By Diep Tran, LA Weekly
To walk through the farmers market in the weeks before a feasting holiday is to be caught in a migration route. Shoppers swarm stalls to inspect squashes, tubers, and legumes. These funny birds, compelled not north- or southward, but homeward, periodically cause bottlenecks by stopping in the middle of thoroughfares to bury their noses in shopping lists and consult recipes like flight patterns to the idealized communal table of roast turkey, gravy, mashed potatoes, dressing, green bean casserole, candied yams and pie.
Turkey porridge. Photo by Diep Tran.
If home this year is your dwelling in particular, then a hungry brood will soon be flocking to your door. The feeding will start out a frenzy of hands vying for the best pieces of holiday fare, then abate to leisurely, and eventually indifferent, returns to the buffet to peck at a few more mouthfuls of butter, cream, starch, and bird. By the end of it all, the apartment will be littered with empty plates and supine bodies.
After such a meal, a little corrective might be in order and a turkey porridge is a great antacid for the surfeit of food and company.
When the last dinner guest has refused the last extra helping of turkey, potatoes, and dressing, take the remains of the carcass, the bones and the few bits of flesh still clinging on; any gelatinous jus collected on the serving platter; scraps of lacquered skin and fat; the liver and maybe a wing no one wanted.
Read the full article by Diep Tran from LA Weekly.
