Thanksgiving in September

It seemed like a good idea at the time.

My motivation was that I wanted to make a raspberry pie before the first frost. I love raspberry pie, and traditionally we have had the first frost in mid- to late September. Pie is Share Food. You need to distribute those calories widely. I asked Pat for some open dates, and she picked September 24, the day she and Nancy were going to be in the neighborhood anyway for the Farm Walk.

As long as people were coming over, I thought, why not get one of the giant turkeys out of the freezer? We could have a nice turkey dinner, not too much fuss, just dressing, mashed potatoes, and a veg, with raspberry pie for dessert. Easy peasy.

What I didn’t know is that a persistent heat wave was going to keep temperatures in the 90’s. Not what I had envisioned for a Sunday in late September when I planned to leave the oven on nearly the whole day.

Outdoor temperature 92.5 degrees. At the end of September?

No matter. I got out a 22-pound turkey to thaw a week in advance. Also a week in advance, I made a loaf of sourdough bread. I cut it in cubes and dried it out for the stuffing. I always question my sanity when I make bread for the express purpose of letting it go stale, but the stuffing is way better with homemade bread. Trust me.

Twenty-two pounds of turkey. Who else could I invite? Kate came to mind. She loves both turkey and raspberries. As luck would have it, she had no other plans. With 8 total diners, we would at least come out even with the pie.

Faithful readers may recall the fiasco of cooking half of the 32-pound tom turkey last Thanksgiving. I thought it would never get done. Hilda, bless her heart, found a recipe from Cook’s Country for cooking a large bird in 3 hours using a baking bag. I was game to try anything to speed up the process. Jane, bless her heart, knew exactly where to find baking bags at Meijer when we were shopping on Friday. Check.

Saturday I started prepping for the pie by mixing the crust and crushing enough raspberries to make two cups of juice.

I was proud of myself when I found the recipe for brining in the first place I looked. The options were for a 12- to 14-hour brine or a 4- to 6-hour brine. I figured I needed to start roasting at 1:00 on Sunday. Not wanting to get up at midnight to put the turkey in brine, I opted for the 4- to 6-hour version. I was up early Sunday mixing a total of 2.5 gallons of brine, 1 cup of table salt per gallon, and putting the turkey in it. Other little victories included finding a stock pot large enough for brine and turkey, and being able to get the whole thing in the spare refrigerator.

Brining the turkey

Next, I blind baked the pie crust. While it was baking, I mixed the raspberry juice with 3 tablespoons of corn starch and ¼ cup sugar. I brought it to a boil and cooked it 5 minutes, stirring the whole time so it wouldn’t stick to the bottom. While the raspberry goo cooled, I washed a quart of raspberries and spread them on a towel to dry. Then the goo was cool enough that it would not cook the raspberries and the crust was completely cooled, I mixed the raspberries with the goo and poured it into the crust. I covered it with plastic wrap and put it in the refrigerator to chill. I also put in a bowl and the beaters for the mixer. Heavy cream whips better when everything is cold.

In the middle of the night Saturday, it occurred to me that I had forgotten about the cranberries. Terry would miss cranberries if I didn’t make them. I had a bag in the freezer, which I put in a saucepan with a cup of sugar and a bit of water. After the berries popped and the sauce thickened, I put it in a bowl and got that in the refrigerator too.

The day was going by quickly. I kept thinking I would sit down for a minute to rest once I got a particular task done, but by the time one task was done, there would be something else to do. I did sit down to eat lunch. Before I knew it, 1:00 was rushing up, and it was time to put the turkey in the bag. “Remove the turkey from the brine, rinse it well, and dry it with paper towels.” It sounds so simple. Wrangling 22 pounds of raw turkey is not that easy. I could not get the wings folded behind the back. I finally got mad enough to make it happen, but one side popped out again when I got the bird in the bag. At that point, I thought, “Screw it.” 

The turkey in the bag

The turkey finally got in the oven at 1:23. They had better not be kidding about that 3 hour thing. Dinner was to be served at 5:30, and the turkey was supposed to rest for an hour before carving.

