Courage in the Kitchen

It was the best turkey gravy I can remember, even better than Mom’s.

For many years we have been going to the annual Harvest Festival at Holy Trinity Orthodox Church near Clayton, Wisconsin. The church is a jewel set among woodlots and farm fields where it was established in 1902 by Carpatho-Russian immigrants from eastern Europe.

It is a small but vibrant church. With a congregation of fewer than one hundred adults, nearly everyone has to pitch in to make the Harvest Festival a success. This year more than six hundred people enjoyed a dinner of cabbage rolls, baked ham, mashed potatoes, steamed vegetables, cranberry sauce, marinated vegetable salad, dinner rolls and homemade pie.

At dawn on the Saturday before the dinner the men are boiling water and steaming cabbages. Women are putting meat on the leaves and making the rolls. By noon, over two thousand fresh cabbage rolls are cooking in the roasters. On Sunday morning entire families are working together.

This year a young man who was probably five or six years old did a great job of keeping full bowls of cranberry sauce on the tables, middle schoolers bussed dishes, teenagers set new places and delivered pies. The pies are served family style, so you can have two pieces if you want. Both the apple and pumpkin were delicious.

Moms and dads, grandmothers and grandfathers–everyone is part of an elaborate ballet that is a joy to watch while visiting with strangers and friends who share your table. Joann Schramski is one of those grandmothers.

Her job for many years has been to make the turkey gravy served with the mashed potatoes. This year she made about nine gallons. She learned how to make it from her mother, does not have a recipe and goes by taste, just like Julia Child. Her taster might have been working extra well this year, but as I think back over previous Harvest Fest dinners we have attended, the gravy was always excellent.

Since you probably do not want to make nine gallons of gravy, I did my best to adjust the quantities of ingredients Joann shared with me to make about one and a half quarts. This may seem like a lot, but this gravy goes well with turkey, chicken, beef and lamb. Plus you can freeze the leftover gravy and use it later.

The one major difference is that I used two turkey legs instead of one, but the package had two legs, and I figured that two would make a richer broth. Jerri and I felt that it was a success, and I think that you’ll like it too. Here is what I did.

INGREDIENTS:

2 turkey legs
1/2 cup celery
1/2 cup onion
2 cups chicken broth
4 cups water
2 chicken bouillon cubes
1/4 tsp. salt
1/3 tsp. fresh ground black pepper
Juice from a can of green beans
1/4 cup cornstarch
Kitchen Bouquet

PROCEDURE:

Put the turkey legs, broth and a scant three cups of water into a large saucepan or Dutch oven. The pan should be wide enough so the turkey legs will lie flat and be covered with the liquid.

Clean and coarsely chop the celery and onion. Purée them in a blender with a cup of water. Pour the vegetables into the pot with the turkey legs. Add the two bouillon cubes, salt and pepper, bring to a boil and simmer for at least two hours.

While you are making the gravy, open a can of green beans that you can serve on the side and drain the juice into the broth. Stir occasionally and skim any foam that appears.

Turn off the heat and remove the legs from the pot and cool them on a plate. Working with a knife and your fingers, carefully separate the meat from the legs. Discard the skin, bones and tendons and cut the meat into small pieces.

Return the meat to the broth and bring to a boil over moderate heat. Mix the cornstarch with a quarter cup of cold water. Stir the cornstarch into the broth and cook until thickened, two or three minutes. Add a small amount of Kitchen Bouquet browning and seasoning sauce to deepen the color.

Taste and adjust the seasoning.

NOTES: Joann goes through the meat twice by hand to make sure that all the bones and small pieces of tendon have been removed. It’s easy to miss those little pieces of tendon, in particular, so I do the same.

Joann’s use of the bean juice is typical of good cooks who hate to discard anything that is edible and that can contribute to a dish. My mother did the same and so does Jerri. I really think that the bean juice adds to the complex flavor of Joann’s turkey gravy.

If the gravy is thicker than you like, add a little more water. If it’s not thick enough, mix a tablespoon of corn starch with a tablespoon of water and stir it into the gravy.

And on a personal note, Joann told me that when she and her husband Roger drove into the yard after the dinner this year, they found the yard filled with cars, children and grandchildren. It was nearly suppertime.

She told her husband, “I’m really too tired to cook this evening.”

Roger had the answer. “We’ve got hot dogs in the freezer and stuff in the fridge. I’ll build a fire and we’ll have a wiener roast.”

And so they did.

Every spring the mailman delivered at least a hundred baby chickens to the Rang household. Mom had cardboard boxes ready for the chicks lined with newspaper, furnished with water and food trays and equipped with shielded lightbulbs to keep the little peepers comfortable.

When they were big enough they were moved to a cage in the chicken coop and soon they were sharing the coop and yard with the hens and rooster that had overwintered with us. We always kept one rooster “to keep the hens happy,” as Dad used to say. Though Mom usually ordered pullets, she would include a carton of “as hatched chicks.” All but one of the cockerels would simply end up a bit sooner in the frying pan or soup pot.

One fateful year a carton of mixed chicks included a Barred Plymouth Rock cockerel destined to become the “The Terror of the Yard.” I was nine years old and had been recently introduced to the art of tying my own trout flies by Gus, our farmer neighbor who had taught me how to fish for trout. Several of the patterns used barred rock hackles, so when it became apparent that we had a barred rock rooster on our hands I begged to be allowed to keep him for the feathers.

