The Day After

My late maternal grandmother was a tightwad. The only thing that was ever able get her wallet open was a good-looking looking young man with a economy-size can of WD-40. When we were young we thought it was the Depression that had caused her to be cheap. When we were older, we realised it was her personalitiy that caused her to be cheap. She was proud of being cheap. By the time she hit her 70th decade, being cheap was what made her tick.

My grandmother was also a good cook. And it goes without saying that she could stretch a meal farther than anyone. When in Maine, our lobsterfeasts were always followed by lobster rolls for lunch the next day. There was always more celery than lobstermeat in our rolls. But because of my grandmother's spice mixture in the mayonnaise, the Humpty Dumpty potato chips that accompanied the rolls and the fact that we were sitting on the porch staring at the ocean while eating them, we thought they were the most delicious rolls ever. My grandmother actually ruined my tastebuds for restaurant-quality lobster roll because restaurant-quality lobster rolls are just lobster and loads of lobster at that. They are too rich in flavour for me. Thanks Nanny...

In the old days we always went to my cousins in Massachusetts for Thanksgiving. Those were great feasts with home-grown oysters for starters. But when my much-older sister, the Headmistress, was about 15, she received her first invitation to ride in the Thanksgiving Day Hunt. Since that was quite the honor, we stayed put in Connecticut and blew off our cousins in Massachusetts. My grandparents came down from Cambridge to join in the Thanksgiving festivities.

Early Thanksgiving morning, we all arose and had breakfast. My grandmother stayed home to oversee the 22 lb. turkey. My sister dressed in her best riding habit while the rest of us put on layers of warm clothing. Then, locating all the binoculars we could find, we piled into the family wagon. We dropped my sister off at her barn and then we headed over to the field that was the staging area. By the time we arrived, the Master of the Hounds and all of his huntsmen were assembled in their glorious hunting pink and the lesser-trained beagles, fox hounds, Jack Russells and corgis were racing about, all trying to kill each other, in between the horses, ponies and spectators. Eventually, my sister came through the fields with her group. My mother, already well into her stirrup cup, cheered as she and her horse pulled up. My sister was given her first stirrup cup as the Master of the Hounds, knowing it was her first hunt, told her she needed it to keep warm. My mom stood there with her jaw dropped not because her 15 year-old daughter was drinking sherry but because how gosh darn attractive the Master of the Hounds was. She would have let my sister have a vodka and tonic if he had said so. The Master of the Hounds also told my sister which fence was going to be the trickiest and to not hesitate or she'd get her horse injured. (Horses are always more important than the people who ride them) Soon the bugle sounded and they were off. What a sight to behold. Then we were off.

With my grandfather at the wheel we went and followed the hounds. It was great fun. And we made it to each jump before they did. We even saw my sister approach the trickiest fence. Her horse's ears went back and we feared the worse. But she applied her spurs and her crop and they took it very nicely. We all cheered but my mom cheered the loudest because she knew the Master of the Hounds would be pleased with my sister's pluck. Then we quickly moved on to the next fence. Since the hunt ended without a major incident to any of the horses or dogs there were many, many rounds of stirrup cups on the Village Green. My mother said a wishful good bye to the Master of the Hounds and it was time to head home. What we did not know that day when we left, was, that thanks to the anti-hunting crowd and all the new homeowners with untrained dogs in new homes along the bridal trail network, that we had just witnessed the final Thanksgiving Day Hunt. Thankfully, it was a glorious finale.

Soon after we arrived home, we all tucked into a Thanksgiving meal that my grandmother had prepared almost single-handedly. It was delicious. Of course with such an enormous turkey there was always loads of leftovers. We had the traditional Day Afters. A Day After in our home meant turkey sprinkled with celery salt, because my grandmother believed the celery salt added something that regular salt didn't, stuffing, and cranberry sauce in between two slices of Pepperidge Farm bread. Yum. Then we'd have turkey stew. And a day or two later, when the carcass of the turkey was close to bare, we'd have turkey soup. My grandmother would simmer the turkey carcass whole, with aromatic vegetables always including one parsnip, because she believed the parsnip added a special flavor, and wide egg noodles. It was not a rich-flavoured turkey soup but we loved it. Then, when the carcass was removed from the soup pot, my grandfather took it to the backyard and hung it up in one of the old apple trees. My grandmother, exhausted from all of her cooking, sat in a wing chair by the window and to watch the Blue Jays land on the carcass and extract what little, if anything remained on that carcass. She told us my grandfather's father always used to do this with the Thanksgiving turkey. Eventally all this Blue Jay activity woke up the cat and she slunk out to the tree. That was when my grandmother called us to come and watch. We watched the cat climb the tree and walk out onto the limb from which the carcass was suspended by kitchen string. After a lot of sniffing about, the cat jumped inside the carcass. One inside she looked at us in the window probably because she heard us laughing. The wind was up a bit and she did look quite silly swaying in a old turkey carcass suspended from a tree. Then, she decided to ignore us and chew on the carcass. That movement was all the kitchen string needed to finally snap. Down went the cat in the carcass onto the slate patio below. The carcass snapped in two and the cat walked away with her ears back and tail down because she could hear us all roaring with laughter...

1 turkey carcass, broken into large pieces
2 ribs celery, chopped coarse, plus 2 ribs of celery pre-cooked
3 carrots, chopped coarse, plus 2 cups sliced carrots pre-cooked
1 parsnip sliced and pre-cooked with the carrots
3 garlic cloves
2 small onions, quartered
1 teaspoon black peppercorns
1 (28-ounce) can plum tomatoes, chopped coarse and drained well in a colander
6 ounces wide egg noodles
1/4 cup finely chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley leaves
6fresh thyme sprigs or a teasoon of dried thyme
Salt and pepper

Make sure all the meat has been removed from the carcass. Set aside.
In a large kettle or stockpot combine the carcass, the celery, the uncooked carrots, the garlic, the onions, the peppercorns, and enough water to cover the mixture by 2 inches (about 6 quarts) and simmer the mixture, uncovered, for 3 hours. Strain the stock through a large sieve into a large bowl, leaving the solids in the sieve, return the stock to the kettle, and boil it until it is reduced to about 10 cups.

When the solids in the sieve are cool enough to handle, remove any turkey meat from the carcass and add it to the stock with carrots, crushed lightly, discarding the remaining solids. Add the tomatoes and bring the soup to a boil. Stir in the noodles, boil the soup, stirring occasionally, for 8 to 10 minutes, or until the noodles are tender, and stir in the pre-cooked carrots, parsnips, celery, parsley and salt and ground black pepper to taste. The soup may be made in advance, cooled completely, uncovered, and kept covered and chilled for 2 days or covered and frozen for 2 months.

The turkey carcass is broken in this recipe for more flavor and to help it fit into the pot. A can or two of chicken broth will give it a bit more flavor or you can add an extra parsnip or two. Since I'm not my grandmother, I'd advise doing both...

Mrs. P

Comments

[The Maximum Leader]

What a magnificent memory. Thanks for sharing it.

I'll try the soup too. It is similar to one that my grandmother commended to me. Although I never pre-cooked anything.

I hope that Thanksgiving at the Peperiums was a good one.