Window Treatments, Part 1; or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Just buy Fabric by the Bolt!

Welcome to the first of my two part series on my first home DIY!  The first (of many, I’m sure) house project is done!  We now have bedroom curtains!  And it is amazing to sleep in the dark instead of basking in the sodium glow of the streetlight that seems to sidle right up to our window the minute it gets dark out.  OK, it’s across the intersection, but still, that’s pretty darn close.

Once we got moderately unpacked, we decided to look at what to put up on the windows.  In the interim, we’d hung a couple sarongs in the bedroom and bathroom windows (very classy!).  We figured it would take us a weekend, maybe, to get curtains or blinds or whatever.  Hahahahaha.  Do you have any idea how many “window treatments” are out there?  And how expensive they are?  When you have almost two dozen windows that need something, it adds up really fast!!  I was shocked, to be honest.  I mean, as an apartment dweller, mini-blinds were always standard issue so I bought decorative IKEA curtains when it suited me (mostly to cover up the eyesore [but free!] mini-blinds…how I hated them).  They make strange snick-ey noises, and aren’t all that awesome about blocking out light.  Plus, they get so gross and dusty.

So buying window treatments is a new thing.  Based on my general dislike of mini-blinds we’d had in apartments, we eliminated those right away, and were left with faux wood blinds (hideous and obviously not wood, at least at my price range), wood blinds (hella spendy, and the white ones look totally fake!), cellular shades (which John hates with a passion, so those are out), vertical shades (see my feelings on mini-blinds and multiply by a factor of 2), roller shades (they always look kinda tacky, plus they tend to have a mind of their own), roman shades (hello, 1970s!), and curtains.  Maybe we’re just picky, or maybe I don’t know how to deploy the window coverings we eliminated, but it started to look like our only option was curtains!

Curtains are nice because I can pull them down and wash them periodically, they can be bright and colorful accents in a room, and (properly lined) they can block out a LOT of light (take that, Streetlight!).  And there are some budget options out there (bonus!), and lots of different styles, from stiff formal to sheer casuals.  So we settled on curtains for the bulk of our windows and went shopping.  We briefly looked at ready-made curtains in places like JC Penney, Target, & IKEA, but I was aghast at how much a ready made curtain panel cost, and how little bang you get for your buck!  I mean, yes, there is a certain amount of material cost, but I can do the maths, and my math says they make a bundle on curtains!  But, we went out and looked at the curtains available, figuring maybe the time/effort saved by not making them ourselves would be worth the extra cost.

It was really when we went out and saw the curtains in person in the wild that I started thinking seriously about making my own.  Now, maybe I don’t have sophisticated home decorating taste, but I found 98% of the curtains we saw rather hideous.  Heavy dark fabrics, ghastly prints, many many shades of beige, and sequins?!?!?  I also wasn’t super impressed by the light-tightness of the linings on supposed blackout curtains (what? you don’t go curtain shopping with a flashlight and a spot light-meter in your purse?).  Some panels weren’t even cut or sewn straight (yes, I take them out of the package before buying them…especially at IKEA).  So, deflated, defeated, and standing, curtainless, in the underbelly of IKEA at 8:30pm one night, we declared drapery independence.

We decided to make our own damn curtains.

There were a couple other factors that went into this decision…

1. I like to sew.  I can’t imagine how daunting and frustrating it would be to make curtains if you didn’t like sewing.
2. I have time to make them.  We aren’t in a huge rush (I mean, we’ve been living in the house for how long completely curtainless?!)
3. I have a good source of inexpensive fabric.  SR Harris is a fabric warehouse just outside the cities that has TONS of fabric for half price, regular coupons, and a huge selection of linings, trims, etc.  It’s a hike out there, but generally very worth it!
4. We honestly didn’t like ANY of the curtains we saw for sale enough to live with them for 2-3 years.
5. I could make exactly what I wanted, tailored to fit my windows perfectly.  What’s not to love!

So yesterday, we headed to SR Harris and bought more fabric than I have ever bought in my life, I’m sure.  12 yards of an orange print for curtains in the living room, 6 yards of a coordinating turquoise print for the bedroom, 8 yards of a grey and white geometric print (yes, I know the link is green…pretend it’s a nice medium grey) that John immediately dubbed “star wars fabric” because it reminds him of thai fighters (not sure on the spelling…clearly I don’t know what he’s actually talking about, because it does not seem star wars-ish to me at all).  And an entire bolt of Roc-lon blackout drapery lining.  Yup.  An. Entire. Bolt.

Pushing a cart out to the car with 4 giant rolls of fabric/lining in it was kinda surreal (and all the fabric bolt-lifting was a pretty good workout, too…I’m kinda sore today!).  But we got everything we needed for just over $300.  As a bonus, I love all the prints, we have some funky colors for those dreary winter grey days, and I will get to make my awesome curtains!

