celebrating the Leftovers: Thanksgiving edition
Pisco Andina
This is a recipe for a warming, soothing, and light breakfast soup. I find it to be an ideal meal for the morning after Thanksgiving for a couple of reasons. First, it’s a magnificent way to utilize the entire turkey, making it a conscious, zero-waste approach to the holiday. Secondly, this soup is nutritionally balanced, which is refreshing after a full day of celebration. Pisca Andina is a dish I grew up eating in the city of Mérida, of the Venezuelan Andes. This area has cooler temperatures, and this dish reflects that fact. Enjoying a bowl of warm Pisca Andina on a cold morning, brings me back to those memories which still live with me; the view of the mountain, the snow capped Pico Bolívar, and the fresh air of the Sierra.
Let’s cook!
For this recipe, you will want to save all of the bones from your turkey, as well as any other scraps which you might normally discard. At the end of the Thanksgiving meal,, I throw the bones in a large crockpot covered with water. I throw in a chopped onion and a sliced carrot, a couple of sliced celery stalks, as well as a handful of garlic cloves, a bay leaf and some black peppercorns. I set the crockpot to the low setting and leave it to simmer overnight. The next morning, the broth is fragrant and warm and ready for Pisca.
When you’re ready for breakfast, assembling the soup comes pretty fast. To make 6 servings of the pisca, start by adding a couple of tablespoons of butter to a large, cold pot, along with an onion diced small, 4-6 minced garlic cloves, about a half cup of minced cilantro (I like to use mostly the stems here, and a couple of pinches of kosher salt and black pepper. Once I have it all in the pot, I turn the meat on to medium, allowing the mixture to sweat (but not brown). While the mixture cooks, I peel and dice 2 large potatoes (you can use any kind of potato here).
Once the onion mixture has softened, I add the potatoes and immediately strain the turkey broth right into the pot (I place a colander over the pot to accomplish this task.) I crank up the heat to high until the broth boils, then reduce it back to medium to bring down to a steady simmer, and cook until the potatoes begin to soften, about 8 minutes. Once the potatoes are soft (but not mushy) I crack 6 eggs and add them right into the soup one by one (whole, not scrambled! This is not like egg drop soup!) and allow the eggs to poach in the broth until fully cooked. When the eggs are cooked to the consistency of your choice (my preference is a medium poach) I turn the heat off and add about half cup of heavy cream, and about ¼ of fresh cilantro (leaves.) The soup is now ready to serve! Be sure to portion one egg per bowl and enjoy the moment the egg yolk breaks smoothly into the broth, creating a delicious final touch to the whole thing. Make some arepas to go with it, serve with sourdough bread, or enjoy as is!
Emily’s Creamed Turkey on Toast
Though both sides of my husband’s family have a history with this dish, “it was always dad’s thing - he was in charge of the creamed turkey,” my sister in law says. Its continued appearance honors the memory of my father in law’s late mother, Emily, who taught her boys this recipe (among others), consulting a worn copy of a Better Homes and Gardens cookbook. (My children will probably call this Pappy’s creamed toast - after their grandfather.) The white sauce recipe inside the back cover is the base for this dish, to which turkey is added. Then, it’s stacked on toast - an open faced sandwich served on a plate and eaten with a fork, for most.
Let’s cook!
First, make the sauce.
Yields 1 cup
3 tablespoons butter
4 tablespoons all purpose flour
¼ teaspoon salt
1 cup milk
Melt butter in saucepan over low heat. Blend in flour, salt, and dash white pepper. Add milk all at once. Cook quickly, stirring constantly ‘til mixture thickens and bubbles. Sometimes we add black pepper here - your choice.
Mix turkey leftovers into the cream sauce, then serve on your choice of toast. Enjoy!
The Leftovers
Hi, it’s Jess here. We celebrated my grandfather’s 90th birthday this month. My daughter thoroughly enjoyed the cupcakes, my son the freshly fallen leaves, and my grandpa said the best part about getting older is the chance to see his great grandchildren grow. To be together in the same space and time, as we had so many days before, felt extra memorable. It wasn’t Thanksgiving, but the feeling of gratitude was in abundance.
Togetherness is at the heart of Thanksgiving, isn’t it? Some would say it’s turkey - after all, bird is certainly the word in late November. The tradition of cooking turkey, whether roasted, fried, spatchcocked or stuffed, has kept us around the table season after season. This is a big bird we’re talking about, one not meant to be sequestered on a single plate. From the beginning - well before Thanksgiving - the turkey was made to be shared. It’s suspected they were first domesticated nearly 1500 years ago in Mexico, as written in this NYT piece.
My husband has taken charge of the turkey (God bless ‘em) and his preferred method is deep frying. It’s mine too - mostly for the crispy, crunchy bits of skin I sneak as soon as it pops out of the fryer. He’s found a togetherness aspect here, too - he rarely fries alone. He and his siblings, dad, friends and extended family have fried in varied weather conditions, in various places, over the years. The tradition has extended beyond Thanksgiving, all the way to the Superb Owl (can we say the real thing here?) where he fried in a bitter cold snowfall, shielded by a makeshift plywood windreak. They had the best time. No one wanted to come inside.
And though it might not be the centerpiece of all modern Thanksgiving tables - I know of Beef Wellington, Shakespeare’s Pizza, and Pasta La Fata all gracing menus this week - the tradition of togetherness has stayed fast. Seated or standing, paper plate or porcelain, kids table or over the kitchen sink, on this day we wish to be somewhere sharing something, all together. This idea makes me think of a piece I wrote many years ago about a trio of neighbors who, despite language barriers and cultural differences, gathered each week to share a meal together. I joined them, and it was beautiful - still one of my favorite stories to date.
Gathering together over a meal is what appeals to our own chef Gaby, whose immigrant story includes the adoption of Thanksgiving. In a way, it’s a stand in for Venezuelan Christmas, the big food-centric holiday on her childhood calendar. In a conversation we had while planning these recipes, we shared our thoughts about Thanksgiving. “The food aspect of it is the togetherness, it is the connection, for me,” she says. “And that’s what I’m missing - I’m missing the family table, the food, the bread.” Food is why we’re here.
Its addition to the official U.S. calendar is said to have been prompted by author and activist Sarah Josepha Hale (who wrote the popular children’s poem Mary had a little Lamb) as a means to bring some peace between warring sides of the United States during the Civil War. Though Americans had been unofficially celebrating this day of thanks for many years, President Lincoln put it in writing during his tenure - coincidentally or not - soon after receiving Hale’s letters. As the world continues to face the turmoil of modern conflict, pausing for a moment of gratitude, and the intentional choice to come together over a meal on this Thanksgiving is ever so poignant.
And of course, another Thanksgiving tradition we can always count on: leftovers. It’s a sure bet that most families have a leftover recipe - I talked with my mom about my grandma’s turkey tetrazzini, and of course, classic turkey sandwiches. As you’ve probably already found above, Chef Gaby and I have shared a couple ways to stretch the remnants of this year’s feast, and we can’t wait for you to try them. Included is a nod to Gaby’s Venezuelan roots, pisca andina, a brothy soup with poached eggs that’s perfect for breakfast. And, my husband’s family’s favorite, creamed turkey on toast - which has been a staple on the post-Thanksgiving menu for generations. Though, as our gatherings continue to swell in number, the leftovers become fewer. We’ve devised a plan for this, though - just add another turkey to the lineup.
Wherever you are this year, we hope you are somewhere together. Make memories, and of course, enjoy the leftovers. Happy Thanksgiving, friends.
