gratitude
hosting thanksgiving, leftovers, and recovery meals
Hello my friends. I hope we’re all holding it together as best we can this week. I don’t know what to say that hasn’t been said more accurately and eloquently than I could ever hope to be, so I will link to this astounding piece of writing, “Doomsday Diaries” by Sarah Aziza. Please give it a read if you haven’t already.
This week has been kind of a blur, maybe understandably: days seem both interminable and as if they’re flying by, my focus touching on things but never staying long, like a fly buzzing around a house it never meant to find its way into in the first place. I escape to the kitchen after a day working at my computer. I make dinner, putting something in the oven and leaning against the counter as I scroll my phone, the oven timer beeping after what feels like only moments, reminding me to rotate the pan. I hear a noise in the other room, and it’s rain, leaking through my bedroom ceiling, and it feels like one more thing will finally break me.
But it doesn’t, of course. I eat my dinner. I drink a beer. I work distractedly on a sweater I’m knitting, a warm winter one, for Jeff. I scroll my phone. I watch the entirety of The Fall of the House of Usher over a couple of days and feel oddly bereft when it ends. I fold my laundry. I stay up too late doing next to nothing. I am home. I am alive. I am lucky.
Ever since we moved out of our last rental house, where we had close friends living in the basement suite (thus giving us access to a second oven on thanksgiving), we’ve had to adjust our expectations in terms of hosting capabilities. The first year we held it here, October 2017, we still had a pretty big guest list and farmed out a few of the side dishes, which worked well. But the past few years with the pandemic, our harvest dinners have been obviously a lot smaller, which isn’t bad either. This year there were just five of us— me and Jeff, Steph, Kayla, and Ransom. None of us are vegetarian, and while I of course love feeding my friends who don’t eat meat, not making two mains did really cut down on the level of prep we had to do.
We did, however, keep everything dairy-free for Ransom who can’t have it at all (Jeff’s lactose intolerance was probably grateful, as well). And with fewer guests I didn’t have to double any recipes or make extra side dishes because I was worried about things running out. With so many years of practice at making a huge meal planned down to the minute, this year felt remarkably stress-free, and we actually ate soup on time and dinner early because we were so ahead of schedule (there have been times in the past where we were still putting things into serving dishes at 8pm).
I like to start off with a soup. Back when we had upwards of ten guests (I think our record was 23) I would make two kinds so I’d mix it up a fair bit, but now that I only make one I want to make sure it’s something really warming and evocative of fall. This year I went completely off-book and just made up something I thought would taste good, and it did! I roasted cauliflower and fennel together with smoked paprika, and then cooked it into a creamy soup base with miso to deepen the flavour. I’ve included the recipe at the end of this newsletter, so I won’t get into it too much here, but everyone thought it was delicious and I’m so happy half of it is still in the freezer for me to remember in a month or two.
We made the turkey as usual: butter (vegan Becel this time) with lemon, dijon mustard, and herbs mixed in and spread under the skin, maple glaze for basting, and bacon to cover in the latter half of roasting, which helps keep the moisture in. I love adding the lemon and mustard to the butter because it ups the acidity in a very savoury meal. Acidity is also why the cranberry sauce is an important aspect of a holiday dinner, despite what the haters tell you. I like to add a little orange zest when I make cranberry sauce, just for some more flavour diversity. We also cook our turkey unstuffed now: not only does it mean all the stuffing can be vegan if we want, but the turkey always cooks more evenly and quickly without being filled to the brim with bread and onions.
Generally, I can take or leave mashed potatoes (judge me if you want), but they are important as a gravy vessel. We add a whole head of roasted garlic, and Jeff is always thrilled at the infrequent chance to use the potato ricer— a device I would gladly fling into the sea because I loathe how slow it is and how absolutely atrocious it is to wash. But it really does give the potatoes the best texture.
I always like trying to mix up the vegetable sides, since there are other elements that stay kind of the same year after year, and I was happy with this year’s. One was miso & honey-glazed roasted brussels sprouts, which I’ve made as a non-thanksgiving side and really liked. I accidentally doubled the amount of miso, so I omitted the salt and they came out just fine. We used toasted hazelnuts to garnish, since we already had them as a garnish for the soup. The other dish was something I’d long ago cut out of a magazine article with ‘10 ideas for kale’ or something like that: braised kale and squash with mustard, which seemed perfect since there’d already be mustard flavouring the turkey, and it was something I could do on the stove rather than having to battle for oven space. I pan-fried pieces of kabocha squash ahead of time, then heated them again in the pan while cooking the kale and adding grainy mustard, plus a bit of broth, just before serving time. Easy.
I served an Italian apple cake for dessert, a favourite of mine because it’s vegan, easy to make, looks lovely, and tastes amazing (the recipe is Chloe Coscarelli’s and no longer online, but I have a screencap of it I can share— just ask). We have so many apples from our tree in the fridge still, so I’m sure I’ll be making it again soon. Jeff has perfected his vegan vanilla ice cream: the sweet spot is to almost double the vanilla in the recipe he uses. We used to often make a fancy ice cream for thanksgiving— fig, whiskey, maple, and so on— but vanilla with an apple dessert is just so classically perfect. After dinner, Kayla washed dishes until her hands wrinkled (my hero) and we all sat on the couch watching Star Trek while we digested, and everyone went home with a big container of leftovers. Flawless evening.