I did get the bedroom curtains made last night, but more on that soon–it’s too much to cram all into one post!

My Life in Boxes

You guys!  This packing business?  It’s for the birds.  The well-organized, capable-of-heavy-lifting, not-sentimentally-attached-to-my-stuff birds, that is.  My lofty dreams of purging piles of unwanted possessions are slowly dribbling away like wax from Icarus’ wings after a solar flare.

And it’s not because I don’t have stuff I could get rid of…no, it’s because I’m pretty lazy, it turns out.  You see, I don’t want to pack.  I just want all my stuff to magically, mystically, somehow end up in my new place.  And for the stuff I don’t need to fall off the truck along the way.  In an ethical and environmentally responsible way, of course.  I didn’t say it was realistic.  Oh no!  And my husband assures me it’s simply not going to happen.  And so, left with the dying embers of a flight of fancy, I consign myself to stuffing my worldly belongings into cardboard conveyances.

The books were easy.  We had help, and let’s face it, books are square.  They stack nicely, neatly, into orderly towers.  The only real danger with books is an oversized box, which runs the very real risk of becoming too hefty to budge.  But this is easily solved by packing in liquor boxes.  And so the books were done.

Knick knacks (of which there were far more than I recollect owning, by the by, went pretty compliantly into nests of New York Times stories and thence into rubbermaid totes (thanks to friends and neighbors who lent/gave up a small army of the totes!).

And now I’m left with the unfortunate task of the rest of it.  The kitchen I expect will go pretty fast…more rubbermaid totes to protect the prized porcelain, and the gadgetry (of which I think there is precious little, but we shall see) will take up gobs of space but travel well.  We shall be resigned to eating off paper plates and plastic forks for a bit, but I think we’ll come through alright.

Then the clothes.  Ah, the clothes.  Here is where some purging really ought to happen.  But I’ve left it for last (because, you know, I’m still wearing several pieces on a bit of rotation) and need to do laundry before I pack.  The solution I’m pursuing here is to pack a suitcase of things to not pack (yes, I know I just said I was packing them) and then pack the things not in the suitcase into boxes.  Essentially living out of a suitcase in my own home.

The appearance of luggage of any sort will, of course, stress out His Royal Highness the Cat, but not nearly as much as his upcoming visit to the Vet, which will include getting up to date on his shots.  A pre-move necessity in case there’s anything lurking in the new space that might cause problems we could have prevented.

It’s not that much left to pack, really.  But it seems daunting with the piles of boxes everywhere and the ever-increasing spaces-where-things-were.  I’m sure I’d much rather be baking or reading or laying about on the couch, but eventually we’ll have to leave our little apartment, and our things won’t be coming with us under their own steam.  I suppose.

We sign the papers Friday next, so until then, au revoir.  When next we meet, I shall be a newly minted homeowner!

Fool-Proof Pie Crust

So. Pie crust. For some reason, people seem to think that pie crust is difficult to make. You read recipes and they have all these different steps: freeze the butter, avoid humidity, procure a marble slab for rolling, sift the flour, don’t sift the flour, let the dough rest, refrigerate the dough overnight, etc. It’s crazy how complicated things get, and it really doesn’t have to be!

The great thing about pastry is that it is dead simple. It is simply flour and fat and a little water. The less you monkey with it, the better, that’s true. Which I take as license to whip out the food processor. It lets you integrate your flour and butter really quickly, which doesn’t give your butter time to warm up, which means you don’t need to let your dough rest in the fridge!

The other reason pie crust is so simple is because it is a numbers game. You need a 2:1 ratio (by weight) of flour to butter. Add a pinch of salt, a pinch of sugar (helps it get that nice golden color, but you can skip it if your pie would be awkward with a sweet undertone…you will definitely be able to tell there’s sugar in the dough), and little bit of cold water, up to about a 1/4 cup for every 8 oz. of flour you use.

The great thing about weighing your ingredients is that a pound is a pound is a pound is a pound. It doesn’t matter if it’s humid, or if you sift your flour or not, or if you can eyeball 4 tablespoons of butter or not; if you go by weight, you always get a predictable result. Simplify your life, use your kitchen scale!

One other key factor is temperature. To get a flaky crust, you need to have little pockets of butter that melt in the dough as it bakes. If your dough gets too warm, the butter becomes too well integrated, and you get a more uniform crust, which translates to less flaky, more cement-like. To keep your butter from being super well integrated, keep it cold, and be a bit lazy about cutting it in.  Coarse crumbs are good enough! Your food processor really is your friend here, because it will cut the butter into tiny, un-uniform bits, and quickly!

