GI Janet

Ladies and gentlemen...Christmas has left the building.

Tree...untrimmed. Halls...undecked. Cookies...consumed.

The only hint of holiday that remains is a stack of green and red Rubbermaid boxes perched patiently in the corner of the room waiting to be slid into the rafters...hopefully sometime before Easter.

Yes, we have even carried out our ceremonial gingerbread demolition: an admittedly twisted tradition of New Year's catharsis designed to ring out the old with a flying flurry of petrified ginger cookie, neon sprinkles and hardened icing.

As I sat on the curb this morning observing the aftermath of the gingerbread Armageddon, watching the kids scoop up the last remnants of Christmas 2011, I couldn't help but wonder, when I look back at this Christmas, what will I say it was "the Christmas that..."?

My mind started to drift, as it does, and I thought for a minute about happy ghosts of Christmas past and a parade of holiday memories marked by people and places and presents that,for one reason or another, stick to my psyche like a wayward piece of unwrapped candy cane hiding at the bottom of my purse.

I remember the Christmas that Greg and I got a new baby brother and Mom let me wear my go-go boots to church.

I remember the Christmas that Diane got chosen to be Mary in the class Nativity tableau and all I got to be was a stinkin' angel.

I remember the Christmas that Charlie and I celebrated together for the first time as husband and wife in our very first house. Yes, I am wearing a jumpsuit and yes, the star at the top of the tree is made of aluminum foil.

I remember the Christmas that we thought it would be clever to photograph our 3-week-old infant as if she was popping out of a Christmas package only to realize that it was probably ill-advised given that she couldn't even hold her head up on her own. The photos ended up looking like she was being sucked down into some sort of Christmas vortex by Thing from The Addams family.

Then there was the next Christmas that we had better luck with the whole baby-in-a-box concept...

There was the Christmas that Carly got her two-wheeler...

...and the next Christmas that she got her baby brother.

And, a few years later, there was the Christmas that baby brother finally got his two-wheeler too... 

There was the Christmas that Mom got a pair of real diamond earrings, the Christmas that I got mono in high school, the Christmas that I sat on the couch most of the day holding my breath, and my water, hoping that I could get to the 26th without giving birth (thankfully William waited another week).

But, of all my "Christmases that...", the one that brings the biggest smile to my face is the one when GI Janet came to dinner.

It was 1974 and, as we did every year, Christmas was celebrated with Grandmas and Grandpas, Auntie Janet, Uncle Jack and their three kids. Each year we would alternate venues, one year at the cousins' home in Concord then the next at ours in Fairfax.

This particular year, Christmas was at home and was filled with the usual hopped-up holiday antics: kids running up and down the stairs dodging cousin cooties, an endless flow of crumpled wrapping paper swirling overhead, Karen Carpenter belting out Christmas tunes from the hi-fi and this particular year, it seems, an abundance of Almaden Chablis flowing from jug to glass.

The cousins, juiced on chocolate cake and adrenalin, thought it would be funny to heist the cigars my parents kept for guests in a cut glass jar on the coffee table and march around the house holding them between our teeth like a squad of tiny little Castros.

Not to let a parade pass her by, Auntie Janet put out her cigarette, grabbed a cigar for herself, lit it up, snatched my little brother's official General Patton plastic army helmet from beneath the tree and led her minions in triumphant splendor past the spectators laughing and raising their glasses of Creme de Menthe in tribute.

Ah, such a proud family moment. Check out Michael with the cigar in the lower right of the photo...I think he was about three.

Poor Auntie Janet never lived it down and has since been lovingly referred to as GI Janet. Even 25 years later at a family party, my Dad stuck a bowl on her head, gave her a cigar and had her strike a pose for posterity...

...at 5 or 55 I guess big brothers never really stop teasing their baby sisters.

Aside from her military fame, Auntie Janet is also a legendary cook. Perfectly prepared roasts, creamy mashed potatoes, meticulously decorated cakes, holiday meals were always a treat when Auntie Janet was at the helm. But, no matter who hosted Christmas each year, she would always be the one to belly up to the stove and take her place as the official gravy-maker in the family.

