Soups On!

Thanksgiving is hands down my favorite holiday not only because it's an entire day dedicated to eating enormous quantities of special foods, but because it also results in the most premium leftovers. I am, somewhat shamefully, a leftover person. Food always tastes best eaten from a tupperware container or cardboard box, standing in front of an open refrigerator. Even bad pizza is good when it's eaten cold. Many an old housemate (and current lover) has cursed my name while searching for their coveted leftovers that I happened to find first. I publicly apologize to all of you.

If you play your cards right, you can end up with a leftover jackpot on Thanksgiving. But it's important that you not only start out with too much food for your group, but supply plenty of wine and try to invite small eaters. This year my friend Heather and I made a joint-hosting effort, so we split our leftovers 50-50, which gave us ample supplies of brussels sprouts, stuffing, mashed and sweet potatoes, and gravy. We never did get to dessert this year, so in exchange for an entire apple-pear pie, the turkey carcass came home with me. After 2 solid days of enjoying cold vegetables and slices of turkey slathered in best foods mayonnaise (I can never remember to buy bread at the store), it was time to do something with the remainder of the bird.

In years past, I have turned leftovers into turkey pot pie, turkey enchiladas, and a very inventive 'thanksgiving casserole' in which every single leftover is layered in a baking dish, smothered in gravy and covered with mashed potatoes, and baked. But this year I wanted soup. Our free-range organic turkey served us well on Thanksgiving and I felt compelled to utilize every last once of flavor it was willing to yield. As I discovered, it still had a lot to give.

I began by picking off the last bits of meat from the bird, around 1 1/2 cups, and setting that aside. To cook with the carcass I gathered
1 onion, quartered
2 celery stalks, chopped, or a chopped celery heart
2 carrots, chopped
the green top of a leek (base used in soup)
1 clove of garlic
any fresh herbs sitting around (sage, thyme, rosemary, etc...)
2 bay leaves
shiitake mushroom stems (tops used in soup)
a few peppercorns
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But before I was ready to fire up the stock, I decided to give it a little extra help by sautéing a couple of teaspoons of tomato paste in oil at the bottom of my stock pot. Caramelizing the tomato adds a little sugar, a little acidity, and a little char that would stand in for the 'deep roasted' flavor I would get if I started with a whole bird and roasted it. You want to saute the tomato paste until it darkens and the consistency breaks up. It's ok if there are a few black bits on the bottom of your pot, but be careful not to let the whole thing burn, or the whole thing will taste burnt. Place the rest of your ingredients in the pot, add a little white wine or dry vermouth if you have some (I didn't, so I didn't, but I would if I could) and fill the pot with water until all the ingredients are just covered. Set the pot on medium high heat, cover half-way, and let it come to a low boil. A lovely 'scum' will rise to the surface--this is all the marrow and other goodness expunging its flavor and rendering itself obsolete. Use a ladle to remove the scum as it forms. If your hands are steady, you might try ladling some of the pools of fat that collect on the surface once the scum has cleared. Continue to let the stock cook for another hour or so, until its reduced by a couple of inches, and then strain the stock. If this is your project of the day, take the time to let the stock chill in the fridge so you can remove the rest of the fat from the top. If dinner is in an hour, just do your best to skim the fat with your ladle and accept that the first few spoonfuls of soup will be a little extra unctuous.

While my stock chilled, I prepared the soup fixins'. When you're making a soup that involves not only meat but also pasta, I think it's best to keep the amount of vegetables conservative. I love cabbage and beans and root veggies, but they're not necessary here. However, I couldn't resist the draw of shiitake mushrooms, further fortifying the soup with a earthy backbone. Here I have prepared our mushrooms, leeks, celery and carrots. In the left corner is some smoked prosciutto, or speck, which has been a very useful secret ingredient for me lately. I have a chunk vacuum sealed in the fridge, and everytime I want to give a dish a certain je ne sais quoi, some finely diced speck brings everything together. In small amounts, it's neither too smoky or salty, just perfect. So, to pull it all together, slowly saute your leeks in some olive or vegetable oil. Add the optional speck (prosciutto or pancetta would both work well here, too, just keep the dice as small as possible), and then the mushrooms. Saute slowly until both the leeks and mushrooms are soft. Add the celery and carrots, diced leftover turkey, and your reserved stock. I cook this until the carrots are becoming tender, and then turn the heat off while I make the pasta.
Yes, you heard correctly, make the pasta. I half-ass a lot in life, but turkey noodle soup must be taken seriously.
And I wanted the seriousness of real egg noodles in my soup. And believe it or not, making egg pasta is pretty easy.
1 cup flour, placed on a work surface (preferably wood). Make a well in the center which will hold one egg.
This is always the biggest challenge for me, making the hole big enough for my egg (no jokes, please)...with a fork, gently beat the egg and incorporate flour, a little bit at a time, until you have this goopy stringy flour mass. When the fork has done all the work it can do, it's time to use your hands. Gather the mess and begin working it, to the best of your ability, until it begins to take on the qualities of dough. Resist the urge to add more liquid, unless it's really not coming together at all, and then add water by the teaspoon. You will eventually start to knead it on the board, pressing the ball of your palm into the dough, folding it over itself, and pressing again. Do this for 10 minutes. You'll be surprised, after minute 4, how relaxing minutes 5-9.5 can be. It's a good exercise to counter the keyboard jockeying you do all day. At the end of minute 10, you will have a stiff, straw-colored ball. It should be smooth, not sticky and not shaggy. Wrap this and let it rest for 10-30 minutes.

For soup noodles, you don't need a pasta machine to roll out your dough. If you have one, use it if you feel like it. I would have preferred to hand-roll the pasta but I left my rolling pin at work, so I didn't have a choice. A wine bottle is a last resort, only because you're going to kill your wrists rolling out dough this stiff. I made 'fettuccini' noodles and cut them short. You also want your noodles to be on the thicker side so that they will have some tooth and hold up if you feel like keeping the soup around for a day or two.
Bringing the soup back to a rolling boil, I tossed in the noodles and let them cook for around a minute or two. Remember, they're thicker than the fresh pasta you might be used to cooking, but it's easy to overcook any fresh pasta, and it will also finish cooking (and absorbing the soup, so make sure you're adding plenty of stock) as it sits. At this point, taste for salt, and add some fresh pepper. You don't need to finish it with anything but some fresh parsley. And voila! I don't mean to brag, but this was the richest, most fragrant, turkeyist turkey noodle soup I've ever eaten, and a really great way to spend a Sunday afternoon.