So now you have a little background, let’s walk through the process. Like I said, you need a food processor. Can you make pie crust without a food processor? Of course you can! But that requires a little different method, so if you don’t have a food processor (or don’t want to use one), bookmark the page for when you change your mind.

For a single crust pie, in your food processor, combine 8 ounces (by weight, remember) all-purpose flour, a pinch of salt, and a pinch of sugar. Pulse a couple of times to mix well. Add 4 ounces (by weight…yes I’m beating the dead horse, but it’s important) salted butter (cut the butter into chunks before putting it into the food processor–it makes life easier).

Pulse 7 or 8 times (one-second pulses), till butter is “cut in” and resembles coarse pea-sized crumbs.  They do not need to be uniform, and bigger chunks are perfectly fine!.

Add 3-4 tablespoons of cold water as the food processor is running, the dough should start to look damp.

You do NOT want to process it until it forms a ball–your butter will be too well integrated and your crust will be hard as cement, not flaky at all! Your dough should be evenly moistened, and just starting to stick together. If you pinch it, the dough should hold the imprint of your fingers.

See how it looks a bit like wet sand?  That’s the consistency you’re hoping for.  If it’s too dry to hold the imprint of your fingers when you pinch, add a bit more water (by the teaspoon, no more) and pulse a couple more times.  (If, on the other hand, it’s too wet, fix it by incorporating extra flour as you roll it out, don’t try to add flour in the food processor.)

Turn the pastry dough out onto your table and gather it into a ball. Flatten it out with your hands as much as you can, then lift it up and sprinkle your workspace liberally with flour. Roll your pastry out, turning it every so often so it doesn’t stick and gets rolled out evenly.

(Notice the streaks of butter here–that’s a good thing for flakiness!)

Set your pie plate on the rolled out dough and make sure you will have enough dough to cover the bottom and up the sides. Roll the pie crust around your rolling pin and unfurl it into the pie plate. Crimp the edges and cut off any excess dough. If you double the recipe to make a two-crust pie, roll out your top crust and measure that against your pie plate, too!

Then fill the shell with your pie filling and bake as directed for the filling!

And, should you happen to have leftover pastry dough, you can make these!

Just roll out your leftover pastry and cut into thin strips. Pinch three or four strips together at one end, then braid and pinch together at the other end. Brush with egg wash and sprinkle with a little sugar. Bake till golden (doesn’t matter how hot your oven is, just keep an eye on the color!). Serve as cookies.

Fool-proof Pie Crust

• 8 ounces (by weight) all purpose flour
• 4 ounces (by weight) salted butter, cut into several chunks
• pinch of salt
• pinch of sugar
• 3-4 T. cold water

1. Combine flour, salt, and sugar in food processor and pulse to combine.
2. Add butter chunks.  Pulse 7 or 8 times (one-second pulses) to incorporate.  NO MORE than 7 or 8 pulses!
3. Add water and pulse till mixture resembles wet-ish sand and holds an imprint when you pinch it between your fingers.
4. Turn dough/crumbs out onto un-floured surface and gather together into a ball.  Press into a disk with your hands, and begin pressing out into a circle.
5. When you have pressed it as far as you can with your hands, lift the dough and sprinkle flour underneath.  Also sprinkle a little on top, and flour your rolling pin.
6. Roll dough out into a circle big enough to fit your pie plate.  Roll dough around rolling pin and unroll into pie plate.  Press into bottom, make any decorative edging you like, and trim excess.
7. You will likely have enough leftover to roll out again to cut strips for a lattice top.
8. Follow instructions in your pie recipe for baking.

Fresh Pineapple Pie

I found myself in quite a conundrum recently. You see, it’s becoming…spring-like…in Minnesota, and I’ve got a pretty wicked case of spring fever!  While I LOVE winter, right about now I would give someone’s left arm for a bucket of fresh strawberries (not my own arm, of course, I will need both hands to shovel in the fresh berries!).  So yeah.  Spring fever like crazy.

I also volunteered to bring a pie to Sunday dinner this week.  I have been craving pie lately (fresh strawberry pie, in point of fact…) and I figured that by late March, I should be able to find a couple pounds of acceptable strawberries in the local markets.  Wrong-o.  I found strawberries, but they were ridiculously expensive and smelled like ping pong balls.  I was crushed.  I literally wandered around the co-op for 20 minutes, inconsolable.  Listless.

And then I wandered past the pineapple.  They smelled like pineapples.  I suppose that’s not so surprising, but considering how disappointing the strawberries were, it seemed like a christmas miracle.  Except it’s easter.  Well, you get the picture.  So I brought one home with me.  I figured, pineapple is a fruit, right?  Why can’t it be used for pie?