On to the dressing. I put the bread cubes in a large bowl and added chicken broth to soften them. I sautéed mushrooms, onions, and celery in butter and added that to the bread along with fresh parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme (really!). After checking for seasoning, I added three eggs, mixed well, and put it in a casserole.

Lord, it took me forever to prep the herbs. The turkey recipe suggested making herb butter to put on top of the sliced turkey before serving. It called for a tablespoon each of rosemary and thyme. The rosemary was the work of minutes. And then there was picking off all those tiny thyme leaves to make a tablespoon plus what I needed for the dressing. I put the rosemary and thyme in a glass measuring cup along with a stick of butter and set the whole thing by the stove so I would remember to put it in the microwave for one minute before drizzling it over the carved turkey.

I delivered the dressing upstairs to bake in Hilda’s oven, since there was no room in mine. Hilda had been working on scalloped corn and mashed potatoes. She simmered home-grown frozen sweet corn in half and half for 20 minutes, put it in a casserole, covered it with bread crumbs, and baked it. She put the mashed potatoes in a crock pot to keep warm.

I whipped the cream with a little vanilla and powdered sugar. I spread the whipped cream on the pie and decorated with 9 perfect raspberries that I had set aside. I crossed “pie” off my list.

Jane got to the house at 4:00 to help with the gravy.  The turkey wasn’t done, so we watched the Bears game for a while.

Kate arrived at 4:30 and hung out in the kitchen with Jane and me. She took over as photographer when I took the turkey out of the oven and cut the bag away.

Cutting the bag off the turkey

As promised by Cook’s Country, the turkey was browned, at least on the top. And it was done in about three and a half hours.

The turkey out of the bag

Because the turkey was in a bag, we couldn’t use the usual method of flour in the pan drippings. Kate assumed the role of Recipe Reader as Jane and I put together the gravy from the juices that had accumulated in the bag. The gravy turned out quite well, although perhaps not quite as good as pan-drippings gravy.

Pat and Nancy had a great time on the farm walk. They joined us a bit after 5:00. We sat down to dinner close to 5:30 as planned. The mashed potatoes had developed a lovely brown crust around the sides of the crock pot. The scalloped corn was to die for.

Counterclockwise from bottom: turkey, mashed potatoes, dressing, scalloped corn

Sometime in the evening, it occurred to me that September 24 was after September 19, and I had completely forgotten Pat’s birthday. Hilda found a candle for Pat’s piece of pie, and she was just as happy as if it had been on her actual birthday.

Pat with  her late birthday pie

Kate enjoyed the pie, too

When I got back to my kitchen at the end of the evening, there was the herb butter, uncooked  by the stove. Damn. All that work picking the thyme leaves off the stems for naught. I'll have to find something else to use it on.

Even though it was too hot to be roasting a turkey, at the end of the day, we had a fun meal with friends, I have a big space in my freezer that wasn’t there before, and I haven’t had to cook all week. All good.

Weights and measures

Avoirdupois is stupid. Avoirdupois is the archaic English system of weights (16 drams to the ounce; 16 ounces to the pound, etc.) that had been abandoned by every civilized nation on earth except the United States. If you fear conversion, you should not. You already drink water from half liter bottles, and I bet you don’t even worry about how many ounces that is. As a scientist, I went metric years ago. I am more likely to estimate length in cm than inches. Once you get a feel for how big each unit is, you just live in that world. The only difficulty I can see is in converting recipes, but that will only have to be done once and only when avoirdupois cups and measuring spoons are no long available.

Those of you who saw me in person last week know that I am riddled with disease and pestilence. When I gave the first exam Tuesday, all I heard from the students were sniffles and coughs. I didn’t stand a chance. Thus, I was in the market for some cough syrup, having finished what was left in the medicine cabinet from my last cold. Long ago when I was a respiratory therapist, I learned that cough suppressants and expectorants should not be taken together as they work at cross purposes. The function of a cough suppressant is obvious. An expectorant is designed to make you expectorate, that is cough up the crap that is in your lungs. Taking both together, the reasoning went, loosens the crap in your lungs and lets it sit there.