One year, when I was in high school, I think, she summoned me to her post and told me it was time I learned the tricks of the trade. For a couple of years after that, until our families started to grow and spend the holidays apart, I stood by my Auntie's side and assisted as she patiently coaxed a silken gravy out of what started out as the seemingly unsavory dregs of a steaming hot roasting pan.

One year, I realized that, without any pomp and circumstance, the whisk had been passed to me and I had become our family's "Queen of the Gravy."

This year, I asked Carly to babysit the pan while I tended to some brussel sprouts or the like. Little does she know that I have begun her clandestine initiation and my little heir, like it or not, will one day wear the dubious crown. There she is, in action below..."just a little more stock, Princess...that's it...keep whisking...".

So, if you were to ask me how I will remember this Christmas, I'm actually not quite sure how I would respond. Maybe it's the year that Patti gave me that killer Toasted Pine nut and Rosemary Brittle recipe or the year Laura made me that vintage Christmas apron complete with red dingle ball trim. Or maybe it's simply the year that an unspoken family tradition began it's journey from one generation to the next.

It's kind of OK, I think, that every year isn't a big fat "Christmas that..." marked by a landmark gift or a special event, so I'm just fine looking back at Christmas 2011 and remembering with a smile that we got through the year just fine, thank you, and stand together walking strong into the new year.

In hopes that you too might give my gravy a go and share it with your family, I roasted a chicken and snapped some photos to walk you through my version of Auntie Janet's yummy goodness. It might not fit into your January resolution for low fat living, but promise me you won't wait until next Thanksgiving to give it a try.

Here's what the roasting pan looked like after I pulled out the bird to rest on a plate nearby. Not so pretty, I know, but this is where almost every bit of the gravy's flavor originates. Before roasting,I had rubbed the chicken down with generous amounts of butter, chopped garlic, salt and pepper and shoved an onion and a lemon into it's nether regions which, despite the indignity for the chicken, gave this gravy a really, really delicious, tangy, roasted garlic flavor. 

Pour the pan juices off into a measuring cup or a gravy fat separator. The fat will rise to the top and the flavor-packed drippings will sink to the bottom. Reserve it all.

Straddle the roasting pan over two burners on the stove top and set the heat to medium-high. Pour about two tablespoons of the fat back into the pan, add two tablespoons of butter and, using a wooden spoon, scrape up the brown bits from the pan.

Sprinkle about 4 tablespoons of flour over the melted fat and blend together over the heat being careful not to burn your concoction.

Now you have a roux. Cook this for a few minutes until it starts to thicken, darken and bubble.

Start to add your stock (chicken if you have roasted a chicken, beef if you have roasted a beef), slowly incorporating it with a whisk, waiting for the gravy to thicken slightly before each addition. My gravy took about two cups of stock this time to get the the consistency I wanted.

When your gravy is almost where you want it, skim as much fat as possible off the drippings you have reserved and add the gooey goodness that remains to the mix for a real flavor boost.

Adjust your seasoning with salt and pepper if you need it and serve warm over your perfectly roasted meat. This gravy ended up light brown with little flecks of roasted garlic...one of my best I'd say. Your version may be darker or lighter depending on the state of your drippings to start. If you look at the photo of Carly working the turkey gravy above, you can see that it was really deep and dark which had a lot to do with the hours and hours of roasting and the basting of butter and white wine...yum!  Any way you slice it, it's good stuff.

GI Janet's Pan Gravy

Ingredients:

• Pan drippings
• 2 Tablespoons butter
• 1/4 cup flour
• 2 cups stock

1.) Pour all of the roasting liquid from your pan into a glass measuring cup or gravy fat separator and reserve.

2.) Straddle the pan over two burners, set the heat to medium/high, add the two Tablespoons of butter and two Tablespoons of the reserved fat which has risen to the top of your measuring cup. Scrape brown bits from pan with a wooden spoon.

3.) Sprinkle flour over melted fat and cook the roux for a few minutes until it is thick and darkened.

4.) Begin to add the stock and little at a time, incorporating fully and letting thicken after each addition.Continue adding stock until you reach your desired consistency.

