Indirect Heat
24 November 2011
Thanksgiving preparation: Volume 4.
This is a re-post. As you finish your preparations for your turkey feast, don't forget the gravy. This is one you can mostly do in advance.
Smoked turkey provides a bit of a challenge when it comes to making gravy. How do you catch and maintain quality drippings and schmutz when you have your turkey on a grill? Clearly not insurmountable, but a bit of a challenge nonetheless. Well, why not skip that step entirely. A stock-based gravy, then. I use a small modification to Ruhlman's version of gravy, which you can make in advance, and if you're organized, doesn't need to be some crazy last step.
Remove from heat, and set aside the roux.
Meanwhile, finely mince the onion, the heart and gizzards.
Melt the remaining butter in a pan over medium heat. Sauté the onion until translucent. Toss in the heart and gizzard bits. Turn up the heat to medium-high. Continue cooking, until you start to develop a nice layer of brown schmutz on the pan and on the outside of the meat, about 8 minutes.
Deglaze the pan with the wine. Stir to remove any delicious brown stuff on the bottom of the pan. When you've removed all the schmutz from the pan, add the turkey stock. Add back the roux, a bit at a time, until the sauce reaches the desired consistency.
Simmer over low heat for thirty minutes, to reduce slightly and to meld the flavours. Serve.
This gravy is easily as rich and flavourful as anything you make directly using drippings from the pan. And the convenience of making it a bit in advance, combined with the sheer ridiculous flavour, makes it a no-brainer to add to your turkey feast.
By Bbq Dude
Smoked turkey provides a bit of a challenge when it comes to making gravy. How do you catch and maintain quality drippings and schmutz when you have your turkey on a grill? Clearly not insurmountable, but a bit of a challenge nonetheless. Well, why not skip that step entirely. A stock-based gravy, then. I use a small modification to Ruhlman's version of gravy, which you can make in advance, and if you're organized, doesn't need to be some crazy last step.
4 tbsp flourMelt 4 tbsp of butter over medium heat. Add the flour, a bit at a time, whisking constantly. Continue to stir over medium heat while this roux darkens to a nice golden brown.
6 tbsp butter
1 large onion
kosher salt as needed
heart and gizzards
1 cup white wine
4 cups turkey stock
Remove from heat, and set aside the roux.
Meanwhile, finely mince the onion, the heart and gizzards.
Melt the remaining butter in a pan over medium heat. Sauté the onion until translucent. Toss in the heart and gizzard bits. Turn up the heat to medium-high. Continue cooking, until you start to develop a nice layer of brown schmutz on the pan and on the outside of the meat, about 8 minutes.
Deglaze the pan with the wine. Stir to remove any delicious brown stuff on the bottom of the pan. When you've removed all the schmutz from the pan, add the turkey stock. Add back the roux, a bit at a time, until the sauce reaches the desired consistency.
Simmer over low heat for thirty minutes, to reduce slightly and to meld the flavours. Serve.
This gravy is easily as rich and flavourful as anything you make directly using drippings from the pan. And the convenience of making it a bit in advance, combined with the sheer ridiculous flavour, makes it a no-brainer to add to your turkey feast.
By Bbq Dude
23 November 2011
Thanksgiving preparation: Volume 3.
This is a re-post. This is the real deal, getting ready to serve the bird for Thanksgiving.
I'm not much for the "traditional"ChristmasThanksgiving dinner. Turkey is far from my favourite bird. It's not as flavourful as goose, and certainly more dry than a duck. But I have a deal with my wife. If I make her traditional Christmas dinner, that is, turkey, cranberry sauce, salad, veggies and rhubarb pie, then I'm allowed to cook whatever I want for the rest of the holidays.
Place in a sink, so that when you add the turkey to it it doesn't overflow all over the kitchen counter. Not speaking from experience, or anything. Nope. Nope. Didn't happen to me *ever*. (At least, not since the first time).