I turned to the google to find pineapple pie recipes, and was shocked to find bupkus.  The only recipes I could find called for a can of crushed pineapple, a bunch of cornstarch and sugar, and premade pie crust.  Ick.  I prefer a bit more “from scratch” than dumping a can of indiscriminate pineapple into a premade crust.  No luck so far.

But, pineapple being a fruit and all, I was certain I could make a pie from it.  It’s juicy, so I decided to attempt the peach pie approach…peaches are also really juicy, and when I make a peach pie, I use a couple eggs and some tapioca to help the juice gel into a gooey pie filling.  That settled that!

The only thing was, I wasn’t sure how juicy the pineapple would be, so I wanted a pie where I could keep an eye on how the filling was coming along–that meant I needed a lattice crust!  It would let the filling steam quite a bit while cooking (thus reducing the moisture in the filling and helping it gel better!), and it would let me keep a close watch on how “done” the filling was getting as it cooked!

I rolled out a bottom crust (watch for a future post on my pie crust!), then mixed up my filling and dumped it in.

The filling was such a happy, sunny yellow!

I decided that, since I wasn’t sure the pie would really work out, I would at least make it pretty (it is for easter dinner, after all!), so I braided the two center lattice pieces to fancy it up!

Weaving the lattice crust was a bit tricky, but totally worth it!

One thing I did, that I wouldn’t normally do because I’m kinda lazy when it comes to pies, is cover the edges with tinfoil.  The thing about lattice crusts is that the edges tend to cook a lot faster than the center…I don’t know why exactly, but I suspect that it’s because the steam coming off the filling in the center of the pie keeps the crust from browning in the center quite as fast as the crust on the edges.  So for the first 45 minutes of baking, the pie had a little tinfoil hat action going on!

Totally worth it, though!  The pie came out perfectly browned, and a quick sample of the filling (another benefit of a lattice crust–easy access for testing!) proved it was quite tasty, too!  I’m actually quite proud that my whimsical pie turned out so well!  And it’s perfect for a fancy dessert!

And if you want to make a pineapple pie of your very own, here’s how I did it!

Pineapple Pie (makes a 10″ pie)

• pastry for pie shell & lattice crust
• 2 eggs
• 2 T. instant tapioca pearls
• 2 T. flour
• 1/2 c. sugar (more or less to taste, depending on how sweet your pineapple is)
• zest and juice of 1 lemon
• pinch each of cardamom and freshly ground nutmeg
• healthy pinch of salt
• 1 regular-sized pineapple, trimmed, cored, and diced into 1/2″ pieces (you should have about 4 cups of fruit)
• egg wash (1 egg beaten with a little water)
• 1-2 T. butter

1. Roll out pastry and line a 10″ glass pie plate with bottom crust.
2. Combine eggs, tapioca, flour, sugar, lemon zest & juice, spices, and salt.  Whisk with a fork till eggs are beaten and everything is combined.  Pour over pineapple and stir till combined.
3. Pour filling into pie shell and spread around evenly.
4. Lay out lattice crust and brush where it meets the bottom crust with a little egg wash (to seal).  Pinch to seal.
5. Brush lattice pieces with egg wash and sprinkle with a little granulated sugar.  Cut butter into several pieces and dot around the top of the pineapple.
6. Wrap pie crust edges in tinfoil (loosely) and set pie into a 425 degree oven.  Bake for 15 minutes, then lower heat to 350 degrees and continue baking for another 45 minutes.  Remove foil from pie and bake an additional 15-25 minutes, till filling is bubbly and crust is golden.
7. Cool on wire rack.

What’s new? Oh, you know, not much.

So, long time no blog.  Partly because long time, no craft, no knit, no sew, no bake, no nothing!  We decided this spring seemed like a good time to buy a house, and all my spare time (and more energy than I ever thought was possible) has been sucked into the whirling vortex of house hunting.

Mostly it’s fun…looking at other people’s houses and decor?  Having carte blanche to snoop into nooks and crannies and try out all the cabinets and drive by like creepers in the evening to check out the neighborhood?  Totally fun.

Sometimes it’s crazy stressful (like when you discover that the online bank where your earnest money has been sitting earning pitiful .0000000000something% interest considers “overnighting” a cashiers check to you to be a 3-day process).  Or when you’re trying to figure out that magical tipping point between the most house you can afford and the most house you want to afford.  (Yay for budget spreadsheets and amortization schedules, no?).

But since none of it was terribly germane to this blog, I didn’t really post much about it. Decorating the house–that you’ll see lots of.  But for now, probably not so much of interest.