5.) Remove any remaining fat from your reserved juices and add to your gravy the rich dark drippings that remain.

6.) Season with salt and pepper if needed.

Makes enough to accompany one roasted chicken and some mashed potatoes on the side.

Dressed to Kill...

At our Thanksgiving table, we serve Mom's turkey dressing with a side of baby aspirin and a glass of red wine.

Laden with butter-drenched croutons and three kinds of sausage, her killer concoction could damn up even the mightiest of arteries...just by looking at it. But, every year, we look danger square in it's beady little eye and snuggle that stuffing up to the turkey and mashed potatoes on our plate then drench the whole lot in golden gravy.

Last year, and I don't really remember why, the dressing duties fell upon me. Determined to make my own mark (and convinced I could not duplicate Mom's signature sausage surprise) I dug through my ripped up magazine archives looking for a perfect dish that I could call my own. Not to worry, tradition would be upheld featuring all of the other usual suspects (green beans with bacon, mashed potatoes, fresh cranberry sauce...), but this was my chance to see if a bird of a different feather, so to speak, would fly.

Scattered among my tattered tear sheets were many recipe options from which to choose...all touting to be the best: some with cornbread, others with oysters, some with sausage, some without. But, as I went round and round, I just kept coming back to the one with pancetta, prunes and chestnuts...just the departure from tradition I was looking for without completely risking a mealtime mutiny.

I just can't throw away a November issue!

I'd substitute bacon for the pancetta ($6 vs. $30 per pound, you do the math) and no one would be the wiser. The prunes were a little risky but I just wouldn't advertise they were in there until someone asked what the delightfully sweet surprise inside was.

Chestnuts...hum...never cooked with them but I think Grampa put them in his stuffing one year. Not that I paid much attention to those things back then, but the "kids table" was in the kitchen and I have a foggy memory of him leaning over the turkey, stuffing a chestnut studded concoction mercilessly into its cavity. I think that was the year my cousin Ricky laughed so hard at the dinner table that spaghetti shot out of his nose...but that's another story.

Does he or does he not look like the kind of kid who would shoot spaghetti out of his nose?

Speaking of stuffing, it begs the question: is it "stuffing" or is it "dressing?" To that I say, you say "toe-may-toe", I say "toe-mah-toe." In other words, it's all the same. Technically speaking, I think it's stuffing if it cooks within the nether regions of your formerly feathered friend. Dressing is baked in a casserole separate from the bird. That said, we call it stuffing in our family, even though we haven't actually stuffed it for years...go figure (too many scary salmonella stories on the news).


Anyway, my new-fangled recipe was a big hit last year so I'd like to share it with you today...just in time for Thanksgiving...if you dare.

Me? Well, Mom said she's doing the stuffing this year and actually, I can't wait. There's a lot to be said for tradition and knowing that the only ingredient she uses with more abandon than butter, is love, makes hers some of the healthiest dishes I know.


I'm bringing the pie (for the perfect crust, check out the recipe under "Recipes You've Requested" to the right of this post) or click on this link: http://makemudpies.blogspot.com/p/basic-flaky-pie-crust.html.

I made this pie last night...threw some peeled and sliced Golden Delicious apples tossed with sugar and cinnamon into the crust and topped with streusel...I think I'll have some now.

A big juicy hug to you and yours during this season of thanks. I am so grateful that you sit with me at my virtual table and indulge me in my ramblings and recipes. Like we do at our family table, pass it on...


Now, let's get that bird stuffed or dressed or whatever!


Start with the bread. I used Bordenaves Extra Sourdough bread which is one of our local favorites. For this recipe, I used 3/4 of a 1# loaf.

Preheat oven to 400°. Dice the bread into 1/3 inch cubes and spread the cubes out onto a shallow baking sheet. Toast until the bread is golden and dry and looks like this. Then place in a big bowl.

Dice your veggies.

Set aside.

Then quarter your chestnuts and prunes (the original recipe said to cut them in half but we all decided the flavors were more subtle with smaller pieces). Set aside.

