Thanksgiving

As with the novel, the demise of the potato is much discussed but never actually materializes, at least not in my house. This is not an exhaustive list, but it should help you cook potatoes that will go with Mediterranean dishes, Eastern European food, Indian, Greek, or sort-of-French recipes. You can stick them in the oven on the shelf below (or alongside) whatever starch-less main course you’re cooking. The first recipe is the most basic and can take endless simple variations. You do have to make sure your potatoes are cut to the correct (and roughly the same) size, though these are forgiving rather than exacting dishes. Cooked potatoes are tender and the tip of a knife will tell you whether they’re ready or not.

I’m cheating here, because this isn’t entirely cooked in the oven, but the brief roasting is what helps Brussels sprouts achieve their optimum potential, instead of waterlogging them in a saucepan. I ate a similar dish at Rotisserie Georgette in New York—a restaurant that specializes in roast chicken—then came straight home and made this. It’s been a regular in my house ever since, and not just at Christmas.

The sauce here is rather like a vegetarian version of the Piedmontese anchovy sauce, bagna cauda (though it’s even more umami-packed). It’s not one of those vegetable recipes that feels like a side dish, where you keep searching for the focus, but has enough different flavors and textures from each vegetable to be layered and surprising.

Whenever it’s served, a scalloped potato gratin is usually the best thing on the table. With tender potatoes suffused with cream and herbs, and a burnished lid of melted, buttery cheese, there are few things more delicious. That’s why I think you should make potato gratin the centerpiece of your meal, rather than as a side dish to a juicy steak or a roast chicken. Or, if you really want both meat and potatoes, why not mix things up and make the steak the side dish to the gratin?

Crispy on the outside, soft and speckled with flavorful goodness on the inside. There really isn’t anything to dislike about the stuffing muffin. Try em out on your Thanksgiving guests this year and prepare for the compliments to roll into the new year. :)

A little sweet potato kneaded into yeasted dough makes rolls extra soft and sweet. Down South, we like our bread so tender that it’s sometimes on the edge of underbaked. I affectionately call thoses quishy rolls. These orange-tinted rounds can—and should—be baked all the way through. They’ll end up as supple as any squishy ones.

We rolled up to Sugar’s Place in the middle of theday in the middle of July. Across the street from the Mississippi College School of Law in Jackson, this little restaurant has some of the best soul food I’ve ever eaten. I walked in with no appetite and left wishing I had eaten more. And I couldn’t stop thinking about its baked chicken. Chef-owner mother-son team Glenda Cage Barner and Donovan Barner worked some magic with those chicken legs. The meat pulled right off the bone but still had a nice chew. You could taste the seasonings all the way through the meat. Onions melted into the jus shimmering around the chicken. It felt as warming as a beloved family meal but like the fantasy version — where your family makes the best chicken in the world.

Oh. My. God. Did I just create the best Thanksgiving dressing ever? Why yes, yes I did. You’re welcome. I got all the flavors of classic dressing (that’s stuffing to you Northerners)—onion, celery, sage—and suspended them in a creamy one-pan cornbread. With this recipe, I’ve saved you the step of baking a whole loaf of cornbread just to crumble into a side dish. Anything I can do to make your home cooking easier and tastier, I’ll do. This just saved you a whole lotta time on Thanksgiving and it’s gonna get you a whole lotta praise.

For a turkey gravy that really tastes like the bird but doesn't require drippings, we began by making a full-flavored turkey stock that included not just the neck and giblets but also some excess skin and fat from the turkey—powerhouse sources of turkey flavor. We started our untraditional method for making turkey stock by simmering the neck, giblets, and trimmings in chicken broth in a Dutch oven (chosen instead of a saucepan for its greater surface area); doing so efficiently extracted flavor-packed juices and fat from the parts that browned and formed a rich fond once the liquid evaporated. We then sautéed chopped carrot, celery, and onion for aromatic depth; deglazed the pot with white wine; added more chicken broth; simmered the stock (covered to prevent evaporation) for about an hour; and strained out the solids. We didn't defat the stock, since the aromatic compounds in the bird's fat contributed a significant amount of turkey flavor. Then, to turn the stock into a gravy, we made a roux by toasting flour in melted butter and whisking the stock into the roux.