Because older roosters have better feathers for making good dry flies I had a persuasive argument for letting “my rooster” rule the henhouse for more than the usual one year term. The incumbent rooster went in the soup pot, and the three year reign of “The Terror” began.

The first year was fine. My rooster guarded the hens and woke us up dutifully every morning with lusty crowing. Disturbing portents marked the second year as my rooster became more protective of his flock. He would make bluff charges and try to keep us out of the chicken coop when we went to gather the eggs.

At two years of age he was a handsome rooster: seven or eight pounds of muscle covered with beautiful grizzly feathers. Ominously, his spurs had grown to inch long weapons, but I pointed out that he was now better equipped to protect the hens.

The “Reign of Terror” began the following summer when he began chasing everyone who approached the chicken coop. He spent time every day sharpening his spurs which were now well over an inch long, and he knew how to use them, using his wings to lift himself off the ground and provide leverage for scratching anything running away in front of him.

We devised a strategy for gathering the eggs. We kids would saunter towards the chicken coop until my rooster came running to defend his territory. He would usually take up a defensive position in front of the coop until we got pretty close, at which time he would scream, start flapping his wings and chase us into the front yard. If we tried to return to the back yard, he would patrol the approaches to his domain.

Our plan worked well for most of the summer. When we had lured my rooster into the front yard, Mom would hurry out the back door, gather the eggs and be back in the house before he had resumed his guard duty. Even now I do not know what went wrong. Maybe Mom went out the door too soon or my rooster may have glanced into the back yard as he pursued us. Whatever the explanation, the result was catastrophic.

When Mom finished collecting the eggs in her apron, she turned to find nine pounds of angry rooster standing in the chicken coop doorway. As an experienced farm girl she knew what to do. She shouted “Shoo!” and charged the bird who had enough sense to dodge 150 pounds of determined housewife.

However, once she was out of the coop, she was running away. The rooster gave chase, wings flapping and spurs flashing. Eggs were flying and Mom was shouting. She made it into the house without any eggs but only a few scratches.

When Dad came home from work that day, Mom met him at the door with “You have to do something about that rooster.” Dad got his axe and headed out to finish off the bird. I remember pleading, as if it were yesterday, “Don’t ruin the feathers.”

But my rooster was not to be found. Obviously he had observed the trip to the tool shed. Checks of the coop, the yards and even the road to the garden were fruitless. He had obviously decided to stay out of sight until tempers had cooled.

Dad leaned his .22 single shot rifle against the wall next to the back door, propped the screen door open and we all sat down to supper. Near the end of the meal he put down his fork, aimed the rifle and dropped my rooster with a bullet through his head. Dad said, “Well Chuck, I didn’t ruin many feathers.”

I sorted the feathers and stored them in envelopes and tied a lot of flies with them. I still have a half dozen or so in an envelope and tied an Adams with one a few years ago. I even caught a brook trout on it, but the barbs are brittle and the fly did not hold up very well.

My rooster ended up in the soup pot. He was too old for making Country Captain, but he made a good soup. The next time you go to the supermarket you might want to pick up a nice young chicken that you can turn into a delicious dinner.

I found this recipe in a fascinating biography of James Beard, Epicurean delight: The Life and Times of James Beard by Evan Jones. It was given to me by Beth shortly before she became our daughter-in-law.

Beard named this recipe “Cecily Brownstone’s Country Captain.” It is a chicken casserole that is thought to have been developed in the southern United States flavored with spices brought from India by ships’ captains. Some versions are baked in the oven, but this one you cook in just about 30 minutes in a covered skillet on top of the range and serve over rice.

INGREDIENTS:

2 1/2 to 3 lb. chicken
1/4 cup flour
1 tsp. salt
1/4 tsp. black pepper
4 T butter
1/3 cup finely chopped onion
1/3 to 1/2 cup finely chopped green bell pepper
1 large clove garlic
1 1/2 to 2 tsp. curry powder
1/2 tsp. crushed thyme
1 can stewed tomatoes (about 2 cups)
3 T dried currants
1 cup long grain white rice
2 cups water
1/2 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. butter
Blanched toasted almonds to pass at table

PROCEDURE:

Wash and cut the chicken into eight pieces or buy a fryer already cut up. Peel the outer skin from the onion and garlic and wash and remove the seeds and white membrane from the green pepper. Chop the onion and pepper and mince the garlic.

Mix the flour with the salt and pepper and coat the chicken pieces. Heat the butter to foaming in the skillet and brown the chicken. Remove the chicken from the pan and let excess fat drain into paper towels on a plate. Turn the heat down to moderate and add the vegetables and spices to the skillet. Cook for one minute, then add the stewed tomatoes with the liquid.

Return the chicken to the skillet, cover and simmer until tender, about 30 minutes. Add a little liquid (wine or water) if there is not enough sauce. Stir in the currants and simmer another minute.

While the chicken is cooking, put two cups of water in a saucepan. Rinse the rice to remove some of the starch and put the rice in the pan along with the salt and butter. Bring the pan to a boil, then turn it down to a simmer and cook until the water is absorbed, about 20 minutes.

Serve the chicken with the rice and pass the almonds.

NOTES: You will find blanched slivered almonds in the supermarket. Toast them in a small frying pan without any oil on low heat for a few minutes until they just start to turn golden brown.

There are different kinds of curry powder, some spicy hot, others mild and sweet. Use whichever you prefer.