Over the years, however, it has gotten increasingly difficult to find cough syrup that does not have both (in addition to various combinations of pain reliever, decongestants, and antihistamines). In fact, I could find only one pure cough suppressant, a 12-hour formulation that seemed like a good idea. I hoped to make it through the day Thursday without having an embarrassing fit of hacking in front of the students. The dose was 10 ml, easily understood to all and sundry as “fill to the line on the cup in the box.” No ounce-to-ml conversion needed. The size of the bottle? 89 ml (3 fl oz). They can’t put in one more ml and sell it as a full 9 doses? Stupid.

Cough syrup sold in bottles of 8.9 doses

The cough suppressant without expectorant wasn’t so good either. After the first night on the new medicine, I had some serious chest congestion that wouldn’t budge. So I went to the store for some expectorant tablets.

My plan was to rest and drink lots of fluids Friday afternoon and Saturday. Then I was going to wake up well this morning. My plan did not work out. I am distinctly not all better. I still have coughing spells right down to my socks and need to keep up a steady diet of cold medications. I have not one shred of ambition. So tired of coughing. So tired, period. I feel that I will never have any energy again. I am, in fact, having a good old wallow today. Poor me. Maybe I’ll have a little nap.

Grapes and baby turtles

I was so tired last night I forgot two important events of the weekend. Ripping out the cucumbers and zucchini was the last activity of Saturday. First, we had to deal with the grapes. I took a break from my grading to help Terry take off the bird net. He picked the grapes and brought them to the house. After lunch, I hosed the grapes off and started removing the good ones from the stems, discarding any that were too ripe, not ripe enough, or full of bugs. I have to say the picnic bug population was WAY down this year. Last year, there were millions. Also unlike last year, we had a manageable number of grapes. When Terry finished picking, he sat with me to remove stems and sort.

Hilda was just putting the last jars of plums in the canner when the first two trays of cleaned grapes were done. “What can I do now?” she asked.

“Maybe you can cook down the grapes,” I suggested. “You can do it while you watch the plums.”

Dad helped with the straining and squeezing. They got 7 quarts done that afternoon. We had two more trays of grapes in the spare refrigerator, along with a tray of plums and some raspberries. Very full.

Hilda and Dad finished up the juice on Sunday afternoon, making another 7 quarts. Much less work than the 45 quarts we put up last year. We won’t be short-there are still quite a few jars from the 2016 vintage.

My weekend began with a trip to Elgin to go shopping with Jane. I got to her house about 12:30, and we had our usual conversation of what do you want to do about lunch, I don’t care, what do you want to do about lunch. Jane had a coupon for Boston Market, and we decided to split a turkey sandwich. We were about to get in Jane’s car when she looked down the driveway and said, “Is that a baby turtle?”

It was a baby turtle! Soon we saw a second one. 

Two baby snapping turtles in Jane's driveway

The first one was very lively and kept trying to run under my car. The second was more sluggish, maybe from being out in the hot, dry sun too long.

Backstory: In June, when we still got rain, Jane spotted this snapper in her flower bed looking for a place to lay eggs. The turtle ultimately decided it was not a good spot, but the presence of baby turtles suggests that she found someplace in the neighborhood that was suitable.

The beginning of the story: A snapping turtle trying out nesting sites in Jane's flower bed on June 14

I took the two baby turtles down to the creek to release them. When I got there, I had a problem. The flood back in July had left steep banks down to the water. I was not dressed for standing in water. I was afraid if I released the babies on land, they would fall down the cliff and land upside down on the narrow strip of land next to the creek. Turtles can’t breathe upside down (I’ve always heard), and I wasn’t sure they could right themselves. I felt the best course of action was to toss them gently into the water. Turtle #1 popped right up to the surface and swam with enthusiasm to the shore, seeking a shadowing spot to hide. Turtle #2 disappeared for a few minutes. I finally spotted it on the bottom. It perked up shortly and began walking underwater to the shore. Soon it apparently ran out of air and came to the surface.

