Nov. 27, 2008
Turkey soup in mind, she's the bone collector..

My Thanksgiving dinners hold expectation and strategy, but no surprises:
My mother-in-law always contributes a bowl of trail mix to the
coffee-table appetizers; my husband always insists on canned, jellied
cranberry sauce. And while the gravy is still hot in its china boat,
certain relatives testily revisit long-held and contrasting thoughts
on who killed JFK.
Then there is the person on the edge of her seat plotting the
confiscation of the turkey carcass.

That would be me.
Stuffing, sweet potatoes with marshmallows, country ham or Uncle Ed's
mincemeat pie mark the holiday for legions of Americans.
For soup lovers, though, a turkey's skeleton is Thanksgiving's
coveted door prize. This has something to do with the fact that, even
though turkey is available year-round, most people don't roast whole
birds until the winter holidays.
Making soup from the bones extends the feelings of celebration and
goodwill in many ways: In the week or month ahead, depending upon when
you choose to deal with the carcass, the house is perfumed as the
bones roast and the broth simmers. (This is the time to have an open
house if you are looking to sell your home.)
The soupmaker gets to revel in the virtuous feeling that comes from
making something from what might have been thrown away, something
definitely better-tasting and nutritious than the canned stuff,and
when you add seasonal ingredients such as sage, winter squash and
wild rice, along with a bit of leftover turkey you can produce a meal
that many of us consider more tantalizing than the actual Thanksgiving
feast.
But maybe even more important is that soup, which certainly is perfect
for a crowd, is also the consummate solitary self-indulgence. Making
and devouring it alone can be meditative and soothing, a fitting
follow-up to the preparation and consumption of a meal composed of
many elements - and a group of dear but clattering, chattering relatives.
Turkey soup after Thanksgiving dinner is better than a spa
treatment, and I have mastered the capture of its essential component:
the bird's jarringly messy skeleton. If you, too, covet the carcass,
you will profit from my experience.
Luckily, many people view these bones as icky - a bother, something
that signals labor, or a burden for those who have traveled to the
dinner from afar. Some even consider a desire for those bones as a
scary, slippery slope down to Martha Stewart-dom, but it is in the
soup lover's best interest to cultivate such viewpoints among others.
These very same skeptics will want the carcass stripped of its
shards so that they may have a mini-feast the next day. And the
children may want to abscond with the wishbone, technically called the
furcula, which lies between all birds' necks and breasts. Feign
generosity and allow that. But be on your toes to hoard some of the
meat to use with the precious bones. Then move on to gaining
possession of the carcass in one of three ways: (1) Insist on cleaning
up after dinner; (2) Provide disinformation; or (3) Seize control of
the conversation.
Offering to do the dishes is, obviously, not the most pleasant
option. But if you can manage to convince others that you really,
really want to do it alone, you and your turkey carcass are home free.
It can be disguised - in foil and a wig, perhaps - and refrigerated
behind a collection of mustards for several days. It may also be
frozen for several months.
Lying about the value of a turkey carcass is useless. It is fairly
common knowledge that bones are the foundation of all cookery,
contributing flavor, nutrients and gelatin. Instead, when Aunt Fran,
who flew in from Detroit, eyeballs it, tell her that the
Transportation Security Administration has banned turkey carcasses
from luggage of any sort. (This, although untrue, is very believable;
turkey bones can be sharp as knives.)
Finally, there's what I think of as the "Look! There's a bird!"
tactic. This involves changing the subject from the destiny of the
turkey carcass to one that ignites passion and diverts the assembled
family.
I steer our Thanksgiving table conversation to conspiracies, the
35th president of the United States, and the grassy knoll.
Works every time.

By Joyce Gemperlein
Philadelphia Inquirer
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Tips for Making Perfect Soup/ Stock

Don't make broth from brined, marinated or smoked turkey - these added
flavors will intensify and ruin the stock-making process.

> Remove as much meat as possible from the bones before beginning the
stock because the meat will become flavorless after long simmering.

> Break up the bones to allow the carcass to fit better into the pot.

> Start with cold water because hot water will cause the starches and
fats in meat and vegetables to expand and jell, retarding the flavor
extraction.

> Simmer stock. Boiling causes fat to emulsify and disperse, making
the stock greasy. Fat floating on top can be removed later after the
stock has chilled and a nice solid layer of fat sealing off the top of
the stock will extend it's life.

>Finished strained stock should be cooled as quickly as possible; many
folks will put the pot in an ice bath, but if the temperature outside
is below 45 just put the whole pot outside ( with a brick on the lid
to discourage unwelcome scavengers).

The standard formula for turkey broth:
one 16- to 20-pound turkey carcass,stripped of as much meat as
possible, 2 chopped onions, 3 chopped carrots, 3 chopped celery ribs
with leaves, one handfull fresh parsley sprigs ( 4 or 5, 3- 4 bay
leaves, 5 or 6 peppercorns, 1/2 cup vinegar (I prefer cider ),2 or 3
few cloves of garlic, any liquids from the turkey roasting pan ( not
the gravy, save that for leftovers) and enough water to cover the
turkey in its simmering pot.
Put everything in the pot, bring to a boil, then turn down to a
simmer, cover and forget..I let mine go 2 days to extract as many
minerals and gelatin from the bones as possible but 6 hours will be
enough to give a tasty broth..when you think it's finished, strain,
cool and put in the fridge. Stock freezes beautifully, just remember
to leave some headroom for expansion, I like to use the 2-4 cup square
ziplock containers.


kathy gibb
OKC Chapter
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