By Bbq Dude
I'm not much for the "traditional"
Well, what better way to heighten the flavour of a turkey, than to brine it and smoke it. I start the night before with a fresh, unaltered turkey. Three points to keep in mind before you start. First is that most turkeys have been extensively injected with salty chicken or turkey broth. While that makes the flavour stronger, it also makes them fairly salty. If you brine a pre-treated turkey, you'll create an inedible salt bomb. Secondly, don't forget if you're starting with a frozen turkey, it'll take a day per 5 pounds to thaw it in the fridge, and it needs to be thawed (or nearly thawed) when you place it in the brine. We started thawing our 10 pounder a day and a half prior to brining. Third, smoking takes longer than roasting a turkey. That said, for food safety sake, don't stuff your turkey, and don't smoke a bird bigger than 16 pounds. You'll need thirty minutes per pound, so anything bigger than that will be too long in the danger zone, and you don't want to serve your family a big poultry bag of Campylobacter. You really, really don't.
Okay, the brine:
1 ½ gallon waterBoil the water to get rid of any chlorine in it. Let cool to room temperature. Mix in the salt and sugar until they're dissolved. Add the tarragon and pepper. Place in a large container. (I reserve a bucket just for brining a turkey every year - it's carefully labeled, to ensure we don't use it to bleach the floor):
1 ½ cup salt (2 ¼ cups Kosher or coarse salt - Kosher salt is flaked to make it less dense)
¾ cup sugar
½ cup dried tarragon
1 ½ tsp black pepper
Place in a sink, so that when you add the turkey to it it doesn't overflow all over the kitchen counter. Not speaking from experience, or anything. Nope. Nope. Didn't happen to me *ever*. (At least, not since the first time).
Remove the turkey neck and the bag with the guts in it, (I save the neck and heart for making gravy). Submerge the turkey in the brine, and place back in the fridge. Leave in the brine for approximately twelve hours.
The next morning, remove the turkey from the brine, briefly rinse in the sink, and pat dry.
When dry, rub the bird down with olive oil. This will crisp the skin up nicely, as there's not enough fat in turkey skin to make it nice. Truss or not. I won't discuss trussing, because my trussing skills are pretty rough (see the photos). Fire up your smoker to a toasty 225°F. Place the bird breast side up in your smoker. We're using indirect heat here. I use wet hickory for smoke (hickory that's been soaking a few hours in water) and charcoal (not briquettes - it's easier to control the heat with lump charcoal) for heat.
Smoke for thirty minutes per pound. Half way through, open up the smoker and and rotate the bird so the other side of the bird is facing the heat source.
This photo is at about three quarters done:
Sadly, photos taken after this point aren't beautiful (it got dark, and I had to use a flash). But look at that turkey deliciousness!
Take the bird down when a meat thermometer shows 180°F at multiple checked points (don't start checking too early, you don't want to put too many holes in this bird!). Let the bird rest 10-15 minutes before carving. Carve and serve.
These days, this is the only way I enjoy turkey. The smoke adds a reallllly great flavour, and the brine makes the bird salty and moist. Roast turkey is truly bland and boring in comparison. The other bonus point? Having the bird on the smoker leaves the oven free to make pie or bread or any number of other things. It's like having a second oven for the holidays.
Delicious!
By Bbq Dude
22 November 2011
Thanksgiving preparation: Volume 2.
As we prepare for Thanksgiving, we can't forget the appetizers. This is a repost of a delightful appetizer to serve your guests before dining on turkey.
I'm in danger of seeming a miso fanatic. But it's a tasty source of umami flavours, and, well... Umami!
We recently had the great fortune to dine at Morimoto Napa, while visiting the lovely wineries of Napa Valley. It's a pity I forgot my camera in the car, because in addition to being one of the tastiest meals of my life, it was also one of the most beautiful. But none of the dishes was more magnificent than the bagna càuda. It was an umami bomb coated in vegetable oil. A little blob of brown paste at the bottom of a ceramic container, covered in a deep layer of olive oil, and warmed by a candle underneath, this stuff was like heaven. Rich, sweet, delicious. A hot dip for the perfect and crisp vegetables that were served. And when I asked the server what it was, he said it was a dip made of anchovy paste, miso and dashi. Well here's my attempt to re-create that delightful umami bomb.
Traditional bagna càuda is (according to the Wikipedias) Piedmontese for "hot sauce":
as the starting point, and modified it, more olive oil (though most of it not mixed in), plus red miso - I had no dashi on hand for this attempt:
Cover with water, and bring to a boil.
Discard the boiling water, and retain the garlic. Repeat twice. These steps extract some of the stronger, bitter flavours of the garlic, and mellows it a bit. It also extracts a tiny bit of the color, resulting in pure white gloves of garlic.
