BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

Ah, Thanksgiving weekend…

Four full days of not having the house to myself, which is something to which I have become comfortably accustomed. But I can’t complain too much. After all, I am sharing it with the O-spring and the Evil One, so it’s all good.

Speaking of The Evil One, Thanksgiving weekend is also the time when a hot redhead’s fancy turns to grinding her heel into her poor abused spouse even more than usual. Yes, it marks the beginning of “that season”…

That season? What season? Which season?

Easy… The season where the Evil Redhead chains me to the island in the kitchen and forces me to cook until my fingers bleed and I can barely hold up my head. And even then she comes by and slaps me around with a spatula and forces me to cook some more.

One of the reasons this particular weekend marks the beginning of “that season” is the fact that her supreme redheaded evilness loves turkey. And I mean she LOVES turkey. You know the Adam Sandler Thanksgiving song? Well, he’s got nothing on E K. She thinks turkey is “the bomb”. Hell, she even married one. But seriously… Okay, so that was seriously… But OTHER seriously – E K really and truly loves turkey. Almost as much as corned beef, but that’s a different holiday.

Therefore, when we do the family Thanksgiving with her clan, since I’m usually in charge of a side dish and a pie, I have to fix a small turkey at home so that she has some leftovers, otherwise she mopes around and takes out her frustrations on me even more than usual. And, on the off years, such as this one, when the family spreads across the country visiting other extended family, I have to fix an extra large bird for the three of us. Why? So she has leftovers. Weren’t you listening?

Now, the thing is, even the redhead can only eat just so many turkey sandwiches before she starts getting grumpy, no matter how much she likes it. Therefore, back to where we started this endeavor, she chains me in the kitchen and demands that I concoct ever increasingly delectable dishes using the remainder of the roasted fowl.

From our icebox door - srsly...

As always, Friday is “turn the stripped carcass into stock day.” After that, my kitchen becomes the staging area for intense culinary endeavors designed to satisfy – or at least temporarily quell – the savage redhead.

Therefore, over the next few blog entries I will be sharing recipes straight from my kitchen, some designed to make use of leftover turkey, others concocted merely to save myself from the wrath of the whip-wielding, leather and stiletto-clad redhead.

We will begin with Turkey Chili. Why? Because this year, as it happens, E K announced that she really wanted some turkey chili. And when the redhead says she REALLY WANTS something, well, you know what THAT means. It says so right there on the sign…

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GREAT NORTHERN CANARY CHILI WITH TURKEY

Unlike the name might allude, no canaries were harmed in the preparation of this chili…

INGREDIENTS:

DIRECTIONS:

Prepare beans as directed by soaking at least overnight. I usually go for a 20 to 24 hour soak, rinsing first, and then changing the water twice during the soak. Rinse soaked beans and place in a large crock pot with turkey stock to cover (plus an 1/2 to 1 inch) – add chopped onion, chopped celery, chopped red bell pepper, and chopped green bell pepper. Stir. Set on high and allow to come up to a simmer. Add chopped banana peppers, diced turkey, vinegar, green chilis, chopped jalapeno, chopped chipotle, honey, hot sauce, and dry seasonings. Mix well and allow to simmer until beans are tender and flavors have fully incorporated.

Adjust seasonings to taste – i.e. I am fixing this for the redhead and the offspring, and they don’t like things to be too spicy. Therefore, you might want to increase the amount of cumin, chili powder, hot sauce, jalapeno, and chipotle. I generally doctor mine tableside to bring it up to “heat,” and will even add some finely chopped habanero (courtesy of my dear friend, Celeste Webster, Habanero Babe Supreme)…

Serve with cornbread or blue corn tortilla chips, and a good beer. Given that we are dealing with a white bean chili I prefer a crisp Pilsner or basic Wheat.

Other possible garnishes – Plain yogurt, sour cream, cheese, chopped onions, or sliced avocado.

More to come…

Murv

There are certain rules around our house…

I will meet E K at the door with her drink…

I will have dinner on the table no later than 30 minutes after E K arrives home…

I will spit shine all of EKay’s shoes on a daily basis…

I will do whatever E K tells me to do…

Sense a pattern there? Yeah, me too.  But the consequences for non-compliance with said rules are pretty harsh, so I just live with them. There are some other rules, of course. Most of them involve something I have to do in order to please The Evil One and keep her from taking me downstairs into her “play room” – which reminds me, I’m supposed to hose it down today after I drop her Stryker Saw off at the shop. I just hope she didn’t leave anyone down there. The trash truck doesn’t run for another couple of days yet…

There is, however, a rule that doesn’t directly involve E K… Well, sorta… I mean, the results of the rule compliance directly involve E K – as well as allow me to comply with the other rules of the house… But the actual rule is more along the line of – The Kitchen is MY domain, leave my stuff alone.

Surprisingly, E K generally works within the boundaries of that rule. Largely, I think, because she hates to cook, but likes to eat.

Because of this, it was a great surprise to me when I walked around the corner the other night and found her torturing a houseplant. I know, I know… Whiplash moment there, but trust me, there’s a connection. She was torturing the houseplant with one of my kitchen knives.

You see, we have this yucca plant… We’ve had this plant for something on the order of forever. Seriously. I’m pretty sure we had it when we moved into together. It has been through some serious trials and tribulations – namely countless plant chewing felines. During the summer it lives on our front porch, soaking up the sunshine and Saint Louis humidity, mostly safe from cats with plant fetishes. During that period of months the yucca goes crazy, sort of like it is making up for the rest of the year when it’s in fear for its life. By the time Autumn rolls around, and the first frost is upon us, the yucca looks a little… well… yucky.

And so, the temperature was forecast to plummet the other night, and plummet it did. Before it fell too far though, E K, in all her regalness, invoked her prime directive – that being the rule saying I have to do whatever she says.

“Lackey!” she demanded. “Go bring in the plants.”

Little did I know that in rescuing the yucky yucca from the cold, I was merely delivering it into the hands of a deranged redhead with a topiary affliction. Unfortunately for both of us – the plant and me – she didn’t have her pruning shears handy, so she headed straight for the knife block on the kitchen counter.

Of course, I suppose I should look upon the incident as an opportunity, because I learned something that evening.  Never mention the rules to an evil redhead who is holding a large, serrated bread knife in one hand and the hacked up limb of a defenseless yucca plant in the other.

We have a Ficus too, but it’s a little tougher than the Yucca. I think while she’s at work I’ll go hide my electric knives, otherwise they might end up dulled and it’ll be a little tough carving the turkey at Thanksgiving this year.

More to come…

Murv