Despite that, I’ve been feeling itchy to blog, so I think I’m going to pop in once a week.  As a first time home-buyer, lots of this is very new to me, and sometimes I just need to brain dump to really process stuff.  Also, I think there is a lot of the process that is needlessly mystified, so on the off chance that my ramblings make someone else’s life easier, I’ll share.

My first soapbox: I don’t think that we, as a society, talk enough about major life decisions (like buying a house!).  It’s almost as if, as an adult, you’re supposed to be capable of handling it all on your own, making really tough, far-reaching decisions with zero experience, and getting a pass/fail grade. It seems so black and white!

Nobody talks about the process of buying a house.  It’s a high-stakes game, it’s super stressful, it’s an emotional roller coaster where, as an added perk of the ride, you get to examine a lot of assumptions you have about what kind of person you are, what you truly need in a living space, what your future might look like, and how much wealth you really can muster.  The answers aren’t always what you thought they’d be!  And that’s OK!  You don’t have to have it all figured out from what your perfect house looks like right on down to how to express your style through decor.  And you don’t have to do it alone.

Even if you are a super capable adult, there’s no way you should have to do it all on your own.  That’s why you hire a team: realtor, finance officer, and house inspector.  And then your wider support network kicks in…friends who have been there, done that.  Family and friends and coworkers who can tell you way more than you may want to hear about house repairs and how to keep the house “alive” and in good health (it’s sort of like getting a giant pet you’ve only ever seen from afar…it requires proper care and feeding, and the fact sheet at the pet shop really only scratches the surface).

Obviously you don’t need to share everything with everyone.  Nothing is public information unless you want it to be.  But I’ve found that sharing where you’re at in the process and how you’re feeling about it tend to elicit great feedback from people who have either been in your same shoes, or who have a bit more emotional distance and can tell you that you’re over- or under-thinking things!

Anyhow, that’s my impression.  More discussion is rarely a bad thing.  I’ve learned a lot from the process so far, and most of it has been from talking with other people and sharing where we’re at with our process.  Not googling and reading articles.

So anyhow, that’s what I’ve been up to lately.  In just the few short weeks, we’ve gone from house hunting to putting in an offer, and having an inspection.  Right now we’re trying to figure out where to go from here (the inspection was mostly good, but it’s a 103-year-old house, so it has a few issues).  I know we have to do a bit of hardball negotiating soon, which is not my strong suit…but we’ll get through it!  And then we’ll have a house to decorate, and hopefully the blog will get a bit more love than it has lately!

Winter Wonderland!

Apparently my “holiday spirit” is entirely controlled by the weather.

Last year, we had no snow, no cold, no holiday spirit.  A friend of mine actually put up my holiday tree for me (and then it took me three months to get it taken down again…oops!).  I promise I’m not lazy (well, I am, but that wasn’t the reason).  It’s just…well…how can you celebrate winter solstice and new years with last year’s dead brown grass still poking up everywhere?

But this year…ah, I am just about to catch the bus home from work for the day, and all day I’ve been dreaming about putting up my tree, hauling out the sparkly garlands and popcorn and thread, whipping up hot cocoa and Tom & Jerry batter, and generally bedecking every hall I encounter.  And why, you might ask?  What spurred this on?  Well, this:

Yesterday it snowed all day.  Like 14 inches of accumulation, dig the car out twice, tromp around in the charming wonder of it all: SNOWED.  I was supposed to be knitting (I have one last holiday gift that isn’t quite done and really should be shipped any day now), but I couldn’t resist, I had to go out and play in the snow.  It was grand.  And today I’m totally on the holiday spirit bandwagon!  How can you not be, surrounded by all this?!

Fuss-Free Birds

I’m going to let you in on a little secret: the best time to cook a turkey is any day that isn’t a major holiday.  Yup, I said it…cooking a bird for a holiday is for the birds, and you know why?  They’re a fuss!  And people expect all these side dishes and desserts and whatnot to go with them.  Way too much work.  If “Turkey Day” were up to me, we’d all have some very nice sandwiches, enjoy an array of pickles, hang out with friends and family, and call it good.  (Which may be why Thanksgiving is never left to me…)

Anyhow. I’m cooking a turkey today (yes, it is indeed a rather nondescript Thursday), and it is going to be awesome.  I got out of work a smidge early to wrangle some packages from Fed Ex (did I mention John got an elk when we went to Montana?  Well, he did, and it arrived today, still frozen and mostly in sausage and burger form!)  So to make room for the impending influx of elky goodness, I thawed the last turkey in my freezer this week, and today I’m roasting it.