Chestnuts (not water chestnuts) aren't the easiest ingredient to come by, I've found. I think it must be more of an east coast thing. Anyway, I found these at Trader Joe's and this one 6.5 ounce package seemed about right for the recipe (although the original recipe called for more). I saw some canned ones at Andronicos yesterday (a local market) but none at Safeway. Last year I actually roasted and peeled whole chestnuts in the shell because that was all I could find. It was a pain. Moral of the story...don't assume your market will have them...be prepared to make a call or two.

Cook the bacon until it is crispy, remove it from the pan with a slotted spoon and drain on a paper towel. Pour all of the fat into a clean, heat proof bowl, wipe any burnt bits up from the pan then pour two tablespoons of fat back in the pan with 1/2 stick of butter! Saute the onions and celery until softened (about 10 minutes) then add fresh sage, the cooked bacon and salt and pepper. Cook for a minute or so more.

This sage is all that's left of my pitiful little garden!

Whisk together the stock and eggs and mix everything in the big bowl with the bread. Bake in a buttered 9x13 Pyrex, loosely covered with buttered foil, for about 30 minutes, then uncovered for about 10 more or so until it reaches the brown-ness you love. Charlie likes his stuffing really wet, I like mine crispy on top and this recipe seemed to please us both.

When I made this last week to see if it was as good as I remembered, I served it to the hubby and kids with brined grilled pork chops and homemade apple sauce (I knew we'd be turkey-ed out this week). It was yum!

Chestnut, Prune and Bacon Stuffing

Preheat oven to 400°. Cube, place on a baking sheet, toast until browned an place in a large bowlt:

• 3/4# sourdough bread

Cook until browned:

• 1/2# bacon, cut into bite-size pieces

Drain the bacon, set aside, pour off the fat into a bowl, wipe out the skillet, put two tablespoons back into the skillet and melt:

• 1/2 cube of butter (4 Tbs)

Saute until soft:

• 2 cups celery, diced
• 2 1/2 cups onion, diced

Add the cooked bacon to the skillet plus these ingredients and cook for a minute then add to the big bowl:

• 1 Tbs chopped fresh sage
• 3/4 tsp salt
• 1/4 tsp pepper
• 3/4-1 cup pitted prunes, quartered
• 6.5 ounces (or about) peeled, cooked whole chestnuts, quartered

Whisk together then gently mix with other ingredients:

• 2 large eggs
• 2 1/2 cups turkey stock or store-bought chicken broth

Empty the mixture into a well-buttered 9 x 13 Pyrex, loosely cover with a buttered foil, and bake for 30 minutes. Remove the foil and bake for another 10 minutes or so until it has reached your desired crunchy-top-ness.

Serves: 6-8 (I'd say closer to 8)

Gobbled up...

Every year, about this time, I'm reminded why turkey is such a big deal come November.


If you're like me, you anticipate that unmistakable rich and smokey smell that will permeate the house all Thanksgiving day and before you've even had your first bite of bird, you'll eagerly anticipate the mile-high turkey sandwich, complete with all the fixins', that will be Friday's architectural masterpiece.


But, every year, about this time, I am also reminded why it takes me almost twelve months to invite my fat feathered friend back into the house as welcomed guest.


This year, it all started Thanksgiving evening with a lovely meal hosted by Alice and Ole (Charlie's Mom and Dad) at Meadow Club. It was spectacular...and what a treat not to have to cook this year...at least I thought. Well, I hadn't even had my first bite of professionally prepared pecan pie and I was already hankering for some homespun leftovers. So, as I chewed, I plotted...I'll cook another Thanksgiving at home on Saturday and invite some of my family that I didn't get to gorge with that day. The die was cast...

Saturday was fabulous, more bird, more stuffing (I tried a new recipe with toasted sourdough bread, roasted chestnuts and prunes this year that was crazy good) and all of the other usual suspects. Carly helped with everything, as usual, and Willy even had a hand in the feast scrubbing a couple of potatoes and snapping a few green beans.