Meanwhile, Jane had gotten a box from her garage and was scouring the neighborhood for nest mates. She found one in Lee’s yard and another in Lenore’s driveway. I joined the hunt, spotting one in the road in front of the house formerly known as Jane’s parents’. 

Three baby snapping turtles  in a box

I took the box and headed back for the spot where I released the first two. “It’s shorter if you go between Lenore’s and Steve’s houses. They won’t mind.”

It may have been closer, but it was really steep. The only way I could get anywhere near the water was to take my life in my hands and clamber down some rocks in front of a culvert. The water was faster there. I saw one turtle make it to the side and one float downstream. I lost track of the third one.

The emergency turtle rescue had put us off schedule for the afternoon. Seeing no more turtles, we went to lunch and on to our shopping. When we got back, there were six more baby turtles, but three of them had been run over in the road. We collected the remaining three, and I took them to the creek where I had taken the first two (much less treacherous for me!). They swam here and there, taking refuge in the roots at the edge of the water. It was sad that we were not able to rescue them all, but they should not have been playing in the street. We couldn’t spend all afternoon waiting for them to make and appearance.

Of pullets and plums

It didn’t take long for me to regret going to Minnesota last weekend. I was up early Monday working on posting lecture outlines and reading quizzes for Unit 2 online. It took until noon. And then I had to start on the other things on my to-do list. While I was working on my laptop, Terry was out picking our very first plums. When you grow things on trees, there is nothing between “zero” and “too many.” So we’ve got plums. Forty-five pounds of them.

45 pounds of plums

Hilda took a lot of the plums upstairs to can.

“I should make a plum tart,” I said to Terry. “I wonder how you do that.”

He laughed. I started going through cookbooks. And as so often happens, it was good old reliable Betty Crocker who came through for me. Other than being too sweet, it was a good tart. The crust had ground almonds in it.

Plum tart

I never liked grocery-store plums, but I’ve been eating two plums every day. They are sweet, free-stone, and perfect for lunch. Yet there are still too many. Today I cut everything that was ripe in half, took out the pits, and put them in the dehydrator. We’ll see how that goes. I left the rest at room temperature to finish ripening.

The pullets are getting big. We are eager to have everyone in one coop. I really hoped we would have some rain before we had to move the fences. At present, the ground is hard as a rock. I took a hard look at the fence configuration and figured that I would only need to move five posts of the netting in the permanent run. There was no getting around moving the entire chick fence, but the posts could stay where they were.

The first tasks was to tear the cucumbers out of the raised beds between the two runs. The plants pulled out easier than I thought they would. I cleaned the vines off the trellis, took the trellis down, and pulled out the posts that came loose. Terry got the rest with a shovel. While I was at it, I pulled the zucchini and pattipans. Dry as it’s been, it is amazing to me that they would succumb to powdery mildew, but there you are. Terry thinks it’s from the dew. Which just makes you wonder how we can have so much dew when it has been so dry.

Zucchini overcome by powdery mildew

Hilda and I were out at 6:20 this morning. It was cold. Wool socks would have been a good idea. We cut the cable ties holding the chick fence to the posts. I pulled out the five hen fence posts and moved them around the raised beds. We rotated the chick fence so it reached Coop 1. I put in two fence posts between Coop 1 and the greenhouse. We put new cable ties on the chick fence in its new position. It took an hour and a half. The girls were eager to be out of the coops by the time we got everything set. To my great relief, the pullets did not walk right through the net fence. It helped that they had access to their familiar turf. Last year, they wanted to get back with the turkeys in the worst way.

No fence between the two runs.

As the day went on, the hens invaded the pullets’ territory. The pullets pretty much stayed in their area. Hopefully they will bond without too much pecking and fighting.

We look forward to the pullets’ maturity, as egg production has been low. We remembered yesterday that the days are down to 13 hours. Fourteen hours of light is best for egg laying. I put the coop light on the timer again. Still only one egg today.

Meanwhile, I had my usual Sunday chores—baking bread and muffins, making lunches—plus getting the plums ready for the dehydrator. The sauerkraut had developed a film on top and a kind of boozy odor. I guessed that a yeast had invaded. It smelled fine under the top layer, but it had to be put up sooner rather than later. And there went the afternoon.

