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Mess up the gravy, and your turkey’s cooked
• by Julia M. Usher - Photo by Steve Adams Studio and food styling by Julia M. Usher
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Thanksgiving 2004 is sure to go down as the most catastrophic in Usher family history, and like it or not, I accept complete responsibility: The menu (all six courses) was my design; I insisted on cooking everything (including the cranberry sauce and two other condiments); and the meal was at my house (in a brand-new and unfamiliar kitchen).
The holiday got off to an inauspicious start with the discovery that my trusted organic turkey farmer had closed her business, leaving me short one very important ingredient. After traveling 30 miles to the nearest organic market, only to find it had no extra birds, I reluctantly settled for a lesser variety, pumped with antibiotics and who-knows-what preservatives.
Two hours later, a three-onion casserole emerged from the oven. From the looks of it, I had gotten my groove back. Richly caramelized and gooey with cheese, the casserole was as close to perfect as it gets. I had barely finished patting myself on the back when I spotted my husband moving the dish off the crowded counter to the top of a new kitchen cabinet. Normally, I would have welcomed his tidying of my workspace, but in this case, the cabinet was just a facade that lacked a top. I let out a shrill cry and, in a nose-dive, I traversed the length of the room, hoping to catch the dish before it hit the floor. The casserole was not lost, though, regrettably, I cannot say the same about my composure.
When I finally brought the meal to the table, I half expected a standing ovation. But no smiles or oohs and ahs were to greet me – only looks of concern, if not displeasure, followed by anxious inquiries about the whereabouts of the gravy.
You see, by the time the bird came out of the oven, the stress of the day had completely derailed me. Out of steam, I tore off my apron, threw in the kitchen towel and bagged the last-minute gravy task.
The moral of my Thanksgiving tale: Never let a daunting menu get in the way of the gravy, and don’t be intimidated by the gravy-making task.
Gravy is essentially roux (a 1-to-1 mixture of fat to flour used as a thickener), defatted drippings from the turkey and poultry stock, cooked to the desired consistency and then seasoned with salt, pepper and herbs. The stock is the ingredient that requires the most foresight, so let’s start with that. I always advocate going the homemade route whenever possible. Just be sure to make the stock well ahead, either the day before or even earlier. (Homemade stock will stay fresh in the fridge for about a week, but it can also be frozen without loss of flavor for up to a few months.) Since you probably won’t have turkey bones hanging around to flavor the stock (at least, not yet), feel free to use chicken backs, necks or wing tips left over from earlier meals or ordered in advance from your local butcher.
If you’re really pressed for time, don’t hesitate to use store-bought chicken broth. Reason one: Some of these products are quite good. My favorite brand is Pacific Natural Foods, which makes an organic, free-range, low-sodium and fat-free chicken broth that comes in a box. Reason two: Even a relatively small, 12- to 14-pound bird can generate a cup or so of drippings – and the more drippings, the less stock or broth you need to add to the gravy for a given quantity of roux. Simply bump up the ratio of drippings to stock, and you can reliably mask small shortcomings in grocery stock flavor. One major caveat: Should you choose a canned stock, you can throw all I’ve said to the wind, as these stocks have a distinctive metallic taste that is virtually impossible to disguise.
Defatting the stock and drippings – that is, removing the oil slick that rises to the top – is a crucial step in making good gravy. I strongly recommend using a fat separator – a tall, clear container with a long, funky-looking spout that exits close to the container bottom – rather than the old-school method, which involves scooping the fat layer off with a small spoon.
So, if you find yourself at a crossroads this Thanksgiving, uncertain about whether to make gravy or call it quits, I urge you to stay on track with these important tips and my no-fail giblet-and-thyme gravy recipe that follows.
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Plain But Good Giblet and Thyme Gravy
Yield: About 3 cups
4 to 5 cups hot poultry stock, divided
Turkey neck and giblets, reserved from one 14- to 16-lb. turkey
Pan drippings from one roasted 14- to 16-lb. turkey
5 Tbsp. reserved turkey fat (or unsalted butter)
5 Tbsp. all-purpose flour
1 Tbsp. chopped fresh thyme leaves
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
• Pour 2 cups of the poultry stock into a small saucepan. Bring the stock to a boil over medium-high heat, reduce the heat to low and add the turkey neck and giblets – except for the liver. Cover the pan and simmer 1 1/2 to 2 hours until the giblets are cooked through and quite tender. Add the liver in the last 10 minutes of cooking.
• Drain and discard the broth. Pick the meat off the neck and finely chop it along with the cooked giblets and liver. Set aside.
• Once your bird has finished cooking, pull it – and the rack it sits on – out of the pan. Pour the poultry drippings through a sieve into a tall, clear container or fat separator.
• Place the roasting pan over two burners on medium-high heat. Stir until the residual drippings and turkey bits are richly caramelized, if they are not already, and then gradually add 1 cup hot poultry stock. Stir vigorously to remove the caramelized bits from the bottom of the pan and to distribute their flavor throughout the stock. (This process is known as deglazing.) Continue to cook a few minutes, stirring constantly.
• Pour the deglazed mixture through the sieve into the same container that holds the drippings and discard any solid matter in the sieve.
• Let the mixture sit a few minutes until the fat rises to the top. Skim off the fat, reserving about 5 tablespoons for the next step. (If using a fat separator, simply pour off the defatted broth.) Set the broth aside.
• Place the reserved turkey fat (or butter) in a medium (2-quart) non-reactive saucepan over medium to medium-high heat. When the fat is hot, gradually whisk in the flour to create a roux. Whisking constantly, cook the roux until it is a pale gold color, about 2 to 3 minutes.
• Measure out 3 cups of the defatted broth. (Should you come up short, use additional poultry stock to make up the difference.) Gradually add the broth to the roux in 1-cup increments, whisking constantly until the gravy is completely smooth and thickened before adding the next increment.
• Once all the liquid has been added, stir in the reserved giblets. Gently boil the gravy until the desired thickness is achieved. (I like to cook mine another 20 to 30 minutes not only to give it body, but also to extract the full flavor of the giblets.) You can accelerate the thickening process by adding a bit of flour or cornstarch mixed with water, but be wary of adding too much starch, as it can make the gravy pasty.
• Add the chopped thyme and season to taste with salt and pepper. Serve immediately or let the gravy cool slightly to thicken even further.
A Port, Mushroom and Onion Variation
• Melt 2 tablespoons unsalted butter in a large non-reactive skillet. Sauté 1 small diced yellow onion over medium heat until it’s softened and lightly browned.
• Add 6 to 8 ounces sliced crimini mushrooms and cook until they have exuded all their moisture, about 10 to 15 minutes. Drain off any excess liquid and fat and set the vegetables aside.
• Deglaze the turkey pan with 1/2 cup tawny port and 1/2 cup poultry stock and proceed as directed above.
• Once the gravy has finished cooking, stir in the reserved onions and mushrooms along with the thyme. For added richness, cool the gravy slightly and whisk in 2 tablespoons sour cream. Season to taste.
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