When he tired of that, Carly kept him busy making these place cards (an idea I yanked out of Family Fun Magazine years ago...back when I thought I'd actually have time for stuff like this). Man...it's grand having a 14-year-old daughter!

Everyone left fat and happy and ladened with several Ziplocs filled with enough leftovers to fulfill their sandwich dreams. Even after all that, enough meat survived to turn the following week into a turkeyfest: turkey sandwiches, turkey and barley soup, turkey enchiladas, turkey tetrazinni...we were more stuffed than the bird herself.

Oh, I forgot! The day before Thanksgiving, Carly's 8th grade class (with the help of me and a few other moms) made Thanksgiving dinner for the residents of a local old folks home. More turkey, stuffing, green beans, cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes, gravy and pumpkin pie...all from scratch. The kids were awesome and so was the feast!

If that wasn't enough, Greg and Judy had their annual Christmas kick-off party the next weekend complete with their traditional, and much anticipated, barbecued turkey. It was spectacular, as it is every year, but I must say, after that weekend, my goose (I mean turkey) was officially cooked.


Christmas followed, and with it 33 pounds of prime rib that I cooked to serve 26 people including a baby and two vegetarians. You do the math...that's lots of leftover cooked cow.

For one week solid we fed off of the giant vat of prime rib minestrone I made from the bronto ribs not to mention prime rib french dip and plain old slabs of prime rib eaten a la Fred Flintstone. Enough with the meat already...

So, one afternoon, in desperation, I wandered out to my neglected garden to see if there was a hint of anything fresh, green, edible and/or not formerly mooing or gobbling. Here's what I found...

Humm....looks a little more like Sarah Connor's post-apocalyptic dream scene from Terminator II than the luscious bounty of green-grocery I was hoping for. Then, just when I was about to slump back into the house in defeat to gnaw on a bone, I saw this little patch of green in the upper planting bed...a surviving mini crop of arugula!

I yanked a handful out by the roots and, on my way back into the house, caught a glimpse of this little beauty, rising like a phoenix from the ashes of my pitiful little Meyer lemon tree.

What to do? Arugula, lemon...I've got some left over champagne in the fridge from Christmas...probably too flat to drink but...I'm thinking risotto. Yah...champagne risotto with Meyer lemon and arugula. Where's the beef? Not here. I'm in.

The secret to risotto is low and slow. Watch the onions and garlic...don't let them scorch. Then, pour in the rice.

Here's how the rice will look when it's almost done. Creamy, not globby, tender but with a little bite...not too mushy. Now you can add the rest of the ingredients.

I added a Parmesan crisp for garnish and I'm glad I did...I crumbled it over the top and the crunch was great.

Champagne Risotto with

Meyer Lemon and Arugula

Blanch in simmering water and mince to make 1/8 tsp.:

• several large strips of lemon zest

Heat in a saucepan:

• 3/4 cup leftover champagne
• 2-2 1/2 cups chicken stock

Cook over moderately low heat until soft:

• 2 Tbsp. olive oil
• 1/4 cup minced onion

Add and stir until it smells great:

• 1 large garlic clove minced and mashed to a paste with 1/4 tsp salt
  

Add and stir to coat:

• 3/4 cups arborio rice (available at most markets)
  

Add:

• 1 Tbs. fresh Meyer lemon juice
  

Add enough warm champagne/stock mixture to just cover and stir until absorbed. Keep adding liquid slowly, enough to just cover the rice, until all of the liquid is absorbed and the rice is creamy, tender but not mushy (it should have a little bite to it). Let each addition absorb before adding the next, stir frequently, and use more stock if you must to achieve the correct consistency. Remember, low and slow, baby.

Now add:

• 3 Tbs. butter (I said no meat, not lowfat)!
• 1/3 cups grated Parmesan cheese
• 1/2 - 3/4 cup chopped arugula
• salt and pepper to taste
  

Sprinkle with shredded or grated Parmesan cheese.

If you would like to make the Parmesan crisp, mound 1 Tbs. of shredded Parmesan per crisp on a non-stick surface (Silpat or parchment). Bake at 350 degrees until crispy (about 8 minutes).

Makes 4-6 servings as a first course.