 Congratulations! Thanksgiving was an enormous success, and all you have to do the next few days is… Find something to do with alllllllll those leftovers. Sure, sure, you can whip up the traditional turkey sandwich and chili, but consider some new options, like:
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 All day, you’ve been looking forward to those pasta leftovers from last night’s glorious meal. But when you open the storage lid…hmm…that delectable dinner looks dry and unappetizing. How can you reheat it and get back to that dreamy feast? Try this:
I catered a graduation party recently, and one of the 20-somethings said to me, “I wish I could cook.” I smiled at him and said, “Do you own a crockpot?” He looked off into space and said, “Um…maybe?” That response always cracks me up, because if you have a crockpot in your kitchen, you know it.
Slow cookers are space hogs of the first degree. They’re oversized round or oval, incredibly heavy (if they have a ceramic or stoneware insert), with a giant glass lid. If you have one in a cabinet, you’ve had to work around it…probably muttering like Fred Flintstone. But man, are they worth the storage hassle! The slow cooker is the workhorse of cookery. (My apologies to the air fryer, the kitchen appliance du jour. I have two of them, so shhhhhh.) The main idea behind the slow cooker is the ease of “setting and forgetting”—i.e., You fill it, start it, and leave it alone ALL DAY. There’s no rushing around after work to throw together dinner. No staring into the fridge or pantry, wondering what could fill your gurgling stomach. Your food is just ready. That idea alone is revolutionary. But add to the set-it-and-forget-it concept the simplicity of crockpot recipes. I own seven slow-cooker recipe books. SEVEN. My favorite by far is Stephanie O’Dea’s 5 Ingredients or Less Slow Cooker Cookbook. I’ve hosted dinner parties with Stephanie’s “King’s Chicken” recipe and one attendee said, “I want to put my whole face in this dinner.” I mean, is there a better compliment than that?? And it was five ingredients, people! I’ve come to the conclusion that I should just carry around a box of crockpot cookbooks to hand to “I-wish-I-could-cook” bemoaners. You can cook…you really can! All you need is a slow cooker, a few recipes, and a grocery list with less than 10 items. So believe it! Then let your crockpot cook it.  I used to say, “If you can read, you can cook.” But that’s not really true, is it? If you’ve never actually seen someone sear a giant roast, how would you figure it out? When a recipe reads, “Mince two cloves of garlic…” could you do it? And how much, really, is a “pinch” of salt? In my 20s—before online search engines answered any question we might have about cooking—I called Mom, Grandma or Aunt Beverly for answers. When I first moved south, I pestered my friends Millie or Betsy. Now, I just shout it into my phone. That’s incredibly convenient and efficient, but I miss those food chats with real people. Real people usually have confessional stories to accompany their answers. Take, for instance, my “town kid” mom who married a farm kid. She knew nothing about meal prep, let alone growing food. When Grandma sent her to the garden to pick some strawberries, she scanned the tidy green rows in anguish, spotting nothing resembling a delicious red fruit. Aunt Marilyn to the rescue! She parted the leaves and—voila! Strawberries! Hiding underneath! Who knew?? It is astonishing how much food knowledge a farm kid gains just by hanging around the fields and gardens. In college, a friend asked me, “Do you ever just walk into the field, rip off some corn, and start eating it?” Sarcastic snort before, “Well I might. If I was a COW.” [awkward pause] “Field corn is not the same as sweet corn.” [crickets] “It’s really dry.” [blinking] “You’ve maybe heard the commercials about corn-fed beef…?” [light bulb moment] The same is true of kids who hang out in the kitchen. You might start out standing on a stool and just stirring, but you soon learn a wooden spoon picks up every flavor, every spice it stirs. So you might not want to mix your baking batter with the same spoon dipped repeatedly in your pot of jambalaya. You don’t remember learning this, but you just know that measuring cups are different for dry vs. liquid ingredients. So you measure flour or nuts by the cup or half-cup, and oil by the ounce. So yes—if you can read, you can cook. BUT…there’s always a learning curve along the way. Just ask the questions. Someone out there will be happy to share the answers. Bonus: You might get a little story out of it. Like that time I had to rescue a salty gravy a nameless friend tried to thicken with baking soda instead of flour…  I’ve always been more of a side-dish fanatic. Even when Wagu steak is the overpriced entree, I go for the fried corn, sautéed green beans, or cauliflower gratin. Fried chicken is a beautiful thing—and I’ve been known to tear into it whilst standing over the kitchen sink—but I can really fill up on the accompanying mashed potatoes, mac & cheese, or cornbread. So when the chow fest known as Thanksgiving rolls around each November, my recipe research goes right to the sides. Mind you, I’m all for most of the traditional dishes (except you: green bean casserole…gag), but my eyes light up when savvy cooks introduce clever cocktails, appetizers or desserts. Anything pumpkin is on overdrive each fall, and in my mind you can’t go wrong with that orange goodness. (Consider the Pumpkin Martini. Yes—Martini! Or Pumpkin Creme Brûlée!) But so are the seasonal spices: cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, cloves. And they work in so many recipes. Breads, dips, desserts, cookies, coffees, even vegetables can all benefit from these spices. Not a fan of anything using pumpkin or seasonal herbs? Then would you consider a charcuterie appetizer at your gathering? Caramel corn? How about a baked side with “au gratin” in the title? I love a tasty and overlooked Waldorf salad: It’s fruit, veggies and nuts, people! Yum. Now, I will draw the line at bringing back the ol’ Jello ring. Remember that molded salad from your childhood? Ours had shaved carrots in it. Yes…carrots. Its time has passed. Except…I just spotted a recipe for a Sangria Ring. Hmm. Creative. But you see what I mean here: There’s a lot of room for creativity to accompany your juicy turkey. Every holiday could benefit from a little stirring up in the kitchen. Do some online investigating. Pour through some old cookbooks. Surprise your guests. Surprise yourself. And who knows? You might just create a new Thanksgiving tradition.
