Not to make you panic...but do you realize that Thanksgiving is two weeks from Thursday? Holy cow.
I'm panicked.
Normally, I'm a bit high maintenance around Thanksgiving. I've only hosted Thanksgiving dinner twice. Like all women across America, I aspire to create the perfect meal amidst the ambiance inspired by the pre-jailed Martha Stewart. Like ninety percent of American women, I will stay up until the wee hours of November 25, trying to create the perfect fallacy of casually elegant dining. The pressure of this meal—the most significant meal of the year—is suffocating for those of us who are not innately domestically talented.
I accept that I will be tired. I accept that the kitchen will resemble a war zone. I even will try my best to let the kids “help,” although we all know how much less stressful it is if they would just go play Wii.
What is making me hyperventilate—just a tad—is:
My turkey flew the coop.
Seriously.
Last year, in our family's effort to eat more local foods, I bought a beautiful, organically raised, free-range, had-a-happy-life turkey. I fretted over that bird. I pampered it, brined it, roasted it...and it was heavenly. There was no going back to Butterball.
So, this year I again ordered the bird from a lovely family farm where we purchased our turkey last year. They kindly called me when the turkey returned from the processor to let me know I could pick it up.
But then life happened.
Halloween parties. (Who is crazy enough to be room mom for both kids' classes? Take a guess.) Work, sickness, too much life...I didn't get to the store to pick up the turkey, so I sent an e-mail to ask the store to hold it a bit longer for me.
And I found out the turkey flew the coop.
Unfortunately, as we all know—especially those of us with kids--things happen. My friend at the store was so apologetic—her daughter accidentally sold my bird to someone else.
Yikes.
However, proactive friend that she is, she found another organic turkey supplier who thought he would have a turkey for me...and she'd let me know as soon as it was processed.
Double yikes.
Would it be 20+ pounds? Would it be as lovely as the one from my friend's store? Would it arrive frozen? Did it truly live a happy-turkey life???
So, as is my unfortunate nature of overreacting, I began scouring websites for a back-up local turkey.
After all, we had just visited a lovely farm that raised heritage breed turkeys.
I just wouldn't tell Kristen we'd be eating one of her friends.
Sold out.
Or we'd order from another local supplier. I knew a farm where a friend got her turkey last year.
Sold out.
I'd just do a quick web-search of local turkey farmers, just in case something didn't work out with my friend's supplier.
Sold out.
Now, the civic-minded locavore in me is delighted to see the interest in and support of local turkey farmers. The Thanksgiving host in me is praying that my runner-up turkey isn't second-rate.
Truly, it's just a dinner. Right?
In fact, did you know there's no evidence that the Pilgrims ate turkey at the first Thanksgiving? For that memorable meal in November of 1621, Governor William Bradford sent four men on a “fowling” mission. We know venison, lobster, seal, swans, and corn were served...but what “fowl” made an appearance at the three-day feast is lost to history.
Maybe we'll have Thanksgiving lobster this year.
Oh, wait. That's not local.
Did you also know that no pies, cakes, or desserts were served at the first Thanksgiving? By the time of the harvest celebration, the Pilgrims had exhausted their supply of sugar...plus they didn't have ovens. Where did this pumpkin pie tradition come from, anyway?
(Thank you, History Channel.)
In fact, it wasn't until 1789 that the government issued the first Thanksgiving proclamation. George Washington called upon Americans to express their gratitude for the “happy conclusion” of the country's war for independence and the ratification of the U.S. Constitution.
And did you know Mary's Lamb also played a roll in Thanksgiving? No, thankfully—it wasn't on the menu. However, magazine editor and writer Sarah Josepha Hale launched a 36-year campaign for Thanksgiving to be recognized as a national holiday. She wrote letters to politicians, editorials in publications...and she also wrote “Mary Had a Little Lamb,” which has nothing to do with Thanksgiving.
Finally, in 1863 during the height of the Civil War, Abraham Lincoln issued a proclamation entreating all Americans to ask God to “commend to his tender care all those who have become widows, orphans, mourners or sufferers in the lamentable civil strife” and to “heal the wounds of the nation.” He scheduled Thanksgiving for the final Thursday in November, and it was celebrated on that day every year until 1939. Franklin D. Roosevelt moved the holiday up a week to encourage retail sales during the Great Depression. Roosevelt’s plan, known as “Franksgiving,” was passionately opposed. In 1941, Roosevelt signed a bill making Thanksgiving the fourth Thursday in November.
History lesson is over. I promise.
When did this turkey obsession take over the holiday? Was it Benjamin Franklin's promotion of the turkey as our national symbol, beaten by the Bald Eagle, that led to the predominance of turkey at Thanksgiving meals? According to the National Turkey Federation, 95 percent of Americans eat turkey for Thanksgiving. Why not venison? Seal? Swan?
All I know is...I'm going to have a sad family if turkey isn't on the table.
Although a back-up plan of lobster might not be bad...
