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“The heavenly aroma still hung in the house.
But it was gone, all gone! No turkey! No turkey sandwiches! No turkey
salad! No turkey gravy! Turkey hash! Turkey à la king! Or gallons of
turkey soup! Gone, all gone!” — Ralphie Parker, A Christmas Story
When the Bumpuses’ dogs sneaked in and dragged
the turkey off the kitchen table, Ralphie knew they’d stolen much
more than the centerpiece of a holiday meal. A panoply of potential turkey
leftovers had also vanished down those dogs’ gullets. Food-centric periodicals don’t typically devote
much space to leftovers — but turkey is an exception, no doubt
because, well, there’s often a lot left over. Fortunately, cooked turkey, much like cooked chicken,
lends itself well to a many dishes. One of my favorites is curried turkey
salad with dried cranberries, which I developed years ago. Though not made
from leftovers, it was also the main ingredient in my most bizarre catering
episode. It started with a phone call after Thanksgiving.
“Uh, sure, I’m pretty sure I can do that,” I said to the
woman who’d called. Truthfully, I wasn’t sure at all, but
I’d only recently begun catering and didn’t want to turn down a
new client. It would certainly be a creative challenge, although not much
of a moneymaker. I hung up and looked over at my husband, Peter.
“You won’t believe this one,” I said. “This woman
wants a single appetizer for about 30 people. She doesn’t care what
it is. She doesn’t care how much it costs. The only requirement is
that it has to look like a BMW motorcycle.”
The only motorcycles I’d ever really
noticed were ridden by the Hell’s Angels who used to roar into
Springfield for the races on the last day of the Illinois State Fair
— and my attention was given to avoiding them as much as possible. As far as I knew, one motorcycle was pretty much like
any other. Fortunately, Peter set me straight. BWM motorcycles have a
unique design. Unfortunately, he wasn’t much more of a motorcycle
enthusiast than I and couldn’t give me specifics. These days
I’d just Google “BMW motorcycles” and find a picture, but
this was in the Dark Ages before the Internet. It was sheer luck that I told my neighbor about my
predicament — her husband had a BMW motorcycle in their garage.
I’d been in their garage many times but hadn’t seen it: It was
covered up and stashed in a corner because she’d made her husband
promise to stop riding it when their first child was born. It was also lucky that Peter has an art
background, but when we threw off the cover and Peter began sketching, I
realized that my luck had run out. What had I gotten myself into? The
details would be hard enough, but what really concerned me were the large
expanses of black and silver. I’d already decided on the base. The day after
the appetizer gig, I’d be preparing box lunches that included curried
turkey salad sandwiches for a busload of Illini football fans. I could make
more of it, mincing the ingredients instead of chopping them, so that it
would be suitable for spreading on crackers. I’d form it into the
basic shape, then spread it thinly with cream cheese, making a canvas on
which I could create the motorcycle. The colors were the real problem. Black was
relatively easy. I could use black sesame seeds, olives, or even poppy
seeds, but silver isn’t a color usually found in foodstuffs —
at least not things most people want to eat. Moreover, the flavor had to
coordinate with that of the turkey salad. There were two weeks until I had to come up with a
finished product, and I spent much of that time trying to figure out how to
come up with silver food. I thought about it in the middle of the night. I
thought about it when I should have been paying attention to my children. I
thought about it in the shower, the car, in choir rehearsals. I mixed
silver food coloring with cream cheese — disgusting. Salmon skin is a
delicacy in Japan but would probably be a turnoff to many people here; it
wouldn’t go with the curried turkey, either. Ditto anchovies and
sardines. One day I was chopping a red onion, and it hit me. Of
course! Red onions, cooked long enough, turn silvery grey. Using the
biggest red onions I could find, I separated them into large single-layer
pieces, and poached them. The color was perfect. I cut them into
appropriate shapes and made a mockup. At last I had it! The day of the event, I shaped the turkey salad into
a motorcycle outline 2 inches thick. Peter drew in the details with a
toothpick, and I started assembling the mosaic of red onion, sesame seeds,
and a few other things. Hours later, I stood back with a glow of
satisfaction. It really did look like a BMW motorcycle, and it would taste
good, too. But my trial by motorcycle appetizer wasn’t
over. Absorbed in creating my motorcycle masterpiece, I hadn’t paid
any attention to the weather, but now I realized it’d been sleeting
for several hours. Even then I wasn’t too worried, though I
gratefully accepted Peter’s offer to come with me for the delivery. We pulled up to the client’s house and stared,
horrified. It was at the top of a steep incline, the driveway totally
coated with glare ice. I started up the driveway holding the big tray
carefully, Peter supporting me as best he could. It was impossible. There
was more traction on the crunchy ice-covered lawn, but we were still
slipping and sliding. We ended up using a bucket-brigade approach: One of
us would take two steps and stop, then the other would make his way up a
couple of steps higher, take the tray, then the other would move up a few
steps more, and so on. It took us almost a half hour to reach the house. Even if you’re not trying to make it into an
edible motorcycle, this recipe is a delicious way to use turkey leftovers.
Send questions and
comments to Julianne Glatz at realcuisine@insightbb.com.
Curried Turkey And Dried Cranberry Salad 2 cups chopped cooked turkey, smoked or roasted 1/3 cup dried cranberries Vodka or orange liquor such as Grand Marnier in which to marinate the cranberries,
optional 1/2 cup Mayonnaise (Hellman’s is preferred) 1/2 teaspoon curry powder 2 tablespoons minced scallions 1 tablespoon minced pickled jalapeños (more or less to taste), optional 1/2 cup slivered almonds, toasted in a 350-degree oven until lightly browned (about five
minutes)
If you will be using the salad as a spread, mince the
turkey. If you are using it as a sandwich filling, chop it more coarsely.
If desired, microwave the cranberries, tossed with 1 tablespoon of the
vodka or orange-flavored liqueur, covered, for one minute for additional
flavor. Cool to room temperature. Put the cranberries, mayonnaise, curry powder,
scallions, and jalapeños (if you are using them) in a large bowl and
stir to combine. (Curry powders vary widely in their intensity, in both
heat and flavor, so judge accordingly.) Add the chopped turkey and mix
well. If at all possible, the almonds should be added just
before serving.
This article appears in Nov 15-21, 2007.