Now pour in the milk. Bring the milk to a boil, and boil for ten minutes, or until the garlic is tender. Discard all but 1 tbsp of the milk. Again, this extracts some of the fat soluble bitter compounds. This is going to be some very mellow garlic.
Purée the garlic in a food processor until smooth. Add the anchovy paste, the miso, the reserved milk, salt and pepper to taste and 2 tbsp of olive oil. Purée until smooth. Refrigerate until ready to serve. When ready to serve, place some of the paste in a small serving dish. Heat in the microwave (or over a candle, if you have such an apparatus). Heat the remaining olive oil on the stove until hot and cover the hot paste with hot olive oil. Serve immediately with fresh chopped vegetables.
This was really great. Very tasty, but missing something. It wasn't as dark in colour or rich in depth of flavour as what we had at Morimoto Napa. Still, we all ate a ton of this. When I asked Mrs. Dude, "If what we had at Morimoto was an A+, and and F is the bottom grade, where does this fit?" She thought for a moment, "B-". Okay, well clearly I have some work to do to get this up to par. But really, if on any scale that Morimoto ranks an A+, I get a B-, I suppose I can't be too sad.
I'll be working on this recipe some more. Stay tuned.
By Bbq Dude
I'm in danger of seeming a miso fanatic. But it's a tasty source of umami flavours, and, well... Umami!
We recently had the great fortune to dine at Morimoto Napa, while visiting the lovely wineries of Napa Valley. It's a pity I forgot my camera in the car, because in addition to being one of the tastiest meals of my life, it was also one of the most beautiful. But none of the dishes was more magnificent than the bagna càuda. It was an umami bomb coated in vegetable oil. A little blob of brown paste at the bottom of a ceramic container, covered in a deep layer of olive oil, and warmed by a candle underneath, this stuff was like heaven. Rich, sweet, delicious. A hot dip for the perfect and crisp vegetables that were served. And when I asked the server what it was, he said it was a dip made of anchovy paste, miso and dashi. Well here's my attempt to re-create that delightful umami bomb.
Traditional bagna càuda is (according to the Wikipedias) Piedmontese for "hot sauce":
The dish, which is served and consumed in a manner similar to fondue, is made with garlic, anchovies, olive oil, butter, and in some parts of the region cream.I used the bagna càuda recipe in Morimoto: The New Art of Japanese Cooking
as the starting point, and modified it, more olive oil (though most of it not mixed in), plus red miso - I had no dashi on hand for this attempt:3 large heads garlicCrush and peel the cloves in 3 large heads of garlic.
1 cup whole milk
½ cup extra virgin olive oil
2 tsp anchovy paste
½ tsp red miso
salt and pepper
veggies
Cover with water, and bring to a boil.
Discard the boiling water, and retain the garlic. Repeat twice. These steps extract some of the stronger, bitter flavours of the garlic, and mellows it a bit. It also extracts a tiny bit of the color, resulting in pure white gloves of garlic.
Now pour in the milk. Bring the milk to a boil, and boil for ten minutes, or until the garlic is tender. Discard all but 1 tbsp of the milk. Again, this extracts some of the fat soluble bitter compounds. This is going to be some very mellow garlic.
Purée the garlic in a food processor until smooth. Add the anchovy paste, the miso, the reserved milk, salt and pepper to taste and 2 tbsp of olive oil. Purée until smooth. Refrigerate until ready to serve. When ready to serve, place some of the paste in a small serving dish. Heat in the microwave (or over a candle, if you have such an apparatus). Heat the remaining olive oil on the stove until hot and cover the hot paste with hot olive oil. Serve immediately with fresh chopped vegetables.
This was really great. Very tasty, but missing something. It wasn't as dark in colour or rich in depth of flavour as what we had at Morimoto Napa. Still, we all ate a ton of this. When I asked Mrs. Dude, "If what we had at Morimoto was an A+, and and F is the bottom grade, where does this fit?" She thought for a moment, "B-". Okay, well clearly I have some work to do to get this up to par. But really, if on any scale that Morimoto ranks an A+, I get a B-, I suppose I can't be too sad.
I'll be working on this recipe some more. Stay tuned.
By Bbq Dude
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