Heritage turkeys aren’t your usual holiday birds of a feather

Turkeys wander around at one of Coon Rock Farm's free range areas.
The local sustainable family farm raises lean heritage turkeys for sale
each Thanksgiving. (Photos by Chuck Liddy/The News & Observer)

HILLSBOROUGH-- With their scaly legs and fierce temperaments, lean heritage turkeys appear to have more in common with dinosaurs than their rotund grocery store cousins. And without farmers committed to making these specialty breeds available for holiday tables, they’d just as likely be extinct.

“It’s an interesting concept that we raise these breeds, and kill them, to keep them viable,” says Jamie DeMent of Coon Rock Farm. “Without customers who want to serve them at Thanksgiving, they’d all be gone.”

Before last week, a raucous mix of about 300 specialty birds roamed the sustainable, 55-acre farm, which is tucked into a bend of the Eno River. Their lives were very different from turkeys raised at so-called factory farms, which are kept in tight quarters and fattened up at a rate two to three times faster than those raised outdoors on pasture.

“Most commercial turkeys have gigantic breasts that throw off their balance and make it difficult to get around. It actually prevents Tom and Tina Turkey from natural procreation,” DeMent says, noting that spirited heritage birds enjoy considerable freedom and protein-rich foraging on land shared with cows and pigs. “Our customers want to know that their bird had a happy life. I can’t promise it was happy, but I can guarantee that it was natural and healthy, and its end was humane.”

DeMent and Richard Holcomb, who bought Coon Rock Farm 12 years ago this month, have been raising heritage turkeys for seven years. They started with a few pairs of registered breeds but now save the best from each year’s flock to repopulate the following season’s stock. They grow several types not only to ward against issues that might affect one breed and not others, but also to ensure that they have a range of sizes to meet consumer needs.

“Sometimes there’s just two people at the holiday table but they still want a turkey,” says DeMent, noting that a petite Beltsville White, which resembles a very large chicken, might be ideal. “For those who want a big, meaty bird to feed a crowd, we’ve got them.”

Through a snug plastic bag, DeMent lightly pokes the muscular thigh of a bird that was just processed in the spacious abbatoir located directly across from the front door of her 1870s farm house. “You can tell that bird spent a lot of time walking around here,” she says of the outstretched limb, which might surprise those accustomed to buying a turkey shaped more like a bowling ball. “That’s a lot of meat.”

And it doesn’t come cheap. Like many other small-scale growers, Coon Rock Farm requires a $50 down payment to reserve a bird. Early orders are billed at $9 per pound, with later ones at $10 per pound.

This means that many folks gladly fork over upward of $200 to feed their family and friends – not counting sides. According to the Bureau of Labor Statistics, the average price for whole, frozen turkey in the South is $1.60 per pound, though many grocery stores slash prices as loss leaders.

DeMent and Holcomb strive to educate and advise their customers about the benefits of consuming heritage poultry.

I HAD TO EXPLAIN THAT OUR BIRDS DON’T HAVE POP-UP THERMOMETERS. IF IT’S NOT ON THEM IN THE PASTURE, IT’S NOT IN THE BAG.

Jamie DeMent of Coon Rock Farm

“There’s a bigger difference between commercial and heritage birds than other commercial and heritage meats,” Holcolmb says. “With turkeys, 10 percent of a commercial bird’s weight is (saline) flavor enhancer. Without that, it would taste like nothing. And since those birds never move, the texture of the meat is like mush.”

A more muscled bird requires a different approach to cooking, a fact they say many customers forget despite numerous email reminders.

“One year, someone called and said they had cooked their bird for eight hours and the pop-up thermometer still was not working,” DeMent recalls with a laugh. “I had to explain that our birds don’t have pop-up thermometers. If it’s not on them in the pasture, it’s not in the bag.”

Coon Rock Farm recommends having a proper thermometer on hand and generally following the heritage turkey technique prescribed by Food Network host Alton Brown, which is available online. Brown begins with a wet brine to keep the bird moist and flavorful. Cooking starts in a hot oven to turn the fatty skin into a crisp, moisture-retaining shell, then he dials the temperature down to ensure even roasting. The method can yield improved results with commercial turkeys, too.

TO KEEP CUSTOMERS ENGAGED IN THE MONTHS THAT OFTEN PASS BETWEEN ORDER AND DELIVERY, HOLCOMB INDULGES THEM WITH EMAILED PHOTOS AND VIDEOS OF THE MATURING FLOCK OUTSIDE DOING THEIR THING. IT’S KIND OF LIKE GETTING PICTURES OF YOUR KIDS AT SUMMER CAMP.

