Thanksgiving

It was Thanksgiving recently, and even though I had a lovely day of turkey and games with friends, I couldn't help but be overwhelmed with thoughts of last year's extremely successful Chilean Thanksgiving bash. It took 2 weeks of planning and a collective effort, but we pulled it off fabulously and ended up being the best Thanksgiving I've ever had.

Meet Joseph Gobbles; star guest at dinner and WWII pun. He was a beautiful specimen, weighing in at 15 pounds.

Adding my own twist to my father's recipe, the turkey was marinated in coca-cola and beer for two days (giving it enough time to thaw, and simultaneously absorb the sweetness and savoriness of the soda and beer).

On the big day, I rubbed the turkey, inside and out, in a mixture of olive oil, diced garlic, salt, pepper and basil, and then stuffed it with rice, shredded carrots, onions and cilantro. Colorful + Fragrant = Excess Salivation.

One of the more controversial choices, at least among my Gringo friends, was when I decided to inject the turkey with a fresh batch of coca-cola and beer. Yes, inject; not baste. It wasn't a gallon's worth or anything, but it's something my dad taught me. The idea is to inject the mixture into the limbs and breast of the turkey, so that as it cooks, the heat will cause it to seep out and act as a self-basting mechanism. People had their doubts, but....

Voila!

The skin had caramelized and was nice and crispy, and the turkey was described by many as the juiciest they'd ever had. I don't mean to toot my own horn, but this was definitely the best turkey I've ever eaten. I'm sure the feeling of success had some influence on my taste buds, but I honestly believe this turkey was fantastic. The comments made by my friends helped confirm that :)

Fabulous as it was, the turkey was only half the battle. Nick was very excited about having a Thanksgiving dinner (his first in about 3 years) and was gracious enough to let us host our little event at his home. Being that he is an amazing cook, he made some awesome candied yams, super creamy, home-made Mac-n-Cheese and his family's Broccoli casserole. Needless to say, we ravaged that table.

The final touches of the meal came in the form of cranberry sauce and gravy. The gravy was easy and quick, and even though it wasn't the greatest gravy ever made or tasted, it was well enjoyed. Andre, on the other hand, had absolutely demanded to have the Ocean Spray canned cranberry sauce / gel that is served at most American homes during the holidays. I obliged him with his request, but also did my own play on Cranberry sauce.

A co-worker gave me a recipe for a more modern and tasty way to serve cranberry sauce. Basically, buy the can of chunky Cranberry sauce (as opposed to the one which is just gel), dump it in a pot and set it on the stove at low heat. Then, add some sort of berry that will act as a good contrast to the Cranberry; I used whole blueberries, but strawberries work too. Add rum or cognac, honey and cinnamon (all to taste) and then just let it cook until the berries burst. Stir regularly, (you don't want it to burn!), and let it cool before serving.

Sooooo yummy!

Everyone else brought an assortment of pies, ice cream, soda and wine.

In the end, we ate, we gossiped, we hit on each other. It was a wonderfully gay Chilean Thanksgiving, and one I wouldn't change or trade for even the most traditional incarnation of this odd American holiday.