 When I left the farm for college, lo’ these many decades ago, I swore I would never, ever, ever again in my life eat that farm staple: chili. I’m cracking myself up just writing that. I mean, who doesn’t like chili?? Seriously. Area restaurants are renowned for their chili, for Pete’s sake! My only excuse for that rash statement has to be my lack of chili comparisons. At the tender, unsophisticated age of 18, I knew nothing about chili verde (pork, tomatillos, Hatch chilies), or chili con carne (Texas red chilies, stewed beef chunks), or Springfield (IL) chilli (two “l’s, ground beef, canned tomato sauce, Tabasco). I most certainly would never have heard the words “white chili” (poultry, white beans, cheese) even whispered in our farm kitchen. And don’t get me started on the crazy idea of throwing in some pasta in the Cincinnati style. Sacrilege! Yet there I was in a restaurant, in my late-20s, ordering chili. It was an Indiana fall day—leaves changing, temperatures dropping. A co-worker said, “You have to try their chili. It’s killer.” And it just sounded good. It arrived in a heavy bowl, topped with shredded cheese and crackers on the side. I dug in and smiled. It tasted like harvest. It tasted like home. Since then, I’ve been a loyal taster of restaurant chili. Generally, I like the hearty, meaty, Springfield kind. My husband Jimmy makes a delicious Texas variety. I specialize in a—wait for it—very non-farm white chili. It comes together fast and explodes with comforting flavor. I always serve a side of Jiffy-mix cornbread straight from the oven, slathered in butter. Now, I’ve kept my youthful vow of never again eating other farm foods—succotash tops the list, followed closely by ketchup-based meatloaf, liver and onions, and vegetable stew. But savvy cooks and clever recipes have changed my mind about pot roast, scalloped potatoes, pork chops and…chili. Turns out, those farm staples just needed a “tweak”! I hope chili is high on your meal-plan list these days. If it’s not, I encourage you to scan online recipes or take a look at mine on our YouTube channel. Try something simple, something different. Make enough to invite someone over, then turn on a football game and pop open a cold beverage. You really can’t beat a bowl of fall, farm goodness.  The No. 1 response I get from people who are hesitant to host a dinner party is: “I don’t cook as well as you do.” Well…I beg to differ! Almost everyone has a “signature dish”—a one-pot or crockpot or casserole-dish meal they absolutely ROCK. It might be lasagna. It could be chili. Maybe a simple pasta dish or soup or Sunday roast or pot pie. There’s high potential it’s a family recipe passed down through generations, so it doesn’t feel “special” enough for a dinner party. But let me assure you: It is! Most guests are simply delighted to be invited to dinner. They don’t have to cook or clean up afterwards. They’re served in a comfortable setting, under no pressure to plow through their meal so the server can clear the table and seat the next patrons waiting in the lobby. They don’t have to scan the menu to see what they can afford. They don’t have to leave a tip. Doesn’t that sound like a winning scenario?? The No. 2 response I get from people who are hesitant to host is: “I don’t have fancy things.” Well. Do you have a tablecloth or table mats? Do you have everyday dishes? Water glasses? Paper napkins? Do you have enough silverware for everyone? If not, could you borrow some? I’ve done that! And guess what? Most dinner guests are absolutely delighted to contribute to the meal. When they say the magic words—“What can I bring?”—be ready with a little tidbit you know about their cooking skills. Do they make a killer dessert? Suggest that. Do they have good cheese instincts? Good enough to put together a little charcuterie board? Score! Are they bread makers? Dip makers? Deviled-egg makers? Take that opportunity to let them shine! If they’re not particularly handy in the kitchen, do they have an excellent wine collection? They’d probably love to share a bottle or two. See what we did there? We put together a delightful evening with one phone call. It’s really that simple. So go through your worn, tattered recipes and select the one you know is a winner. Then pick up the phone and invite over a lovely person or couple or family today. You won’t regret it. |
Christine SchaubA Michigan farm girl transplanted to the South offering hospitality hacks. Categories
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