At 9:30 on Thanksgiving night I was standing at the peninsula with a carving knife, a stack of gallon zip bags and a Sharpie, and the turkey frame on the cutting board still had more meat on it than some whole birds I've bought. Sixteen people had eaten. Sixteen pounds of smoked turkey had not noticed.
Ryan's bird came off the pellet grill a beautiful mahogany color, and after everybody went home I pulled about four pounds of meat off it, plus the carcass. The rule I teach in my kitchen safety unit is the one I follow at home: cooked food goes into the fridge within two hours, and leftovers get eaten within about four days. So everything was off the bone and cold by ten, and two cups went straight to the chest freezer, labeled, for January.
Then we ate turkey three different ways and nobody got tired of it.
The soup and the pot pie
Friday: turkey and rice soup. The carcass went into my biggest stockpot with 12 cups of water, an onion, two carrots, two ribs of celery and a bay leaf, and simmered about three hours. That gave me roughly 10 cups of faintly smoky stock. The stock needed salt, which after the practice bird's brine I took as a compliment. I added 3 cups of chopped turkey, more diced carrot and celery, and a little thyme, and cooked the rice in its own pot, a cup of dry rice, adding a scoop to each bowl. That's on purpose. The first year I made this soup, I cooked the rice in the pot, and by the next day's lunch it had soaked up nearly all the broth and turned into turkey porridge.
Sunday: turkey pot pie. Three tablespoons of butter, a diced onion, 1/3 cup of flour, 2 cups of that stock and 1/2 cup of milk make the sauce. Stir in 3 cups of turkey and 1 1/2 cups of frozen peas and carrots, pour it all into Granny's 10-inch skillet and top it with a refrigerated crust from Kroger, because every scrap of my own pie dough went into Thanksgiving. Cut vents, bake at 400°F for 35 to 40 minutes, until the crust is deep golden and the filling bubbles up through the vents. Let it sit 10 minutes before you cut it.
But the one the kids asked for was Saturday.
In July we spent a day in Louisville and ate a hot brown at the hotel where it was invented. Since then Jack has asked roughly once a month when we're going back for "the cheese turkey toast." A hot brown is an open-faced turkey sandwich on thick toast, covered in a cheese sauce, broiled until it spots brown and finished with bacon and tomato. Leftover smoked turkey is perfect for it.
Ingredients
- 4 tablespoons (1/2 stick) butter
- 1/4 cup all-purpose flour
- 2 cups whole milk, warmed
- 3/4 cup finely grated Pecorino Romano, divided
- 1/4 teaspoon salt, a pinch of black pepper and a pinch of nutmeg
- 8 slices Texas toast, toasted
- About 1 1/2 pounds leftover turkey, sliced thick
- 2 tablespoons turkey stock or broth
- 2 Roma tomatoes, halved lengthwise
- 8 slices bacon, cooked until just crisp
- Paprika and chopped parsley for the top
How I make it
- Heat the oven to 350°F. Put the turkey slices in a baking dish with the stock, cover with foil and warm 15 minutes, until it reaches 165°F.
- Melt the butter in a saucepan over medium heat. Whisk in the flour and let it bubble 1 to 2 minutes without browning. Slowly whisk in the warm milk and keep stirring 4 to 5 minutes, until the sauce is thick enough to coat a spoon.
- Take the pan off the heat, then whisk in 1/2 cup of the Pecorino, the salt, pepper and nutmeg.
- Switch the oven to broil, with a rack about 6 inches from the heat. On a rimmed metal sheet pan (not glass under a broiler), lay out four servings of two toast slices each. Pile on the turkey, set the tomato halves alongside and ladle sauce over everything. Sprinkle on the rest of the cheese.
- Broil 3 to 4 minutes, until the sauce is bubbling and spotted brown. Watch it the whole time.
- Cross two slices of bacon over each one, dust with paprika and parsley, and serve right away with a knife and fork.
Why does the cheese go in off the heat? Cheese proteins tighten up when they get too hot and squeeze out their fat, which is how a cheese sauce turns grainy and oily. Stirring it into a hot sauce that's no longer bubbling melts it gently and keeps it smooth.
Jack gave mine an 8 and refused to compare it with Louisville, which is the most diplomatic thing he has ever done. Nora had seconds. Ryan didn't say anything, which at our table is the highest compliment there is.
All three dinners together cost about $22 in extras: bacon, Pecorino, Texas toast, tomatoes, a pie crust, rice and a few vegetables. By Sunday night there was one bag left in the freezer labeled TURKEY 11/27, and nobody has asked about it yet.