Out of sheer curiosity, I googled “how to roast a turkey,” and I have to say, there are some arcane methods out there.  Brine it, spice it, butterfly it, wrap it up in a plastic bag (OK, people who cook turkeys in plastic bags, I ask you: what about the gravy!?!! how do you get any browned bits to make gravy out of if you ensconce your bird in a plastic shroud?!), thaw in a bucket, thaw in a fridge, pin the wings, truss the legs, on and on and on.  No wonder NPR has a “don’t panic, you will survive your turkey” program airing every Thanksgiving.  You’d think this was difficult, complicated even!

I promise you, it is not.  The thing is, a turkey is just a really big bird.  If roasting a chicken doesn’t make you hyperventilate, neither should roasting a turkey (and if roasting a chicken sounds intimidating, well, it’s not!…try it sometime when you don’t have a lot of pressure riding on the outcome).  It doesn’t even take a ton of equipment.  That giant roaster pan you have taking up a bazillion cubic feet of storage somewhere?  Completely unnecessary.  (Not that you shouldn’t use it if you have it, I mean, you are storing the thing the other 364 days of the year, but you really don’t need one to successfully roast a turkey).  All you need is a half sheet pan (a jellyroll pan would do in a pinch) and rack that fits inside it.

The key thing is that you have a pan with edges to trap the drippings, and that the turkey fits on the rack and doesn’t hang over the side of the pan.  Seriously, that’s it.

To prep the bird, thaw it however you like…my preferred method is in a 5-gallon bucket full of very cold water.  Leave it in there for 24 hours max.  Smaller birds will be thawed after 12 hours or so, bigger ones take longer  Change the water around the 12-hour mark, using very cold water again.  I set the whole works in the bathtub to keep it out from under foot.

Once thawed, pull any loose bits out of the body cavity.  These can include a gravy bag (toss it, you are totally capable of making proper gravy that isn’t 90% salt), giblets, neck, pope’s nose, etc.  I don’t use these, but you can use them to make dressing if you want.  I find it to be a bit too much hassle, but your bird = your call!  Once you have everything out of the cavity, rinse the bird inside and out.

Now this next bit is a really important step, because if you fail to do this, your bird will not turn the lovely caramel golden brown we all know and love, it will remain pasty and anemic even after hours in the oven.  So, to prevent that travesty, pat the bird dry.  EVERYWHERE.  Yes, in the crevices between the wings and the breast.  Yes, even in the folds of skin around the neck.  Every drop of water you can remove before you roast it is one less drop that has to evaporate in your oven.  Less time evaporating extra water = more time browning.  Once your bird is dry, set it on the rack in your sheet pan, breast-side up.

Next you season the bird.  This is easy.  First, remove all jewelry from your hands: rings, bracelet, whatever you don’t want covered in turkey goo or potentially lost somewhere therein (trust me, you do not want to go fishing for your wedding band in the depths of a turkey).  Then dump a couple tablespoons dried Herbes de Provence (rosemary, thyme, sage, and tarragon, usually) into a small bowl.  Add enough olive oil to make a loose paste, then stir in about a tablespoon of good Dijon mustard, a couple minced cloves of garlic, and a bit of salt and pepper.  Stir.  You should have about 1/3 cup or so of this mixture.

Now here’s the icky part…you need to put some of this mixture under the skin of the turkey breast.  So first, find the edge of the skin at the back of the breast.

Basically, you wriggle your fingers around under the skin (careful not to break through the skin) until you are wearing a turkey mitten (of sorts)…it’ll take you a while, just go slowly (and if your bird has a popup timer in the breast, take it out…you can put it back in later if you want, but right now it’s just in your way).  You should be able to get your hand all the way up and over the breast under the skin.

Still with me?  Good!  Now take about half the herb mixture you whipped up and smear it all over under the skin.

This will help keep your breast meat moist, and will give it tons of flavor.  Smear the rest of the mixture over the outside of the bird.  Viola!  Seasoned!

One last step before you pop the bird into the oven: tuck the wings.  I don’t know if it is just universally assumed that everyone knows what “tuck the wings” really means, but I didn’t get that particular memo, so it took me a really long time to figure out how to do it so they don’t untuck themselves while cooking.  Basically, you stretch the wing out and wrap the point of the wing (let’s call it the wrist) behind where the neck used to be, behind the rest of the wing, and down along the back.

So your turkey looks like he’s laying there with his arms behind his head (yeah, that’s now missing, but bear with me!) staring up at the sky spotting animal shapes in the clouds.  This keeps the wings from burning as you roast, which is great if you like the wings as much as I do and are as sad as I am when they’re overdone!

Now you’re ready: pop that sucker into a 500 degree oven for 30 minutes.

