If you are lucky enough to have family nearby, you will now commence the annual glut of turkey suppers. And, while some Sundays you may want to die (or the culinary equivalent: diet) rather than eat one more baked or boiled starch/fat, do not throw away your leftovers in a reactionary panic.
A day-old turkey supper, requiring no assembly, is eternally welcome come manic Monday. Make up a few extra plates with your leftovers, then tape a bag of Tetley to a tin of milk (assume NOTHING about another human’s basic refrigerator contents), and work off your binge playing the happy game of Ding-dong-ditch-turkey-supper-on-your-doorstep; that old (horse)chestnut.
Surprise Turkey Tea from a friend is antidote to the mounting terror of the early setting sun. Sharing is good. Food is good. Therefore math says that sharing food is gooood. (Say it out loud like a ghost, “gooood.” C’mon, Halloween will soon be lingering on our candycorn breath).
If you do not want to give away your bounty, but would rather stash it like the smart and selfish squirrel, consider storing it in the form of broth. This tactic has the added benefit, if you are the turkey supper preparer, of making clean up easier.
As you are chopping various vegetables for either dressing/stuffing or boiling/roasting, keep all the ends or “butts” aside. If you are a traditional “boiler,” save a nip of the salty pot liquor and throw your erstwhile-compost into it and set it aside.
After supper, peel away any chunks of turkey worth saving for the aforementioned turkey teas and toss the rest of the bone-rich carcass right into the pot. No need to wash that pot between boiling up Jigg’s dinner and making broth. One less pot-wash is at least 7 minutes you can now put towards ass-on-sofa-with-family time.
Fill to a couple inches below the rim with fresh water, bring to a rapid boil, then put the lid on, turn down to as low as the stove top goes and leave ‘er be until morning. This long slow simmer will get all the good out of the bones.
In the morning, bring it up to a boil once again with the lid off for 5-10 minutes, then turn it all off, lid on, and head to work. By the time you are home, it will have cooled down enough to store.
Sieve the broth into old yogurt containers (or whatever plastic clutter is currently ruining the aesthetic of your tupperware drawer), label, and freeze. You can refrigerate it overnight and skim the fat off before freezing if you like. This boiled-over-night broth will be as thick as gelatin and rife with flavour. You have now sucked the very marrow out of your family supper.
