- Turkey — not body parts.
Working in the dark of night, the black plastic bags, the cooler — whenever I brine a turkey it reminds me of something out of Dexter. I hope none of my Thanksgiving guests are reading this.
Anyhow, it would not be Thanksgiving if I didn’t post a link to my recipe for sweet potato crunch. People remember two things about Albany Eye: the wiseass commentary and the sweet potato crunch recipe I first shared in 2006.
It’s getting sort of like NPR’s tradition of running Susan Stamberg’s horrible relish recipe with one important difference: the sweet potato crunch is something people will actually love to eat. Stamberg is fond of saying “It sounds terrible but tastes terrific.” Susan, let’s be honest: most people hate it.
Take my word for it, this will be one of the most popular things on the table — but I’ll share one tip about the recipe that I wrote when I first shared it:
Cook’s note: DO NOT DARE used canned sweet potatoes; you’re making dinner for your loved ones, not the inmates down at Coxsackie.
Maybe they could punish unruly prisoners by giving them nothing but the Susan Stamberg relish? Nah… that would be cruel and unusual.
Yay, Americans are getting smarter!
You’re probably saying, “Rob, that’s not very likely. What proof do you have?”
Easy. Every Thanksgiving, I scour the internet for videos of people having horrible mishaps when frying turkeys — and these videos are getting very hard to find. The most recent fryer fire I could locate was uploaded to YouTube more than a year ago, on December 10, 2013.
Combine the lack of videos with the proliferation of phones that shoot video and it can only mean fewer fires.
What you will find on YouTube are many videos of fire departments staging turkey fires to demonstrate the dangers of hot oil, open flames, turkeys and (presumably) alcohol. Having served as a firefighter, I can tell you that they pass up few opportunities to light things on fire for training. Here’s a good one:
So, if we connect the dots we can surmise that all these demonstration videos have made a difference and yielded smarter Americans. Now, all we need are some videos about how local talk radio can rot your brain…
Since I first attended the Hudson Valley Garlic Festival, the event has grown to monstrous proportions.
What was once a quaint celebration with a small town feel has grown into a behemoth and the two-day affair seems at risk of becoming a victim of its own success. The vast remote parking lots, shuttle busses and hordes of garlic hungry sample zombies were almost too much to bear.
Yes, sample zombies.
You’ve seen them. They’re the folks who shuffle mindlessly past every booth at farmers markets and food events, not in search of brains to eat, but cheese, relishes, exotic olive oils and dipping sauces — and in this case, many different varieties of raw garlic. They lurch from table to table stabbing at tidbits of food with toothpicks, elbowing past other sample zombies for their share of the bounty. Mmmmmm… foooooood… gooooooood…
The most patient and persistent sample zombies can make a meal of the tiny morsels, one small nip at a time. Me? I prefer to feed in large hearty bites and find sampling to be exquisitely annoying.
Sample zombies are attracted to free shots of vinegar.
And how about that garlic? Some varieties were noticeably sharper than others and a few had a taste that snuck up on you, the way hot sauce sometimes takes a minute to really hit home — but overall, the different types of garlic all tasted very much the same.
I couldn’t begin to guess how much raw garlic I ate, but I will say this: I stunk of garlic the next day. The fragrance oozed from my pores and orifices like nobody’s business; while sample zombies may have been a problem over the weekend, vampires were not an issue.
Last year I was put squarely in my place when the soda bread I keep bragging about failed to place in the Irish American Heritage Museum’s baking contest.
Undeterred, I plunged back in this year armed not only with my family recipe, but with an entry in their traditional brown category.
You see, what passes for soda bread in America is a sweet, cakey bread that’s often filled with raisins, caraway seeds, and other fancy things. But real soda bread, the type served at every meal if you visit Ireland, has just four ingredients: flour, buttermilk, salt, and baking soda. It’s rustic and simple, but spread with a little butter there are few things more delicious.
So, Saturday March 8 was a grand day down on Broadway at the the storefront museum; the whole place was fragrant with soda bread, and as the judges ploughed through their tasting, the contestants and others were digging into huge piles of soda bread, from the diverse assortment of American style recipes to the rough loaves of traditional bread made with either wheat or white flour.
To my surprise and amazement, my brown soda bread caught the fancy of the judges and was awarded first prize. Dumbstruck, when asked for my secret, I blurted out that my grandparents came from County Cork and that I’d been working hard for years on my bread recipe. The first part was true, but the second? That might have been a bit of blarney.
Oh… the winning recipe: Continue reading
I like the drive south down River Road.
Glenmont, Selkirk, Coeymans, New Baltimore — keep going and you’ll go through Coxsackie and to Catskill. Route 144 gives way to Route 61 which leads to Route 385, but it’s all the same.
