The turkey is a North American native that was taken to Europe, food historians tell us, by the early Spanish explorers. In Italy, it became a culinary favorite of the aristocracy quite quickly: I’ve been delighted to learn that sixty-six turkeys were served at a feast for Catherine de’ Medici in 1549. In my family, however, turkey was not a big deal until we came to North America, 400 years later. Like most of our neighbors in the 1950s, we mainly cooked and ate turkey as the centerpiece of Thanksgiving and other holiday feasts. But over the years, it has become a significant part of our everyday eating. As you’ve seen, turkey wings flavor our basic broth, and turkey breast cutlets are a family favorite. A whole roast turkey is still something special on our table. And after years of Thanksgiving and Christmas feasts and birthday dinners, I have perfected the two-stage, wet-then-dry turkey-roasting procedure that I present here. It’s unusual but it works. In fact, I roast all kinds of meats and poultry this way (as I explain below) to produce marvelously moist and flavorful meat with a crispy, caramelized exterior—and a rich pan sauce at the same time. For the autumn and winter holidays, I serve the turkey with seasonal trimmings—Quince, Cranberry, and Apple Sauce (page 367), Cotognata—Quince Chutney (page 368), and Gnoccho Grande for a stuffing. And I glaze the bird with balsamic-vinegar reduction for a deep mahogany sheen. Roast turkey is so good, though, and so economical, I hope you’ll cook it often, not just for Thanksgiving. For everyday dinners, follow the basic procedure for cooking a chicken or a small turkey (see below). You don’t have to give it the holiday touches every time: the bird will be beautiful without the glaze and delicious with just its natural pan sauce.
Turn humble onions into this thrifty yet luxe pasta dinner.
This pasta has some really big energy about it. It’s so extra, it’s the type of thing you should be eating in your bikini while drinking a magnum of rosé, not in Hebden Bridge (or wherever you live), but on a beach on Mykonos.
Caramelized onions, melty Gruyère, and a deeply savory broth deliver the kind of comfort that doesn’t need improving.
This is what I call a fridge-eater recipe. The key here is getting a nice sear on the sausage and cooking the tomato down until it coats the sausage and vegetables well.
This classic 15-minute sauce is your secret weapon for homemade mac and cheese, chowder, lasagna, and more.
A dash of cocoa powder adds depth and richness to the broth of this easy turkey chili.
This is the type of soup that, at first glance, might seem a little…unexciting. But you’re underestimating the power of mushrooms, which do the heavy lifting.
I should address the awkward truth that I don’t use butter here but cream instead. You could, if you’re a stickler for tradition (and not a heretic like me), add a big slab of butter to the finished curry.