How Not to Share Your Turkey Dinner

“Since you’re cooking that turkey anyway, why don’t we invite somebody over?” my hospitable hubby asked as he saw me wrestling the giant bird into the roaster. It was Saturday of Canadian Thanksgiving weekend.

“Sure,” I said. “Call around and see who can come on short notice.”

He did, and soon we were expecting our friends Pat and Claudette for a turkey dinner with all the trimmings. As the afternoon wore on, it dawned on me that I could smell only the faintest hint of turkey. Shouldn’t there be a wonderful aroma wafting out the windows by now? I opened the oven. It was almost cold, the turkey barely half cooked.

Hubby checked it out. “Looks like the element is shot.”

Now what? Can’t get a repair guy on Saturday. Borrow a neighbor’s oven? Haul it over to my sister’s? Move the party to Pat and Claudette’s?

“Why don’t you cook it on the barbecue?” our son suggested as he headed out the door in search of a more interesting environment.

Hey, that’s not a bad idea. I lit the barbecue and loaded the turkey, roasting pan and all, inside. It just fit. I went back inside to peel potatoes.

When Pat and Claudette arrived, Hubby went out to check on the turkey. It should be done by now. It would have been too, had the wind not blown the barbecue out.

The guys moved the barbecue around to the sheltered side of the house and re-lit it. We’d just have to wait.

Next time we checked on the turkey, our propane tank had run dry. The turkey was far from cooked and we were all starving. Besides, the potatoes, vegetables, and stove-top stuffing were ready.

Claudette got an idea. “We’ve got all the trimmings. Why don’t you boys go pick up one of those rotisserie chickens from the Co-op?”

While they were gone, Claudette made a salad and I made gravy from the little juice the turkey had produced. Just when we were expecting the guys to walk in the door, they called.

“Co-op was out of chickens, so we tried Sobeys. They’re out, too. What do you want us to do?”

Fifteen minutes later, the boys came back with a bucket of KFC and we sat down to chicken with all the trimmings. Meanwhile, our original bird continued cooking outside with the propane the boys had brought back. By the time Pat and Claudette said good-bye that evening, the turkey was mouthwatering. That is, our mouths would have been watering had our tummies not already been stuffed.

We ate turkey leftovers, with thankful hearts, for a very long time.

 

The Lazy Cook's Guide to Leftovering

Humorist Calvin Trillin said “The most remarkable thing about my mother is that for thirty years, she served the family nothing but leftovers. The original meal has never been found.”

It’s possible my kids say this about me. But I like to think I elevated the dignity of leftovers. For example, my mother used to call leftovers “scraps.” I suspect she learned the term from her mother, but I succeeded in breaking that cycle of disrespect with my generation. “Scraps” just sounds too much like something you throw to the pigs or chickens, don’t you think?

When our kids lived at home, we seldom had enough leftovers at one meal to make another. But I was too frugal to toss anything out. Thus, our kids grew accustomed to “Fridge Surprise,” frequently served on Saturday for lunch. You pull out all the leftover bits and pieces from the week and see what you can create. In the days before microwave ovens, you had to reheat food in a pot on the stove or in a casserole dish in the oven. Rather than dirtying multiple pots, I would combine all leftover snippets together into one pot. Possibly add a can of mushroom soup. Top it with cheese, heat it, and you’re good to go. For a side dish, you take every leftover originally intended to be eaten cold, along with any sketchy-looking fresh vegetables, toss them together, and call it salad. 

Fridge Surprise never tasted the same twice. 

Once we acquired a microwave, Fridge Surprise lost all its mystique because food could easily be reheated in its original form right on a plate. It became Fridge Buffet.

A weekend soup project in progress

Now that it’s only the two of us, there’s enough for a second meal almost any time I cook. Not leftovers, mind you. Because when you PLAN for it to be more than one meal, it’s not technically leftovers. Not in my cookbook. Every weekend, I make a big pot of vegetable-based soup knowing it’s going to provide lunch every day through the work week. Since I get off work at 12:45, I arrive home famished. I want to ensure there’s something both convenient and healthy so I don’t fall into the habit of grabbing something less nutritious. I never refer to it as leftover soup.

When I cook a turkey, my family can count on four things in the days ahead: turkey sandwiches, turkey tetrazzini, turkey enchiladas, and of course, turkey soup. I don’t, however, consider any of these meals “leftovers.” Each is a new dish, made from leftovers. There’s an important difference. 

In recent years, my turkey tetrazzini recipe has become a little healthier as I’ve swapped white pasta with brown or rice noodles, exchanged fresh mushrooms for canned, and used Greek yogurt in place of sour cream. It’s as delicious as ever, so I’ll share it with you here.

Mix together two cans low-sodium mushroom soup with one cup Greek yogurt. A wire whip works great. Add two cups of cut-up cooked turkey or chicken, one cup of sliced fresh mushrooms, and four ounces of spaghetti, cooked. Mix thoroughly and spread into a greased 13x9 pan (glass works best). Sprinkle with parmesan cheese and paprika. Bake uncovered at 350 for 30-35 minutes. Easy-peasy!

Hope you’re enjoying your leftovers and feeling grateful to have them. Proverbs 17:1 says, “Better a dry crust eaten in peace than a house filled with feasting—and conflict.” (NLT)