A year ago, I took the liberty of bragging about
Thanksgiving at my parents' house. While my Mom irons the tablecloth and napkins, sets the tables and scrutinizes over seating arrangements, my Dad prepares a meal over a 28 hour time frame that is quite nearly perfection: turkey, dressing, and giblet enhanced gravy; cloud-like mashed potatoes, peas, and jewel-like cranberry molds that proudly assert themselves on silver platters; a basket full of Parker House rolls (and cornbread), Aunt Dee's pumpkin pies, Aunt Joyce's signature turkey cookies, and a happy, hungry family spread around the perimeter of three tables.
After
volunteering to host the holiday this year, I started to get a little nervous. Sure, I'd been helping my Dad in the kitchen all my life. But I'm a perfectionist. The bar that's been set is sky high; I have one of the smallest kitchens in the Western Suburbs; and my Dad wouldn't be here to coach and assist.
It started with a Sunday evening phone call. I told my Dad that I was going to host Thanksgiving and pleaded for the tricks to his masterful performance. While much of it comes from 30 years of practice - getting the timing, tuning and trimming just right; the recipes and recommendations that make up this supper are in a letter that my Grandma wrote to my Dad back in November of 1982. I would have been eight months old at the time. My Dad made a copy of the letter and sent it to me.
In about seven pages, my Grandma details her methodology for the perfect turkey dinner. From making a rich stock the night before using the turkey neck and giblets, to drying cubed bread in the oven overnight, to using the stock and minced giblets to moisten and season the stuffing before carefully filling the bird. Her beautiful handwriting taught me the finer points of buttering, basting, and baking. And through her words, I was able to recreate flavorful gravy and carefully, gently remove her pure cranberry mold onto a silver platter.
Having her handwritten words at my side, brought her and my Dad to the kitchen with me. I could particularly hear her in the side comments throughout her instructions.
'We use the neck for snacking the day before.'
'Baste every 45 minutes. Careful, it's hot! Keep Erin and Lauren away.'
And when I came to the end, I wanted to hear more. Mostly because it was unfinished. The last page or so of the letter was lost a long time ago.
She writes,
'I always get excited about the holiday season. I love it. I have our turkey. I had one planned while you were here last summer, but you had to leave too soon. Really this is easy. I know ...'
I know what?
... that my Dad would make her proud in the kitchen?
... that he would ultimately start playing host year after to year to a growing family that branches into three rooms of seating?
... that he would one day pass on her notes to his daughter, who wanted to carry on her Grandma's traditions in her own small Midwestern kitchen?
... that her granddaughter would one day show her great granddaughter how to create the same feast?
... that ultimately, she would reach hundreds through her recipes?
I don't know. I wish I did.
What I hope though, is that over the past couple days, I made my Grandma and Dad proud of their turkey, stuffing, gravy and cranberries.
I hope I made my Mom proud of my starched linens, place cards, and table settings.
I hope I made Peggy, Jan, Claire, Trent, and Ellie proud to have come over.
And I hope they all would have been proud of my own sweet addition to the table.
Just a couple words of wisdom to the first time holiday hosts out there. Start small - a party of seven was manageable. Get some helpers involved. Try not to be six months pregnant. And make sure there is a host to your hostess. The guy pouring the drinks, passing the pistachios, carving the turkey, and taking Ellie to see the
feeeesh(!) is invaluable.
Lo.
Poached Pear Tart (Adapted from Bon Appetit)
Ingredients:
Pears
2 large Bartlett pears, peeled
4 cups water
Half of a lemon, juiced
1 cup sugar
Crust
1/2 cup powdered sugar
1/4 cup slivered almonds
1/4 teaspoon salt
8 tablespoons butter, cut into pieces
1 large egg yolk
1 1/4 cups all purpose flour
1/4 cup ice water
Filling
2/3 cup slivered almonds
1 tablespoon all purpose flour
7 tablespoons sugar
6 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted, but cooled
1 large egg
1/4 teaspoon almond extract
Directions:
Each of these steps can be made up to two days ahead of time. I would recommend doing this as the flavors build this way.
For the pears: Bring water, sugar and lemon juice to a boil, until sugar is dissolved. Add whole pears. Simmer on medium to medium high heat for 20 minutes. Let the pears cool in their juice. Refrigerate.
For the crust: In a food processor, pulse almonds and powered sugar until fine. In a large bowl, mix together with flour and salt. Using a pastry blender, mix in butter until the mixture looks like pea-size crumbs. Add egg yolk and water a tablespoon at a time, just until the dough comes together. Cover and chill in refrigerator.
For the filling: In a food processor, combine almonds and flour. Add sugar, butter, egg and almond extract. Pulse until smooth. Chill in refrigerator.
When you are ready to bake, preheat oven to 375 degrees. Roll out the dough to fill a large tart pan and press inside the bottom of the pan. (Bon Appetit recommends leaving a 1/2 inch around the edges, then folding it back into the pan to make the crust double thick. I didn't do this, but I think it would have made for a richer crust.) Cover inside with aluminum foil and fill with beans or a couple pie weights. Bake in the oven for 25 minutes. Remove and let cool. Reduce temperature of oven to 350 degrees.
Meanwhile, take out pears. Take off stems, core, and cut into eight equal quarters. Then cut 1/2 inch indentations into the pear parts, horizontally. Carefully splay them a bit. (They will splay more in the oven though, so don't get concerned if they don't look like the picture at this point.)
Fill tart shell with almond filling and gently arrange each pear part. Bake at 350 degrees for 50 - 55 minutes until filling is golden brown. Let cool and set out until you serve. Top with sifted powered sugar.