Yes, 500 degrees.  Basically this cooks the outermost surfaces very quickly and seals all the juicy flavor inside.  Once the 30 minutes have passed, lower the temp to 350 and roast another 90 minutes or so.  Here’s my bird after the first 30 minutes…so pretty!!!

Make sure you rotate your sheet pan once during the cooking time (since most ovens are hotter at the back than at the front, if you don’t rotate the bird, the side in the back cooks faster.  And we want an evenly roasted bird!  So turn it!).  As you do this (and when you take the pan out of the oven later), be careful not to splash yourself with the drippings or tilt the pan and accidentally pour them all over your hands…third degree burns are not on the menu here!

When the bird is done, it will register 165 degrees on a meat thermometer (yes, it is truly done at a little higher temp, but if you take it out at 165, it will finish cooking on your counter while it rests, and won’t be overdone!).  Once you hit 165 degrees, pull it out of the oven and carefully–it’s HOT!–set the bird on a large cutting board or platter to rest.  Cover it with foil (or up-end a large mixing bowl over it…you want to keep it warm!).

Now for the best part…now we make the gravy!  Carefully remove the rack and pour the drippings out of the roasting pan and into a saucepan (a pan with a good amount of surface area works best).  Set the roasting pan on a solid surface and deglaze with a bit of white wine (just pour it in and start scraping up all the brown bits, pouring them into the saucepan every so often till your pan is pretty much cleaned out).  In a liquid measuring cup, combine a couple tablespoons of flour with 1/2 cup water; mix well so there are no lumps.  Heat the saucepan over a medium-low flame and whisk in flour mixture.  You can add a bit more wine or water if needed, but cook for 7-8 minutes (it will come to a low simmer), stirring frequently, till thickened and no longer “floury” tasting.  Season to taste with salt and pepper.

And that’s it.  Really.  Wasn’t too hard, right?  Maybe not a weeknight endeavor (unless you get off work super early like I did!), but definitely do-able on a weekend.  And the leftovers go so far! From this turkey, I expect to have sandwiches, soup, a turkey tamale pie, and I’ll probably make a batch of turkey stock concentrate using the carcass.  One afternoon’s worth of work (which, realistically, wasn’t that much work!), some cleanup, and I’m done cooking for at least a week!

Have you ever cooked a turkey?  Do you do it differently?

Oh, Black Friday

Every year, Black Friday (the shopping day, not the stock market crash day, though the two do share a certain panicky nostalgia in the American consciousness, I guess) makes me incredibly cranky.  Who decided that it was truth, justice, and the American way to turn the day after, nay, the week surrounding, Thanksgiving into some hallowed consumerist free-for-all?  I dunno, but you, sir (or madam…whoever you are), deserve a swift kick in the shin.

I will not be shopping on Friday, anywhere.  I refuse to participate in the charade.  I won’t be part of the crowd that expects those who work retail, food service, and other supporting roles, etc. to work insanely early and long hours in dangerous conditions (just you try getting between a consumer and her deal), for little pay and less thanks.  I find it hypocritical and inconsiderate, to say the least.

I also will never be partaking in “Why Wait Wednesday”, “Small Business Saturday” (sponsored by a huge business who makes BANK on every swipe of their cards…isn’t that rich!?  I’ll support small businesses everyday, in cash, thankyouverymuch), or “Cyber Monday”.  I’m surprised no-one has coined “Spend More Sunday” yet.  Sheesh, people.  You couldn’t pay me to shop between now and mid-January.  I will buy the essentials, continue to support the local businesses that provide services I need, and you know, not act insane.

I understand not everyone agrees with me, and that’s fine (I’d love to say I will not judge those who disagree, but this is a very dear issue to me, so, yes, I will judge, despite my best efforts…I’m not perfect).  In any case, I will vote with my dollars by not spending any.  I’ll do something productive this weekend.  Make someone smile, burn a little creative energy, hang out with friends and family.

What’s your take on Black Friday? 

Gone Fishin’

Guess what?!  I’ve been on vacation/visiting family for most of the last two weeks in Montana, and I just got back yesterday.  So, eventually I’ll post some pics and whatnot, and the blog will get back to its regularly-scheduled-but-sometimes-erratic self soon enough…

But for now, my life consists of unpacking and laundry and convincing my cat that we did not, in fact, utterly abandon him (none of which are exciting enough to blog about!).

Catch you later this week!

Pot Roast of Epic Awesomeness, or

Pot Roast meets Boeuf Bourguignon and happily drowns in Ommegang’s Art of Darkness.

Is there anything better than a pot roast on a chilly fall day? I think not. (Or if there is, you need to send it to me, stat!) I was never a huge fan of potroast growing up (I believe I went so far as to call it “peasant food” at one point, which earned me a supper-less early bedtime…but, um, ahem, I’m sure I had my good points as a teenager, too!)