To keep customers engaged in the months that often pass between order and delivery, Holcomb indulges them with emailed photos and videos of the maturing flock outside doing their thing. It’s kind of like getting pictures of your kids at summer camp, except the kids get to come home and eat the bird with you.

In the days leading to Thanksgiving, Holcomb says they receive constant emails and phone calls, especially from anxious first timers.

“He always hands off the nervous and crying ones to me,” DeMent says. “Sometimes it’s really sad, like their mama died and they have no idea how she did things. One year, I met a lady at a farmers market and she had a complete meltdown as soon as she picked up the bird to take it home. Taking on that responsibility can be a very emotional experience for people.”

DeMent, however, is matter of fact about their family celebration. “We’ll cook one of the turkeys, probably one that got a clipped wing and isn’t pretty enough to sell,” she says as Holcomb shrugs in bemused acknowledgement. “But by the time we sit down to eat, we’re all pretty much over it. We’ll be having ham and enjoying some bourbon.”

This post first appeared in The News & Observer on Thanksgiving, Nov. 25.

Read more here: http://www.newsobserver.com/news/business/article46492870.html#storylink=cpy

Winston-Salem recalls the welcome table of its beloved neighbor, Dr. Maya Angelou

Memorial flyer near the door at
Shabbytiques in West End.

The death of celebrated writer and civil rights activist Maya Angelou at age 86 on May 28 sent shock waves around the world. Her passing was felt keenly in her adopted hometown of Winston-Salem, where shops in the downtown arts district displayed heartfelt messages and autographed photos of their beloved neighbor.

The question could not help but be asked right away, even by those who made no effort to hide their grief and tears:  Would Dr. Angelou’s legendary Thanksgiving celebrations, which united celebrities and store clerks as equals at her welcome table, continue without her?

“From what I’ve heard, the family wants it to happen,” says Chef Don McMillan of Simple Elegance, who worked on Dr. Angelou’s two cookbooks and catered the weekend-long feasts for the past several years, including last November. “My guess is that it will become a celebration of her life.”

McMillan says the celebrations, which attracted more than 200 attendees from down the street and around the globe, would start with an informal get-together on Wednesdays. Turkey and ham were served at the traditional Thanksgiving meal, along with a staggering assortment of sides, in the Visitor’s Center at Old Salem Museums and Gardens.

In the early years, when the party was small enough for friends and family to crowd around her large dining room table, Dr. Angelou cooked all the food herself. “She was especially famous for her greens and very good stuffing,” says longtime friend Campbell Cawood, who now lives in Key West. “She believed the best way to communicate was over food that was prepared in a loving way. It was heart and soul of how she got to know people.”

Nikki Miller-Ka, a private chef and popular Winston-Salem food writer, got to know Dr. Angelou when they’d see each other shopping at the same local grocery store. She kept a respectful distance until one day when she overheard Dr. Angelou ask her aide to get some fresh green beans. She confided that they were stringy and suggested okra as a better choice.

 “We talked and I helped a few more times when I’d see her,” says Miller-Ka, noting that Dr. Angelou intuited that she longed to be a writer. “She said, ‘You can’t be that descriptive without being a writer.’ She sprinkled some inspiring words upon me. I felt like she made an effort to be a mentor.”

Miller-Ka says the market experience actually was not her first run-in with Dr. Angelou. At age 6 or 7, while playing among clothing racks while her mother shopped, she careened into an elegant woman wearing a black sheath dress, pearls and a large hat. “She looked at me, pointed a finger and just said, ‘You!’” she recalls with a laugh. “I didn’t say a word and I ran back to my mother. Later, my mother looked around and said, ‘Oh, look. It’s Maya Angelou.’”

Betty Morton was similarly intimidated the first time she met Dr. Angelou. Familiar to Reynolds Wrap users as one of the white-jacketed home economics in the popular “Pat and Betty” series of TV ads, Morton helped McMillan cook a catered meal in Dr. Angelou’s home kitchen.

Maya Angelou with Chef Don McMillan
 and Betty Morton (Courtesy Don McMillan)

“It was an unforgettable experience,” Morton says. “Her kitchen was very organized, very well laid out. Her pantry had everything. She was well traveled and what I saw really reflected that. It was a warm place to be. It really felt like a privilege, not only to cook for her and her guests, but to use her things and cook in her kitchen.”

