Thanksgiving may be the thing that really, truly got me into cooking. I’ve tried to nail down when I fell in love with the act of making food, and the one defining moment I come back to over and over is Thanksgiving. It was my senior year of college, and a family friend had been diagnosed with cancer. We didn’t know if she’d make it to another Thanksgiving, so I decided we should blow it out that year, really go for it. I planned something like a 7 course plated dinner with my mom, for about 18 people. It was an absurd idea, but somehow we pulled it off. I only remember a few of the things we actually cooked that year – Alton Brown’s salt roasted shrimp and his deep fried turkey were both featured – but I do remember it as being thing that made me decide I loved cooking for other people.
This wasn’t the first time I’d cooked. The first time I really remember cooking, other than a grilled cheese sandwich or Top Ramen, was in high school when my parents would be out for the evening. Left to my own devices, I’d pull out some raw chicken, chop it into strips, and then sauté it with whatever spices I pulled from the cabinets that smelled good at the time. I always convinced myself they tasted good. Now I’d say they were more tolerable than actually good. But I digress. I’m good at digressing.
The Thanksgiving turkey has become the one food that I MUST cook every year. Without fail. It is some sort of primal need. My wife and I jump back and forth between her parents and mine each year, and I cook the turkey no matter where we are. If there is a way to roast, fry, barbecue, or sous vide a turkey, I’ve probably tried it. There are years where two different preparations happen just because I can’t make up my mind (or my mom requests a “normal roasted turkey” because she doesn’t really like the barbecued ones, too smokey for her tastes.) But three years ago, that all changed. I hit the jackpot. I found the last turkey I’ll ever need. It was, quite simply, perfect. Or at least very nearly. There is still a place for a beautifully smoked bird in this world, just not at my Thanksgiving table.
OK, so let’s get to the good part, shall we? Over the next few posts, I’ll go into detail of how I make my turkey – and maybe a few other things. Cranberries I think are also on my to-do list this year. If you’re looking for a good gravy recipe, or stuffing, well you’re at the wrong place. My mom makes the worlds best stuffing (well, dressing, since I don’t stuff my birds), so I don’t even bother. And my grandma’s gravy, by way of my dad, is sublime. I’ve never even tried to make gravy because why would I, her’s is incredible!
The Turkey, Phase 1
Remember when I said my turkey was ALMOST perfect? Well, I say almost because I’m trying something very slightly different this year. Usually, I brine my bird. There’s a lot of back and forth on that particular subject, and I feel like I’ve had good luck with it in the past. But my second favorite turkey ever was one that I dry brined. So I’m giving that a go this year as a small adjustment to the recipe I’ve done the past two years.
The Bird (and a half)
Step 1: Go out and get yourself a turkey! This year I got a 14.2 pound whole, fresh turkey, and a 7 pound turkey breast. Why the extra breast meat? A lot of the people I have Thanksgiving with prefer white meat (they CRAZY, but hey, who am I to judge.) Also, I wanted around 20 pounds before I started hacking everything apart. Plus I find birds bigger than around 15 pounds or so get very difficult to disassemble, which you will see shortly is important.
The Dry Brine
Step 2: Make your dry brine. For this, I use Alton Brown’s recipe from his Butterflied, Dry Brined Roasted Turkey recipe. His recipe is for a 14 pound turkey, so I did 1.5x everything.
- 5.25 Tbsp kosher salt
- 2.75 tsp rubbed sage
- 2.75 tsp dried thyme
- 1.875 tsp whole black peppercorns
- 0.75 tsp whole allspice berries
Take it all, and put it in a spice grinder. Grind into a coarse powder. Or be like me and get overzealous and grind it into an ultra fine powder. It’ll still do its job just fine!
Step 3: Disassemble your bird. This is the hardest part, and for a lot of people probably intimidating. Having done it a few times now, I can say it isn’t so bad! But it does take some practice to get good at. I’m far from an expert, so if you’re looking for a guide or step by step, I’d recommend checking out this video of chef Michael Voltaggio cutting up a turkey. Bonus, he’s where I got the base of this recipe from! So you get a sneak peek at what’s still to come.
Disassembled and ready to rest
Step 4: Now that your turkey is in pieces, line a sheet pan (or two) with parchment paper, spread out the pieces, and dust them on all sides with your dry brine. These now go into the fridge, uncovered, for the next 4 days. Yes, you really do want to do this days in advance. This gives the brine time to do its work, and beautiful work it is!
That’s all for the next few days until Wednesday, when we do the first cook. Yes, the first cook. I told you I take my turkey seriously!
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