Originally Posted:
I don't eat turkey. Not for about 15 years. Even with me not eating, the 20-pounder is almost gone. One drumstick, a lb of sliced white meat and some gravy are the final offerings of a noble bird. I have two pot pies in the freezer, one for son, one for spouse. Five gallons of turkey soup are consumed and reduced to two small ziploc containers and all that remains of dinner besides the turkey is a bit of sauteed red cabbage with a dijon glaze.
Even though I don't eat it I still insist on buying organic, free-range. I know free range means they can wander and I know they don't. I just like the idea that they aren't subjected to too-tiny cages. The first Thanksgiving in Massachusetts (mine, not the Pilgrims, in 1994) I searched for free range. In vain. The people behind the meat counter at the local supermarket looked at me as though I had three heads (but then maybe that's just the way New Englanders look at all outsiders.) Finally, one woman let me in on why they looked at me like that. Turns out they didn't know what free range meant. Nor organic, as ubiquitous as the word is now. Not only did that store not carry free range poultry, they didn't know who might. Here's some thankfulness for changing times!
I made one last pumpkin pie today to use up the last of the whole wheat crust. I used my godmother's recipe, "Never Fail Pie Crust," which she annotated in the back cover of a Romanian cookbook she once gave me. She's been gone a decade now and sometimes the way I conjure her again is with her pie crust! And if she showed up, she would complain about the way I waste water. Hopefully, she would give me hints about dealing with kitchen compost. She would be glad I chose this man instead of the previous one! And I hope she would think I turned out okay. She never came to a dinner that I prepared from scratch, although she was the one that taught my sister and me how to do it: how to make anything from scratch. My mother was keen on the latest labor saving devices including slice & bake cookies but my godmother would have none of that. She grew up in a time to which we are now returning. Layaway and home canning, compost piles and button jars, swap meets and auctions and cash. She was right thirty years ago and I wasn't listening. I give thanks that I had her in my life.
Jennie Botosan's Never Fail Pie Crust
4 cups of flour
2 teaspoons salt
1 3/4 cups shortening
1 egg
1 tablespoon vinegar
1/2 cup cold water
Sift dry ingredients. Cut in shortening with 2 knives or pastry cutter. Beat egg slightly, add vinegar & water. Mix well and add slowly to ingredients, blending well with fork. Chill in fridge.
Roll on pastry cloth or between wax paper. Makes two double crust pies.
I don't eat turkey. Not for about 15 years. Even with me not eating, the 20-pounder is almost gone. One drumstick, a lb of sliced white meat and some gravy are the final offerings of a noble bird. I have two pot pies in the freezer, one for son, one for spouse. Five gallons of turkey soup are consumed and reduced to two small ziploc containers and all that remains of dinner besides the turkey is a bit of sauteed red cabbage with a dijon glaze.
Even though I don't eat it I still insist on buying organic, free-range. I know free range means they can wander and I know they don't. I just like the idea that they aren't subjected to too-tiny cages. The first Thanksgiving in Massachusetts (mine, not the Pilgrims, in 1994) I searched for free range. In vain. The people behind the meat counter at the local supermarket looked at me as though I had three heads (but then maybe that's just the way New Englanders look at all outsiders.) Finally, one woman let me in on why they looked at me like that. Turns out they didn't know what free range meant. Nor organic, as ubiquitous as the word is now. Not only did that store not carry free range poultry, they didn't know who might. Here's some thankfulness for changing times!
I made one last pumpkin pie today to use up the last of the whole wheat crust. I used my godmother's recipe, "Never Fail Pie Crust," which she annotated in the back cover of a Romanian cookbook she once gave me. She's been gone a decade now and sometimes the way I conjure her again is with her pie crust! And if she showed up, she would complain about the way I waste water. Hopefully, she would give me hints about dealing with kitchen compost. She would be glad I chose this man instead of the previous one! And I hope she would think I turned out okay. She never came to a dinner that I prepared from scratch, although she was the one that taught my sister and me how to do it: how to make anything from scratch. My mother was keen on the latest labor saving devices including slice & bake cookies but my godmother would have none of that. She grew up in a time to which we are now returning. Layaway and home canning, compost piles and button jars, swap meets and auctions and cash. She was right thirty years ago and I wasn't listening. I give thanks that I had her in my life.
Jennie Botosan's Never Fail Pie Crust
4 cups of flour
2 teaspoons salt
1 3/4 cups shortening
1 egg
1 tablespoon vinegar
1/2 cup cold water
Sift dry ingredients. Cut in shortening with 2 knives or pastry cutter. Beat egg slightly, add vinegar & water. Mix well and add slowly to ingredients, blending well with fork. Chill in fridge.
Roll on pastry cloth or between wax paper. Makes two double crust pies.
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