In the 1700s, the colonies would periodically designate a day of Thanksgiving to celebrate an exceptionally bountiful crop. I took the reverse approach: I celebrated the week of Thanksgiving by actively searching out as much food as possible. A few highlights:
1. Turkey with kim chi and Riesling. For Thanksgiving dinner, my parents invited over two of their grad students, Jessica and Peng Peng. Both invitations came with conditions. Jessica is Korean, so our caveat was that she had to bring her mom's homemade kim chi. Peng Peng moved to America from China only two months ago, and he'd never had turkey. He was allowed to the table as long as he wasn't expecting any Peking Duck. It was time to try the New World bird.
There may be great Chinese food in Turkey, but they don't eat turkey in China. As we loaded our plates with food, Peng Peng and I speculated why.
"It's too big. Chinese people like their birds to be small" was Peng Peng's theory.
My theory is that the Chinese are way too productive as a society to permit turkey coma.
I asked Peng Peng if he was going with white meat or dark. He nodded thoughtfully.
We started eating and Jessica covered her mouth and laughed with disbelief as we tried to scoop the kim chi with crackers. Only white Americans could mess up something as good as kim chi. Jessica may be scheming right now to invite my parents over for french fries served with soy sauce and chopsticks.
Kim chi's bid to become the new cranberry sauce fell far short. Whereas cranberries complement the taste of turkey, kim chi dominates it. That might be fine for a cold cut sandwich, but turkey that's been slow-cooked all day wrapped in its own moisture needs to be enjoyed with minimal distractions.
We almost experimented with one other unusual sauce. When someone told Peng Peng that Riesling goes well with turkey, he misunderstood that advice and actually began pouring the wine bottle directly onto his plate. Despite that misstep, he said he was very pleased with his first turkey adventure. In return, he's promised to lead me and Marcy on an exotic food tour of China.
2. Cheese Terrine
Our friend Sarah is an aspiring cheesemaker, and I stole her recipe for cheese terrine as my contribution to our Thanksgiving dinner:
1. Line either a small loaf pan or a medium/small bowl with saran wrap - leaving some of the wrap hanging over the edge.
2. Place 12 oz. of sharp white cheddar (grated), 4 oz. of gruyere (grated), about 2 Tbsp. dry Sherry, and 4 Tbsp unsalted butter in a bowl [or any combination of your favorite white cheeses]. Using an electric mixer, beat until it is blended and smooth (spreadable).
3. Place 8 oz. of blue cheese (Stilton or any other blue cheese, or combination) and 2 Tbsp butter in a bowl. I added a splash of creme fraiche as well - but I don't think this is necessary, I just had it left over from something else:) Blend until smooth (spreadable).
4. Mix 1 cup of chopped walnuts, dried cherries (3 Tbsp or amount to your liking), and about 1 Tbsp of chopped sage.
5. Spoon half the white cheese mixture into your prepared dish (lined wiht saran wrap) and spread it into an even layer - I found it best to press it down with my fingers in order to fill in all the gaps. Spoon half your blue cheese mixture on top - again, pressing it smooth. Sprinkle your nut, cherry, sage mixture. Top with the remainder of your blue cheese mixture and finish with the remainder of your white cheese mixture.
6. Cover with saran wrap and chill for 4 hours or so.
7. Set terrine out at room temperature for about an hour so that it can be removed from the dish.
8. Garnish with sage sprigs. Serve with pear and/or apple slices and water crackers.
The cherry-cheese combination is usually only found in desserts, although I do need to try this recipe for cherry-cheese pizza.
For a dinner that was mostly attended by health nuts, the terrine was suprisingly well received. On the downside, a number of diets met premature deaths at the hands of this excellent dish. Moments after announcing his new weight-watching regimen, our friend Steve was seen digging a tunnel with his mouth through the mixture of full-fat cheeses and creme fraiche. Merely by existing the terrine caused a handful Republican Senators to sign Obama's health care bill.
3. Tyranny of the pleasant personality at Chappy's on Church
Chappy's on Church is like a friend who doesn't do you any favors, but is so likeable that you keep him around anyway.
The food at this place is unremarkable. The turtle soup au sherry is advertised as a Creole favorite, so Creoles must favor mysteries because I couldn't figure out where the turtle went. Typically for this soup, you chop up the subtle-tasting turtle into thick pieces, but Chappy purees it into oblivion. The result is a mildly sweet soup that required some vigorous shakes of Chappy's special hot sauce. This combined with the equally uninspired thick cut prime rib made me think the name of this restaurant would be more accurate with an "r."
Chappy's Special of the Night: Pork Chop, Sausage, and Sirloin
But Chappy's has some charming tricks up its oven mitt. Kingston and Crowley, the live band that performs on weekends, plays a pleasant, folksly derivation of Cajun music that doesn't involve the fiddle, a big plus in my book. Plus Chappy's scores sympathy points: it used to be one of the premiere restaurants on the Mississippi Gulf Coast before Hurricane Katrina demolished it, forcing them to relocate to Nashville in 2006. As if that wasn't enough, our waiter was this slow southern guy who made you want to pat him on the head like John Gruden.
Like some charming people I know, the restaurant's charisma relies on a few affectations: the bar looks straight out of a French Quarter saloon, but Chappy actually had it shipped from Germany. And, although the staff seem like Biloxians, only the sous chef worked at the original location. Nevertheless, as with charming people, these affectations are quickly forgiven, as my parents can attest - they plan to become regulars.
4. Pork belly pizza at City House.
The concept of City House is fresh, local ingredients cooked by chefs who favor a simple skillet on the stove instead of sous vide. Marcy and I thought it compared to Woodberry Kitchen, the James Beard nominated New American restaurant in Baltimore.
Pictures below. Most memorable was the pizza with house made belly ham, grana padano, chilies, anchovies, and egg yolk drizzled over the top.
Springer Mountain Half Chicken, Concord Grape Mosto
House Made Sausage, Cabbage, Cannellini Beans, Horseradish
Carolina Trout, Bread Crumbs, Peanuts, Raisins, Lemon, Parsley Stuffing