The day after the big dinner is soup day: making stock from the bones, and then making a turkey noodle soup out of that stock. Usually I’m the one who does all of this since Jeff would often have to work, but this year he took care of the stock, and then I made the soup on Tuesday, because we went to Natalie’s for another dinner on the Monday night and didn’t have time. But because the stock was already made the soup was very little effort, and perfect for a rainy evening after work. I tend to use cappellini spezzati (a thin, short noodle) because it cooks quickly in the broth and holds up well as leftovers.
As much as I love soup, my favourite form of thanksgiving leftovers is the turkey sandwich. It is so satisfying to make a huge sandwich with all kinds of things inside while contemplating how it’s going to taste, and then getting to eat it! I also remembered I have the ability to make fresh sprouts in a jar, which I did. And once we were sick of sandwiches and had eaten all the leftover stuffing and potatoes, I shredded the remaining turkey and put it all in the freezer for a future pot pie or stew. We shall see.
Because I made too much of the miso-honey glaze, I bought more brussels sprouts this week and made sort of a thanksgiving tapas dinner, with those and a nice plate of poutine made with oven fries, and cranberry sauce on the side. The cranberry sauce, while not strictly necessary, was not as weird as you might think, and we definitely ate everything in the below photo between the two of us. I cook my fries at a higher temperature than in the brussels sprouts recipe, and I’m happy to say the sprouts were incredible after being cooked at 450°F for 10 minutes and 425 for another 10-15, with no flipping. Just put them all on the pan cut-side down and cook in the centre of the oven, and they’ll be perfectly done and nicely caramelized.
After a week of decadent leftovers we were glad to get back to some more veggie-focused meals, and I made a great kale and romaine caesar with some vegan nuggets to put on top. I use the Salt, Fat, Acid, Heat recipe as a reference point for the dressing, but I make mayo using the two-minute method rather than the one in that book (because I’m lazy). While waiting for the nuggets to cook I kept looking around my kitchen for something else I could add to this salad, because just leaves and fake chicken didn’t seem like enough and I didn’t have time to make croutons, but it was actually excellent as it was. Caesar is distinctive and tasty enough that it doesn’t need a lot of bells and whistles to make you want to eat that whole salad.
I also made the Hungarian mushroom soup again, because I can’t get enough mushrooms (or enough soup) this time of year. I’ve written plenty about this soup in the past, so if you haven’t made it yet, what are you waiting for?
SMOKY ROASTED CAULIFLOWER & FENNEL SOUP
4-5 lbs cauliflower (2 medium or 1 large head), cut into florets
1 large bulb fennel, trimmed and cut into wedges about 1” thick
2 tsp smoked paprika
1 large white onion, diced or chopped roughly
5-6 cloves garlic, chopped roughly
a few sprigs of fresh thyme & oregano, stems removed (or use ½ tsp each dried)
6 cups broth
1 cup cashews, soaked for at least 2 hours*
1 tbsp miso paste*
salt & pepper
Preheat the oven to 425°F and line two baking sheets with parchment. Toss the cauliflower and fennel with olive oil and 1 teaspoon of the smoked paprika, and plenty of salt (at least ½ tsp). Roast for 30-35 minutes, turning once, until parts of the vegetables look caramelized and they’re mostly tender. Cut any remaining bits of core off the fennel once it’s cool enough to handle.
Meanwhile, place a large pot over medium heat and add some olive oil. Cook the onions and garlic until mostly softened, 5-10 minutes. Add the other teaspoon of paprika, some ground pepper, and the thyme & oregano, toasting for about 30 seconds. Deglaze with a splash of broth, then add the rest of the broth, the roasted vegetables, and ½ tsp salt. Bring to a boil, then turn down to a simmer and cook for 15-20 minutes, until the cauliflower and fennel are soft enough to cut through with your wooden spoon.
While the soup simmers, drain the cashews and blend them with the miso paste and 2 cups of water until very smooth. Add it to the soup and blend the whole thing with a hand blender until it’s smooth. When you think it’s smooth enough, blend it a little longer. Let it simmer just a few minutes longer, until the cashew cream has thickened it to the texture you’d like, adding a little water to thin if needed. Taste for seasoning. I served this with fresh dill and toasted hazelnuts, which was excellent.
Notes:
This makes a lot! If you want to halve the recipe, you could leave the fennel amount the same with the knowledge that that flavour will come through more, or leave out some of the fennel slices after roasting and use them in a grilled cheese sandwich, which is excellent.
I used genmai (brown rice) miso, and I think a more potent variety works really well here, so if you only have shiro miso, you might want to use a little more.
I realise this recipe uses both a blender and a hand blender, because I find cashew cream comes out smoother in the upright blender. But if you don’t have an upright one, try it this way: boil the cashews along with the vegetables and the extra water, then blend for an extra-long time with the immersion blender.
If you can’t have cashews, I would try oat milk here instead. Coconut milk is thicker, but I don’t think it’s the right flavour profile for this soup.
Thanks for reading— if you enjoyed this newsletter, please share it with someone new! I like providing this to you for free, but it does still involve time and effort, and this week if you can spare it financially, please look through this thread of ways to help Palestine. I leave you with the following short poem.
