving perfection, but in embracing the process. Even if the turkey is a touch dry (and we all know gravy is the ultimate solution to that!), the imperfections are part of the story, adding layers to the tapestry of our shared memories.

This year, hosting Thanksgiving at my home for the first time holds a special significance. Last year, we celebrated more simply, reflecting on the loss of my father, whose love for Thanksgiving and its culinary traditions made it so special. This year, as we gather once more, the spirit of Thanksgiving, the spirit of family, will infuse our meal with even deeper meaning. The abundance of food, the rich flavors, the lively conversations—it's all a testament to the enduring power of family, tradition, and the simple joy of sharing a meal with loved ones.

So, as you embark on your own Thanksgiving preparations, remember that the true magic lies not in following a recipe to the letter, but in embracing the imperfections, the laughter, and the love that fills your kitchen. Let the aroma of roasting turkey, the warmth of family, and the satisfaction of a meal created together be your guide, a testament to the enduring spirit of Thanksgiving.

It's not just about the food; it's about the love, the laughter, and the memories made in the kitchen, year after year. Happy Thanksgiving.

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Melissa Clark's Thanksgiving

Ingredients

Nutrition facts

Step-by-step

Melissa Clark's Thanksgiving Tradition: A Culinary Celebration