As much as Dr. Angelou’s guests looked forward to a fine dining experience, McMillan says they also enjoyed the casual western-style barbecue that followed Thanksgiving. Perhaps even more anticipated was the Bojangles fried chicken and biscuits served on Saturdays, when her cultured guests took turns reciting poetry, singing, dancing or displaying their particular artistic talent.

“It would range from children performing skits to Ashford & Simpson and people who designed exquisite jewelry,” McMillan says. “When I think of this, it is part of her persona of sharing and loving. It’s been a blessing to be part of her life.”

While it is too early to say whether Dr. Angelou’s family will want to continue the celebration without her, Old Salem will continue to block that time until directed otherwise.

“The space is reserved for this year, but of course we have not yet heard about their plans,” says Old Salem CEO Ragan Folan, whose staff has worked to ensure the privacy of Dr. Angelou and her guests. “I never attended, but I know that it was a wonderful family weekend celebration for many years. We hope it will continue.”

Sign at Miller's on North Trade Street.

Reaganomics Redux: My search for a 'more perfect Union' through pumpkin pecan pie

Early in our marriage, when Rice-a-Roni Spanish Rice with hamburger crumbles was a key feature of my fancy dinner repertoire, I stumbled across a Thanskgiving recipe that seemed to combine the best of two worlds: creamy pumpkin pie and gooey pecan pie.

Unlike many Thanksgiving classics, the pie's pedigree was linked not to Plymouth Rock but to another icon of Americana, the White House kitchen. It was easy to assemble and the slices yielded gracefully from the pan, a grand visage of layered perfection and rich flavor that, sadly, has never been matched.

That's because it came from a newspaper clipping, and that little slip of paper apparently was pitched with the rest of our holiday detritus. After that one public glimpse, it seemed to have reverted to the classified White House files.

I continued hunting without success for its yellowed ghost in all the places I normally stash such things. Years later, after Al Gore invented the internet, I looked to see if it was floating somewhere in digital recipeland. But the internet just said no. Alas, we have made do with the more humble back-of-the-can pumpkin pie even since.

You can imagine my surprise when I threw caution to the wind again this year and optimistically typed the phrase White House Thanksgiving Pumpkin Pecan Pie into the browser. It instantly delivered a link to eBay for a recipe card signed by none other than Nancy Reagan. I was briefly horrified, but the math did seem to match. In my mind, I heard those immortal words: There you go again.

I checked with the menfolk to see if they wanted this for dessert - Graham was several years from becoming the pumpkin of our eyes at first bake - and, Reagonomics be damned, we all cast our vote in the affirmative.

The recipe is simple and calls for ingredients most bakers keep in their holiday kitchen. I don't normally use dark corn syrup but have a vintage jar of the light version of it on hand, so I substituted instead of buying a bottle of dark just for a half-cup of sticky sweetness.

It may not have been the right choice for Ronnie, but I used a store-bought crust. The ingredients lushly filled it to the brim. I carefully tucked it into a 350 degree oven and set the timer, as directed, for 40 minutes.

When the buzzer rang I returned to the kitchen to find my men - and a bonus man, a schoolmate of Graham's - who seemed drawn to the aroma as if by a cartoon hand and snake charmer's song. We opened the door with heady expectation, only to find it still extremely sloshly. "Bitch," I said, as a string of invectives poured forth at our frail former First Lady, who surely had nothing to do with the recipe other than autographing the card - which you still may be able to snag for a $5 bid.

I took another look at the recipe card. There it was, clear as day, a conditional codicil, the sort found in most all government contracts: "or until set."

I think I finally understand trickle-down math, at least as it applies to pie. It took slightly more than an hour until the filling, now inbued with the glossy sheen that high fructose corn syrup reliably provides, was done. The crust was golden and the aroma heavenly, kind of like a big jar of pumpkin and pecan pie Jelly Bellys. It cracked a bit as it cooled, but that little crevass opened a window into temptation that had to be hidden overnight in the back of the fridge.

I'm still not quite certain this is the same recipe I made years ago. I remember it in a honeymoon glow as having distinct layers - pumpkin on the bottom, topped by a slim but intense pecan goo on top. This is more like the love child of each, creamy and crunchy, sweet and substantial. It may not be that "more perfect Union" our forefathers described, but it is pretty damn good.

For vegetarians, a welcome seat at the Thanksgiving table

For those who don’t eat anything that can walk or squawk, Thanksgiving amid a family of carnivores can be a challenge.

“The idea of a vegetarian Thanksgiving used to make a lot of people pretty nervous,” said Kim O’Donnel, author of The Meat Lover’s Meatless Celebrations. “A lot has changed in the last few years. People are expanding their definition of what vegetarian is. Thankfully, it’s no longer the weirdos against the rest of us.”