Someone I was talking to recently said that goldfinches nest late in the summer. This was news to me because I have personally observed goldfinches nesting in midsummer. Terry was out trimming his red maple trees when he saw something in the branches that “looked like a tennis ball,” which he recognized as a goldfinch nest. It certainly looks like a cozy place to grow up.

The "tennis ball" nest of a gold finch

Terry figured the nest was empty, but as he prepared to cut the branch it was on, he saw two little bald heads. So he left it. From my previous observations, I know it is 14 days from hatch to fledge, and these chicks already have several days in. Plenty of time to finish trimming the trees after the chicks are gone.

Little bald chicks

Minnesota State Fair

This weekend, Terry and I went to visit our friends Diane and Tom in Shoreview, MN with the goal of going to the Minnesota State Fair. The food at the fair had been featured at least once on Food TV. We were intrigued.

We got to Shoreview Friday evening. The Minneapolis paper had extensive coverage on fair food. The goal seemed to be to put anything on a stick included s’mores, spaghetti and meatballs, and tater tot hamburger hot dish. The s’more on a stick sounded particularly appalling. I don’t like s’mores to begin with, and these were made with Rice Krispie treats and treats made of other cereals, such as Froot Loops. Seriously, s’mores are too sweet with just the chocolate and marshmallows. The deep fried olives on a stick, stuffed with cream cheese, were more my style.

Diane and Tom’s house was conveniently located within walking distance of a bus stop to the fair. We walked there mid-morning on Saturday. The bus had no schedule other than “every 20 minutes.” We didn’t wait too long before a fancy coach bus showed up. The strollers were stowed underneath the bus, and even though the bus had a huge number of seats, we were lucky to get some. The last folks had to stand.

We went straight to the fairgrounds. I used my phone to take a picture of the sign where the bus dropped us off so I would know where to wait to go home. I learned this trick from my students, who constantly take pictures of everything I write on the board. I felt so young!

Diane had gotten our tickets in advance, which was not only cheaper but enabled us several enormous lines at the ticket booth. One through the entrance gate, we were greeted by a lovely garden. Upon discussion, we agreed to meet there in two hours.

Garden at the Fair entrance (Tom, Diane, and Terry are to the right)

Diane took a picture of Terry and me under the entry sign.

Terry and me under the entrance sign

And then it was off to jostle our way through the masses. This is the beginning of the fair. The wires above are for gondolas that go over the fair. Note also the fried pickle booth. Fried pickles were very popular.

Gondola rides and fried pickles

As was food on a stick, including hot dish on a stick.

Hot dish on a stick

Scotch eggs on a stick (a Scotch egg is a hard-boiled egg wrapped in sausage, breaded and fried. I’ve had a Scotch egg and found I did not like them as much as I thought I would.)

Scotch eggs on a stick

Cheese on a stick.

Cheese on a stick

And anything that can be fried was available fried, such as deep fried pie.

Deep fried pies

I had heard rumors that there was deep-fried butter, but was unable to verify its existence. But then, we covered less than half of the fair.

Diane and I went to see the animals. Terry and Tom went separate ways. We went to the sheep and poultry barn, which was filled with goats and rabbits. We watched one round of dairy goat judging.

Judging dairy goats. Apparently, you must dress like your goat

And looked at the rabbits, finding one that looked like the Easter bunny.

The Easter bunny

We asked at the information booth where the chickens were. Alas, they had gone home on Wednesday. The Minnesota State Fair runs for 12 days. I’m sure the chickens were glad to get home, but we were disappointed to have missed them.

A woman selling alpaca wool products brought her alpacas along. So cute!

Alpaca

We walked past the Coliseum, which was decorated with images of industrious, well-armed pioneers and Native Americans on horseback. I’m sure there’s a story behind the “L’Etoile du Nord” (north star in French) at the bottom.