So, since I'm guessing you, too, will be featuring turkey at your Thanksgiving dinner, I thought I'd share a brining recipe with you. If you were lucky enough to find a free-range, happy, organic turkey that isn't pumped full of chemicals, brining makes the turkey incredibly tender and moist. It's very simple and worth the effort.
Turkey Brine
Ingredients:
1 gallon vegetable broth 1 cup sea salt 1 tbsp. crushed dried rosemary (actually, I used fresh, and it was lovely.) 1 tbsp. dried sage 1 tbsp. dried thyme 1 tbsp. dried savory 1 gallon ice water Directions:
In a large stock pot, combine all ingredients except for the ice water. Bring to a boil over medium high heat, stirring often to ensure all salt is dissolved. Remove from heat, and let cool to room temperature.
If your pot is not large enough to hold the turkey, pour the broth mixture into a clean five gallon bucket. Stir in the ice water.
Wash and dry the turkey, making sure the innards are removed. Place the turkey, breast down, into the brine. Make sure the cavity is filled with the brine. Place the bucket into the refrigerator overnight. (I let our turkey soak in the brine for a minimum of 12 hours.)
Remove the turkey and drain excess brine. Pay dry. Discard brine.
Cook the turkey as desired. Brined turkeys cook 20 to 30 minutes faster, so watch the temperature gauge. Also—free range turkeys tend to cook more quickly than factory farmed birds. Keep an eye on your turkey!
Two weeks. Can you believe it’s almost time for Thanksgiving? I love Thanksgiving...I love the traditions, the enforced watching of the entire Macy’s Day Parade until Santa arrives. (I’ve been known to tear-up on more than one occasion.) I love making pilgrim hat cookies for the kids from marshmallows dipped in chocolate and stuck onto a chocolate cookie brim. I love sneaking bites of cold dressing, salmonella be damned. I love the pomp and circumstances of presenting the turkey and everyone getting “piecy bites,” as my dad called them, as the turkey is carved. I even remember to count my blessings on Thanksgiving, and I hope we’re teaching our kids gratitude, too.
Last year, though, was the first time I cooked a turkey. My parents always hosted us for holiday meals, working together to ensure their herd was properly stuffed. But when my mom’s Alzheimer’s progressed, my dad became the solo chef, with my sisters and me contributing side dishes. Still, the turkey was his domain.
Although my dad’s efforts were wonderful, he began to take risks with food. Not intentionally, of course, but he was getting older and forgetful, worrying about my mom. He would begin preparing food for our family’s Saturday night gatherings on Wednesday or Thursday. We would find food in his refrigerator that was long expired. Potatoes in the pantry turned to liquid. We were nervous about his health...and honestly, about our health, too.
So, to take the pressure off my dad and to ensure the well-being of our family, I cooked Thanksgiving dinner last year. I know that seems like an oxymoron, and I’m sure a few of my family members probably worried for their stomaches with me as head chef. Still, it was time. I was a little embarrassed that I had never cooked a turkey and decided that I needed to step up to the plate. I must say, with the exception of a mashed potato fiasco (ironic, as I usually make pretty good mashed potatoes), I was pretty proud of myself.
This year, I’m sad to say that there’s no battling my dad for control of Thanksgiving dinner. He died in May. Maybe we should have sucked it up and let him cook last year. He was always a much happier host than guest.
Now, I’m in a bit of a quandry. While I would love to prepare a locavore Thanksgiving, traditions are important, particularly this year. I’m not sure that my family is ready to eat Carolina rice instead of mashed potatoes and gravy. Instead, I’m again deciphering the photocopied recipes my mom gave to my sister, Marsha, when she prepared her first Thanksgiving meal. The recipes are faded, and I wish I could ask my mom why she and dad felt the need to get up at 7 a.m. to get that bird in the oven...when we never ate until 6 p.m. While I won’t get an answer from my mom, I’m glad that she’s still here.
Our Thanksgiving meal won’t be a complete showcase of local producers, but I am trying to add some local, green elements without banishing traditions. Today, we’ll focus on the star of the show:
The turkey.
In our effort to support our local farmers, I’ve ordered a local bird. He’s just down the road at Live Oak Farms (www.liveoakfarmsllc.com), awaiting his demise. I’m a little concerned, because we’ve always been a Butterball family. You should have seen my sisters’ faces when I told them that we’re eating an all natural, sustainable, pasture-raised turkey. I think Marsha’s afraid she’d be assigned to plucking duty. I can honestly say--if I needed to pluck a turkey, we’d be eating Butterball.
I’ve already had a nightmare about this turkey. I dreamed I forgot to pick it up and found myself racing through Publix, searching for a turkey on Thanksgiving Day at 4:30 p.m....and trying to thaw and cook it for a family dinner at 6. I think I’m getting a bit OCD about the turkey.Then, when talking with my friend Laura, who also ordered a local turkey (from Native Meats--www.nativemeats.com), I felt a panic attack surfacing when she mentioned brining. Brining? What have I gotten myself into? Do I need a back-up bird?
