Off topic - Thanksgiving (turkey) related stuff :
November 25, 1998
Some Find It More Pleasant Dining
On Pheasant, Boar or Spaghettios
By JON G. AUERBACH
Staff Reporter of THE WALL STREET JOURNAL
On Thursday in Los Angeles, Jack D. Cannon will dish up all the fixings for
his new girlfriend: stuffing, yams, cranberries. What will be missing is the
turkey.
Mr. Cannon is serving ostrich fillets, instead, with a dash of soy sauce. In
Newton, Mass., Scott McWilliams will slice into a plump Thanksgiving goose.
In Fort Myers, Fla., Linda Dolan, a supermarket clerk who lives alone, plans to
tuck into "a can of Spaghettios." Nationally, People for the Ethical Treatment
of Animals is promoting Tofurkey, a meatless, soy-based (not basted) turkey
alternative.
What's with all these people?
Nearly four centuries after the Pilgrims partook of it at Plymouth, turkey is
topping out as Thanksgiving fare. Statistics confirm the trend, supported by
some gourmets and extolled by purveyors of more-exotic fare.
Things That Make You Go 'Aaahhh'
Turkey is "a dry, bland thing," says Marc Zahra, a butcher in Pocono Lake, Pa.
"It's not something you put in your mouth and go, 'Aaahhh.' "
Turkey "tastes like paper or cardboard," declares Mark L. Bowman, an energy
consultant in Lafayette, Colo. The amateur chef will be serving his
Thanksgiving guests a brace of pheasants stuffed with chestnuts and, as a
fillip, a $65 half-saddle of wild boar. He says that in years past, he would eat
too much turkey (in his futile quest for gustatory satisfaction). Sated, he would
retire to a couch in the den "suffering indigestion" and watching football.
Turkey production in the U.S. is expected to drop by 5% this year, to 5.2
billion pounds, according to the U.S. Department of Agriculture. In the critical
fourth quarter, per capita consumption of the meat is expected to drop to 5.9
pounds from six pounds. Milton Madison, a USDA poultry statistician,
forecasts slight gains for duck and chicken.
Of course, the turkey would be hard to topple from its prominent demographic
perch. The National Turkey Federation estimates that 91% of all Americans
will eat the bird on Thursday -- a figure unchanged in eight years.
But at John Dewar & Co., a fancy Boston butcher, sales of Thanksgiving
turkeys haven't risen in about three years as more customers have opted for
duck, woodcock and squab, among other birds. Florencia Palmaz, co-owner
of GoodHeart Brand Specialty Meats, in San Antonio, says her company has
had "zero requests for turkey this year." Instead, customers are snapping up
capons, quail and pheasant.
And though it might make traditionalists choke on their drumsticks, many
Americans find turkey too dry, too big, or just too boring.
A Very Long Day
It "takes too damn long" to cook, says Clifford Rogers, a retired classics
professor from Sharon, Conn. "You've got to wake up at seven o'clock, start
cooking at nine, and it goes on and on. The whole day is shot." Thursday, Mr.
Rogers and his wife, Marel, will dig into a crown roast of lamb and garlic
potatoes, and wash it down with "four martinis and a glass of wine."
Turkey caught on partly because of the well-documented Pilgrim feast in 1621
where it was on the bill of fare. But animal scientists say turkey really took off
because it could be bred big, with lots of meat. In that were the makings of an
affordable feast.
But producing big birds made for some logistical issues. This year, the average
live turkey tips the scales at 24.7 pounds, which is nine pounds plumper than
was typical 30 years ago. Patricia Hester, professor of animal sciences at
Purdue University, in Indiana, says some male turkeys have reached 70
pounds, about the size of a Labrador retriever. Dr. Hester says that if turkeys
were any heavier, their skeletons might collapse.
On Thanksgiving Day, some cooks feel like collapsing from the weight of their
birds. "You just run out of kitchen space trying to maneuver that thing," says
John Dewar, who owns the Boston meat shop. He insists that it's nearly
impossible to prepare a big turkey without "a couple of strong young boys to
jack it out of the oven."
Dark Meat or Dry?
Then there is the turkey's anatomical imperatives. Dark meat cooks more
slowly than white meat. On a big bird, this can mean that by the time the legs
are cooked, the breast is dry.
Mr. Cannon, the ostrich (red-meat) eater, has childhood memories of
masticating the dry birds his mother prepared year after year. "Cooking was
not her strong point," says Mr. Cannon, a 34-year-old television producer.
Stephanie Chambers and her husband, Steve, started serving exotic birds a few
years back as a way to lure their sons, ages 20 and 23, home for the holidays.
When Ms. Chambers first did away with the turkey dinner, she considered
herself a rebel. "It feels like we were stepping out on new territory, and it was
a little risky."
This year, the couple, who live in Dallas, will be serving quail and duck in a
black-currant sauce with turnips and carrots. "Now we're known as the people
who try weird things," says Ms. Chambers. Maybe so, but her sons haven't
missed a Thanksgiving yet.
A Big, Fat Goose
Mr. McWilliams, a computer specialist, says he usually warns guests ahead of
time that he will be serving goose (all dark meat) instead of turkey. Guests in
years past have worried that goose is too fatty, but Mr. McWilliams allays their
fears by disclosing that he pricks the goose and soaks it in boiling water to let a
lot of the grease ooze out. He adds that "when it comes to that macho point of
carving, there are not as many bones in the way."
Others won't give up on turkey, and nearly every cook has a secret for keeping
the bird moist -- syringes to inject liquids between the skin and meat, or
draping the breast with cheesecloth soaked in butter. Slow cooking at low
temperatures seems to do the trick for some foodies.
Leslie Anne Snyder, an interior designer in Lenox, Mass., cooks her wild
turkey in a pan of water, then fires up a blowtorch, which she uses to brown
the skin. "It's incredible," she says.
Mr. Zahra, the meat seller, is a minimalist, and insists that rubbing a turkey
with extra-virgin olive oil before you pop it in the oven is the only way to keep
it moist. And while that might make the bird less dry, Mr. Zahra doesn't think it
improves the taste. So when the meal is done, Mr. Zahra prepares "CARE
packages" for each of his guests. "I send them all home with leftovers. I hate
it, and I don't want any of it."
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