Roads like this were busier before the Thruway, and if you look closely you’ll see the remains of old gas stations and tourist cabins that dotted way — and places like the Bridge Diner.
It’s near two bridges in Coeymans, actually; the railroad bridge that carries freight across the river and the Thruway’s Castleton Bridge. The diner must have been a busy place when that Thruway bridge was being built in the late 1950s — ironic, because it was the Thruway itself, not far behind the diner, which must have stolen a lot of the traffic away from Rt. 144.
While the building looks vaguely like a railroad car, the only time it rolled anywhere was when it was shipped to its destination in four-foot segments and assembled on site. The diner was built by the Bixler Manufacturing Company of Norwalk, Ohio sometime between 1931 and 1937 when the firm went out of business. Back in the day, you could buy a pre-fab diner like this one on credit — and hope you got enough business to make your payment.
I don’t know anything about how the Bridge Diner ended up as it is today. It’s too bad somebody couldn’t have put the building to use — or break it back down into four-foot sections and cart it off to where it could be live again, a place for a couple of fried eggs and some hash browns on a chilly morning.
Bloggers get no love. Consider this headline from the Times Union:
Ex-blogger Arrested on Child Porn Charges
I like how they give blogger equal billing with child porn. “Child porn? That figures! Filthy blogger!”
So, when somebody treats local bloggers special, believe me, it’s a pretty big deal — like this week when Price Chopper invited a bunch of local food bloggers to the opening of their new Market Bistro store in Latham.
Price Chopper has smart PR people, so they know that if you schmooze a bunch of bloggers and feed them you’ll get results — like seven blog posts the next day. There may be more out there; these are just the ones I found in a two-minute search:
The Angel Forever
All Over Albany
Jon in Albany
Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s terrific that blogs are considered an important part of a media campaign — and it does seem to work. Now, if I can only get myself invited somewhere they have free food. I promise to write a blog post about it.
In early January, I took a class at Different Drummer’s Kitchen that went over how to make your own sausage, bacon and pancetta. If I’d known how easy it is to make bacon, I might not have bothered with the class.
I’m of the opinion that anyone who can follow directions properly can be a pretty good cook; this more than applies to making bacon.
The bacon adventure started with a trip to Rolf’s Pork Store. A five-pound slab of pork belly is not something you’ll find at Price Chopper; your local butcher should be able to fix you up. Then — and be sure to follow very closely here — you combine
four five ingredients*, rub them into the pork belly and refrigerate for one week.
Once the belly was cured, I smoked it for two hours using my gas grill and foil packages of hickory chips.
The result was a sweet, smokey product that was and tastier and more mellow than the ubiquitous mass-produced bacon you find cin the store. It even seemed healthier since it came from my own hand, which I suppose could be a dangerous attribute.
A visitor to our house asked if it wouldn’t just be easier to buy bacon at the store. Yes, of course! But it wouldn’t taste as good.
I can’t quantify how much of the deliciousness came from having done it myself, but it reminds me of when someone asked my wife why she would bother making her own jam. “Why make your own? You can buy a jar for two bucks at the supermarket.” To me this seems like the classic case of knowing the cost of everything, but the value of nothing.
Here’s a good recipe if you want to try it yourself.
*Sugar, molasses, kosher salt, curing salt, ground black pepper.
YouTube is full of videos of turkey frying disasters, but these days most of them seem to be from volunteer fire departments demonstrating the worst case turkey frying scenario.
As a former volunteer firemen, I know how much these guys love burning things in training. Cars, piles of wood, houses — so igniting vats of oil to educate the public is a no brainer.
While I enjoy seeing those huge orange fireballs erupt from the turkey oil, there is no substitute for the real thing. Searching YouTube I found that there are fewer turkey inferno videos than in the past — this despite the proliferation of phones that shoot great video and the popularity of turkey frying.
Could it be that people are finally getting the point? Well. not entirely.
So, do be careful if you’re doing any turky frying. And for God’s sake, please keep a camera ready just in case.
We can all agree on Thanksgiving.
Your religion — or lack thereof — doesn’t matter. Politics? Card carrying member of the John Birch Society or national health care lovin’ socialist, who cares? Yankees fan, Red Socks fan — you’re both insufferable, but on Thanksgiving we can all sit down at the same table.
And if you’re lucky, someone will have made Albany Eye Sweet Potato Crunch.
I’ve been sharing this recipe since 2006, so it’s become a tradition of sorts, to the point of sounding like Sam I Am, except evangelizing for sweet potatoes rather than green eggs and ham.
You do not like them. SO you say. Try them! Try them! And you may. Try them and you may I say.
One important note: never, never, never use canned sweet potatoes. If you do, that might be the one thing that could come between us on this most American of holidays.