Truly, though, why does my family--including me--have such a phobia about a local, all natural turkey? Why is there such pressure for the perfect bird? I know it’s the centerpiece of the meal, the proverbial star attraction...but it’s not like we’re going to starve if I screw it up.
It’s a tricky issue, talking about mass-produced poultry when the holidays are around the corner. I’ve seen and read enough about industrialized poultry to permanently change my purchasing habits, but I’m not going to share the (horrifying) details here. The reality is--plenty of people will buy factory farmed turkeys, and I’m not going to be responsible for ruining your appetite. If you want to know what I’m talking about, check out www.farmsanctuary.org...but be warned.
The other issue is--I have no idea what kind of turkey I’ve reserved. I requested a 20+ pound turkey, and a turkey is a turkey is a turkey...right? Well, that’s true for the majority of turkeys--99 percent of turkeys raised in America are from a single breed--”Broadbreasted White.” These turkeys are produced because of their large, white, meaty breasts. Unfortunately, in our quest for lots of white meat, these poor birds are bred so top-heavy that they can’t fly nor reproduce naturally. Without the aid of humans performing artificial insemination, Broadbreasted White factory farmed turkeys would be extinct in one generation, according to the website www.sustainabletable.org.
I ordered a happy turkey, one that actually lived a nice life outside, scratching around for grubs, bugs and grasses instead of ingesting only grains and antibiotics...but I had no idea the various turkeys that are available when I placed my order. So, to save you some headaches in buying your own happy bird, here’s a cheat sheet for purchasing a turkey:
Conventional: Think of the masses of turkeys at your local supermarket. These birds are factory farmed, raised in a facility that provides protection from predators and bad weather. Because of the crammed living quarters, factory farmed turkeys receive antibiotics to control diseases.
Conventional turkeys don’t have much of a turkey life--they’re inside for the duration. I promised, though...I’m not getting into the nitty gritty of their sad lives. I’ve definitely eaten my share of conventionally raised turkeys.
Organic: USDA Certification is key for an organic turkey. The turkey must be raised on land that has been free of pesticides and other prohibited substances for three years. The food provided to the turkey must be pesticide free. For more information on organic rules and regulations, check out the www.usda.gov
Unfortunately, it’s tough for small farmers to receive organic certification. The same individuals who raised organic produce or meats before it became trendy now must compete with lobbyists representing industrial food manufacturers--who also crave the “organic” label to attract today’s green-savvy customer. Organic certification, when run by bureaucrats, is expensive and time consuming. Plus, the factory farms put pressure on the government to relax standards so they can meet the organic certification criteria.
Many small, organic farmers, who actually exceed the USDA organic standards, refuse to invest in the organic certification process. Instead, they promote themselves as “sustainable.” Sustainable is good. I would definitely buy food from a local sustainable farmer, because I know that’s code for organic, humane, environmentally responsible farming.
Heirloom: You’ve heard of heirloom tomatoes...but heirloom turkeys? Heirloom turkeys’ ancestors pre-date the industrial food era and are important for genetic diversity. With the Broadbreasted White factory farmed turkeys, which are genetically identical, an illness could quickly spread through that breed and eliminate it. Heirloom turkeys’ diversity ensures the survival of the species.
The meat is also unique--firm texture, with light meat an “almond” color. These birds take longer to raise, and they are more expensive than conventionally raised turkeys. But--they also live a happy turkey life: they are raised outside, freely roam on pasture, reproduce naturally, and eat a varied, natural diet.Most heritage breeds are near extinction. Slow Foods USA (www.slowfoodsusa.org), an organization committed to supporting “good, clean, fair food,” works to increase the awareness of heritage breeds among consumers. It’s Economics 101: by increasing demand for heritage breeds, farmers will increase production of heritage breeds, thus ensuring their survival.Check out www.localharvest.org to find sources in your area for heritage breeds.
Pastured: Turkeys are raised outside, ensuring they eat a natural diet. Their meat may be richer in omega oils because of their grass diet.
Free-range: Be careful with the free-range label. Poultry with a free-range label means that the birds are not confined to cages, and the USDA requires they have access to the outdoors. However, as long as one small door provides access to a small dirt or gravel yard, rather than a pasture, these birds qualify as “free-range.” Many producers exceed the limited requirements--but read the labels or talk to your local provider.
Confused yet?
Who knew there are so many turkey options?
I ordered our turkey before I really thought too much about it. My goal was to support a local farmer, and I’m feeling good about that, at least. I’ve e-mailed Allison at Live Oak Farms to find out exactly what I ordered. I’m sure she and her husband will have a good laugh at my turkey trauma. I already e-mailed her a few days ago to find out the specifics...when to pick it up, will it be fresh or frozen? I also shared with her the story of my turkey nightmare--at least I provided her with a good laugh!
Where do you buy your turkey? Have you ever purchased from a local provider and if so, where? For those of you foodies--please tell me, what is brining??? I think I’d better Google that ASAP.
So, my feasting friends...tomorrow I’ll tackle something a little easier...local desserts. I think I can pull off a local dessert without breaking tradition.