The veteran food journalist and sometime meat eater writes in her good-humored introduction that the memory of a slightly combative Thanksgiving dinner inspired her second collection of meatless recipe. Competing with the burnished turkey that year was a pitiful boxed tofurky that skewed the Norman Rockwell image of culinary communion so many hold dear.  

“There are 96 percent of us at this point that are still eating meat, but up to 40 percent are exploring how to eat less meat,” said O’Donnel, a leader of the Meatless Mondays movement. “It’s a mash-up. The fact is, we’re not all eating the same thing anymore.”

O’Donnel credits the Meatless Mondays campaign as a major contributor of the nationwide conversation about putting more plant-based meals on the table. “When I found out about it in 2007, it was this fledgling nonprofit teaming up with schools of public health around the country. It was not a mainstream phenomenon.

Kim O'Donnel

“They did research in June 2011 and found that 50 percent of people contacted knew what it was,” she said. “It’s not to say that they agree with it or not. But the conversation is not going way. People are waking up to the fact that they have to change their diet.”

O’Donnel cites abundant research that shows health benefits from making more room on the plate for vegetables and grains. “It doesn't have to be all or nothing. It’s more about incremental change and readjusting your notion of what makes a meal.”

She encourages fledgling vegetarians and those who want to enjoy the benefits of vegetables to avoid the highly-processed vegetarian foods found in the freezer case – not just the dreaded tofurky but also a wide range of convenience foods that tend to be very high in sodium. Additionally, a lot of these products are made by the same Big Ag companies that promote risky genetically-modified foods.

“It’s one reason why I made a definitive decision to not include meat facsimiles in the book,” she said. “For some people it’s a great gateway, but if you really want to get close to the source of your foods, that’s not the way.”

By cooking your own food, and knowing where your food comes from, you become part of the change process, O’Donnel said. “If we don’t cook, we don’t ask questions. We make going through the drive-thru window a way of life. We remain passive and disconnected – and in the dark about our food system. If we don’t get in the kitchen and get the cutting board out, we’ll never change things.”

Delicata Boats with Red Rice Stuffing

Her suggested options for Thanksgiving, let alone the recipes for year-round celebrations, should convince most meat lovers that veggies deserve another chance. One she  particularly recommends, and plans to contribute to a friend’s holiday gathering, is the simple to prepare Delicata Boats with Red Rice Stuffing.

“It’s the first time in several years that I’m not hosting dinner, and it’s kind of a relief,” she admitted. “We’ll bring things from the new book for dinner.  I’ll make the Lentil Pate, which really tastes a lot of chopped liver. I’m doing the Apple Rosemary Walnut Pie with Enlightened Pie Dough. And I’ll probably  bring the Raw Kale Salad.”

O’Donnel includes several recipes using kale in the book, notably the savory Sweet Potato-Pesto Gratin in the Thanksgiving chapter. The versatile kale pesto has become the condiment of choice in O’Donnel’s home. “I used it on a spread with sandwiches, serve it on rice – and it’s great on pizza dough,” she said.

Kale’s status as a super food among knowing vegetable lovers is having an impact among even the most ardent doubters.

“I was doing a demonstration in a grocery story in Arkansas a few weeks ago and people were blown away by the Raw Kale Salad,” O’Donnel said. “That made my day. I love changing the tunes of vegetable haters.”

Raw Kale Salad

Reprinted with permission of Kim O’Donnel from The Meat Lovers Meatless Celebrations (DeCapo Press/Life Long Books 2012).

1 bunch lacinto kale (also sold as Tuscan and dinosaur kale), middle ribs removed (about 5 cups)
3 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice (from 1 to 2 lemons, depending on size)
¼ cup olive oil
1 clove garlic, minced
½ teaspoon salt
¼ cup unsalted almonds, chopped

Optional add-ons:
¼ cup grated Parmigiano-Reggiano or pecorino cheese
¼ to ½ cup dried bread crumbs

Wash the kale leaves and dry thoroughly in a salad spinner. Stack several leaves in a small pile and cut into thin strips (also known as chiffonade).

Place the chopped kale in a medium-size bowl and add the lemon juice, olive oil, garlic and salt. With your hands, massage the seasonings into the kale; this not only ensures even coverage but also helps to tenderize the raw greens. Allow the greens to sit and marinate for at least 20 minutes.

Toss in the almonds and taste. There is usually so much flavor that the cheese and breadcrumbs are unnecessary, but they are terrific extras that really gild the lily.

Keeps for 2 days in the refrigerator.