But these days, a good potroast is a luxury treat! (Though come to think of it, I’d still call it “peasant food”…but sans negative connotations). Pot roast means I have a choice chunk of meat (usually a nicely marbled chuck roast), a plethora of root vegetables (hello parsnips, carrots, turnip, and spuds!), a mess of mushrooms and onions, some tasty braising liquid, and 2-3 hours to laze around the house drinking the leftover tasty braising liquid as the potroasty perfume builds with very little interference from moi. Heaven.

And while I really do enjoy pot roast, I have a deep and abiding love for Boeuf Bourguignon. A la Julia Child, of course. Something you start with lardons just can’t go wrong, right? But making proper boeuf bourguignon is a giant pain in the ass. Not to mention, it looks like a dervish tore through the kitchen when I’m done, and all my pots and pans are dirty. Tasty, but so. much. work. But. so. tasty. You see my conundrum?!

Well, I’ve solved the conundrum. I’ve taken all the best bits of boeuf bourguignon and migrated them to the humble pot roast, which also lets me play up the awesome features of that dish! I win!

My culinary mad-scientist tendencies aside, this really did work out for the very best, and I think the beer should get a lot of credit. I used a bottle of Ommegang’s Art of Darkness (a limited edition release, but you could use any good Belgian strong dark ale, or Russian imperial stout or porter and get similar results…you’re looking for a beer with dark fruity plummy notes and hints of chocolate!). The beer gives you some acidity to your braise, and also imparts deep dark delicious flavors that go amazingly well with the caramelization that will happen to your root veggies. And the gravy! Oh, the gravy will make you tapdance around your kitchen in ecstasy.

If you, too, want to create a cross between classic French beef stew and the ease of potroasty awesomeness, give this recipe a try!

Pot Roast with Dark Belgian Ale and Root Veggies

Ingredients

• 4 lb. chuck roast, nicely marbled, no visible gristle
• 2 T. bacon grease (or olive oil or cooking fat of your choice)
• 1 large onion, sliced vertically into eight wedges
• 1/2 lb. baby carrots (or cut up regular carrots…I had a bag of baby ones that needed using!)
• 1 lb. parsnips, cut to same size as carrots
• 1 lb. mushrooms (cut to similar size as carrots, if small enough, just leave whole)
• 1 lb. teeny tiny (i.e. bite sized) yukon or red potatoes (or cut regular potatoes to size)
• 12 oz. GOOD dark beer
• up to 1 c. beef broth (homemade is awesome here!)
• salt, pepper, dried thyme, and dried sage to taste
• 2 T. flour
• 1 c. whole milk
• 1 c. water
• salt & pepper to taste

Directions

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
2. Heat bacon grease in a large dutch oven over medium flame (I use a 6-qt.cast iron dutch oven…be sure you have a lid). Pat roast dry with paper towels on all sides, then brown on all sides (will take about 15 minutes total).
3. Remove meat from pan and set aside. Add vegetables (onion, carrots, snips, & shrooms) and cook for 8 minutes or so, stirring frequently, till softened and slightly browned on the edges. Remove veggies from pan and set aside.
4. Return meat to the pan. Add beer and enough broth to come 2/3 of the way up the side of the meat. Season with salt, pepper, thyme, and sage to taste. Add about 1/3 of the vegetable mixture back around the sides of the roast, cover tightly with lid, and bring to a simmer over high heat.
5. Once simmering, pop the roast in the oven and cook, undisturbed, for 90 minutes.
6. After 90 minutes, add potatoes and remaining veggies to the roasting pan (it’s OK if they cover the meat at this point; they’ll cook down!). Cover and continue cooking for another 30 minutes to an hour, undisturbed.
7. Test meat to make sure it’s done before removing from the oven. Once meat is cooked to your liking, carefully remove meat and veggies from the roasting pan, leaving as much of the juices as you possibly can in the pan. Tent meat & veggies with foil and keep warm.
8. Set roasting pan back on the stovetop and bring juices to a slow simmer over low flame. Remember that your pan just came out of a 350 degree oven…it’s HOT!!  Use potholders!!  Whisk flour into a couple tablespoons of milk (to eliminate lumps!), then mix with remaining milk and water. Whisk milk mixture into simmering drippings and cook, stirring CONSTANTLY till thickened and no longer floury-tasting, about 8-10 minutes. Season gravy with salt and pepper to taste.
9. To serve, slice roast with a serrated knife and serve along with a generous pile o’ veggies and a lovely dollop of gravy.

This hybrid pot roast pairs well with a good dark beer (and knitting!)…

What’s the best thing you’ve ever cooked with beer?