Carving on the Coliseum

We pressed on to the Dairy building to see the butter sculptures. We were greeted by rows and rows of vendors. Where is the dairy? I finally spotted a sign way in the back for the butter sculptures. There was a small case for award-winning cheeses back there too. The butter sculpture was in progress. The model, bundled in a winter coat and wool mittens, sat for the artist who carefully sliced curls of butter from a 90 pound block of butter while hunched against the 40°F cold. The whole area rotated, displaying the nine sculptures that had already been done and the two remaining uncarved blocks with photos of their subjects attached to the front. Each sculpture takes 6 to 8 hours, and the subject of the sculpture gets to take it home at the end of the fair. And do what with it??

Butter sculptures

The back wall of the building was devoted to a brisk business in ice cream and malts. Diane wanted a malt, but the line was unbelievable. Worse than customs in Miami, and just as many stanchions.

We went to the Agriculture/Horticulture Building next. There was a lovely water garden out front with an informational plaque about gardening with native species.

Native water garden

The building was laid out with wings radiating from a central and highly decorated point.

The hub of the Horticulture Building

The vegetable competition was closed for judging.

Judging the vegetables

We could still see the giant pumpkins. The winner was 775 pounds. Because we can.

Giant pumpkins

We admired the apple competition.

Minnesota apples

And the fruit competition.

Grapes, pears, and other fruits

There had also been a wine competition. A glass case displayed bottles with ribbons. All the bottles were empty, which made Diane want to be in on it. Because it was all wines made in Minnesota, I wasn’t so sure.

The empty bottles that remained after the wine competition

Various flower groups rotate through one wing. We were lucky enough to be there for the Orchid Society’s show.

The orchid show

An unusual orchid

Another orchid unlike any I'd seen

So delicate!

At the back of the wing for grains was the seed art. It was amazing. Some people have a lot of patience. And a lot of glue.

Picture made entirely of seeds

This was made of all natural materials, mostly seeds, but the hearts are birch bark

This is the sugar beet competition. The sign on the lower right says that a 3-pound sugar beet produces 6.5 ounces of sugar. That doesn’t seem very efficient, does it? I wonder what it is for sugar cane.

Largest sugar beet contest

We were hungry by then. Diane was still thinking of a malt, and got one at a custard stand without noticing that it was custard. Still, she was third in line instead of 437^th.

Diane orders a malt at a custard stand

This is the best picture I could get of the mass of humanity that was everywhere.

I can't remember when I last saw so many people at once, if ever

After careful contemplation, I settled on hot dish on a stick, not because I thought it would be good (although it was recommended by the newspaper’s food critic) but because it was the most Minnesotan thing.

And here it is—four pre-cooked meatballs separated by three tater tots, dipped in corn bread batter and deep fried. What does not show up in the photo is the small cup of cream of mushroom soup dipping sauce. It was delicious! The corn bread was light and slightly sweet. The meatballs were nicely seasoned (although not spicy—that would be so NOT Minnesotan). Tater tots are tater tots. I was pleasantly surprised.

Hot dish on a stick (I had to hold Diane's malt while she took the picture). Not visible: cream of mushroom soup dipping sauce.

A very popular stand was Sweet Martha’s Cookie Jar, which was turning out millions of chocolate chip cookies. I was certain that they would not be as good as the ones I make with butter and walnuts. But people were lined up in abundance.

People waiting for freshly baked chocolate chip cookies

Close up of the bucket of cookies held by a complete stranger and taken without her knowledge

We met Tom and Terry back at the garden at 1:00. Terry was finishing a 16-ounce cup of fries. (I noticed that the French fries sizes went up to “Souvenir bucket” for $11.) He had also had walleye on a stick. It was not breaded or batter-dipped and was unsuitable for dipping.

We waited in a long line for the bus back home. My feet were tired, and I was glad we got a seat for the ride.

When we got back to the house, many monarch butterflies were flitting around Diane’s native flowers.

Monarchs on meadow blazing star

We rested the remainder of the afternoon. Terry through a dog-slimed ball for Rio, who never seemed to tire of the game. Later than evening, Terry was rewarded by being accepted as a new friend.

Terry and Rio

We came home today so we could have tomorrow to avoid holiday traffic and get ready for the week. It was fun trip!