Thanks

My dad and I got to talking yesterday afternoon about how Thanksgiving leftovers are his favorite kind of leftovers. I agree with him that Thanksgiving gives us some terrific leftovers: mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, pies, some turkey.

Dad says that he likes Thanksgiving leftovers the best because he always knows what foods to expect. Christmas dishes vary every year at our family table, with the exception of the dependable jalapeno creamed spinach. At Thanksgiving, you can count on certain family staples to be lined up on the table runner like a thread connecting every Thanksgiving that came before, and every Thanksgiving to follow.

I love Thanksgiving, too, and I have some interesting memories of Turkey Days past. Take the one with the helicopter ride. It happened on my grandmother's farm, when our friends Frank and Ruth, who owned a helicopter called Black Thunder and did the traffic for the local radio stations, landed the chopper in the side pasture. They took us for rides over the barley fields and stock tanks of Alvarado, Texas, buzzing Grammy's corrugated metal barn a time or two. I remember my stomach jumping as the helicopter nosed downward, autumn-yellow fields skating by under my little Reeboks.

A doctor from Beijing was visiting my dad's hospital that year, so he'd asked her to join us to celebrate Thanksgiving. An enthusiast for American customs, she probably will be disappointed if she has Thanksgiving anywhere else, now that she has had a helicopter ride over Texas with us.

Most of my early Thanksgivings were held out on Grammy's farm and to this day, even here in warm, humid South Florida, my mind associates Thanksgiving with cold fronts, straw bales, and Grammy's green Depression glass pitchers of iced tea. One of my earliest memories is the Thanksgiving my dad harnessed Grammy's quarterhorse, Lacy, to an ancient wooden wagon that Grammy housed in her garage. Lacy towed us around the house a few times, ears cocked back toward our boisterous group in the wagon as if to say, "I'm only putting up with this foolishness for the carrots."

A time came when I was no longer home to have Thanksgiving on Grammy's farm. I spent my junior year of college in London, studying English literature. Who knew how darn difficult it could be to find a whole turkey there in late November? My sister visited me on her Thanksgiving break from school and after combing the Sainsbury's of Westminster, we adjusted our ambitions and ultimately settled for chicken, which we knew that we were capable of baking. The two of us prepared a meal with a bunch of my British, Scottish, and American friends in the dormitory's tiny second-floor kitchen, within earshot of the Abbey's bells.

Yesterday, Steve and I drove to his parents' house, just as we have done since we were first married. I balanced my mother's cranberry-raspberry tart in my lap, and I smiled, knowing that two thousand miles away, my mother and my sister had prepared the same dishes. Merri, Steve's mother, roasted a perfect bird and as we sat down at the loaded table, we clasped hands with the people we love and said a few words of thanks, each of us welcoming to the circle those who could not be with us, each of us thinking of many Thanksgivings past.

Charlie Trotter's Shaved Fennel Apple Salad
From this recipe available at Epicurious.com (originally published in Charlie Trotter Cooks at Home)

Need something light and fresh to go with your leftover mashed tubers and creamed whatnots? This salad can help you with that.

1/4 cup freshly squeezed lemon juice
2 tablespoons chopped fresh tarragon
1/3 cup extra-virgin olive oil
1/3 cup canola oil
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 Granny Smith apples, peeled, cored, and halved
2 bulbs fennel, thinly sliced (if you own a mandolin, this is a good time to use it)

To prepare the vinaigrette: Whisk together the lemon juice, chopped tarragon, and olive and canola oils in a small bowl and season to taste with salt and pepper.

To prepare the salad: Cut the apple into thin slices and place in a medium bowl with the fennel. Toss with the vinaigrette and season to taste with salt and pepper.

Serves: 8 appetizer portions

Chef X

If you could hire anyone to cook for you, whom would you choose?

I ask because my husband and I had an interesting discussion about this last night. He reads The Huffington Post, which receded from politics long enough this week to cover the possible picks for the position of White House Chef by President-Elect Obama.

It's been reported that the Obamas love Frontera Grill. When questioned about the possibility that he might be a pick, however, Rick Bayless demured:

We cook this really wonderful Mexican food, I don't think that's what they want at every state dinner. Maybe every once in awhile we can be guest chefs at the White House.

'Scuse me? I personally would love to have really wonderful Mexican food at every meal.

However, my husband points out that the White House Chef must be versed in good old American-style food. I suppose that he is right; the First Chef is a culinary ambassador to visiting Heads of State. Thomas Keller or Charlie Trotter might be good picks, assuming that (a) the American taxpayers can afford their going rate and (b) they would be interested in abandoning their empires to cook for the White House.

Still, if money was no object, how I would love to have authentic, well-prepared cuitlacoche crepes whenever I so desired . . . how about you? Whom would you choose?

Honey-Roasted Pear Salad with Thyme Verjus Dressing
Available here at Epicurious.com

The original recipe calls for a combination of butter lettuce and arugula, but butter lettuce was not available at my grocery store this week. Because I like the snappy taste of arugula, I used one bunch of that rather than trying to find a substitute for the butter lettuce.

Additionally, verjus is difficult to find, so I went with the combination of white grape juice and apple cider vinegar suggested in the original recipe.

The salad was not harmed by these improvisations and is delicious, particularly on a dark autumn night.

For the dressing
1/3 cup verjus or 3 tablespoons white grape juice and 2 tablespoons apple cider vinegar
1/3 cup grapeseed oil
1 large shallot, finely chopped
2 teaspoons fresh thyme leaves

For the salad
3 bunches fresh thyme sprigs
4 ripe but firm Bartlett pears (about 2 1/2 pounds), halved and cored
1/4 cup honey
1 bunch of arugula
6 ounces blue cheese, coarsely crumbled (I used a lovely, not-too-stinky Valdeon Blue wrapped in chestnut leaves)
1/2 cup hazelnuts, toasted, coarsely chopped

Whisk the ingredients for the dressing together in a small bowl. Season dressing to taste with salt and pepper, and set aside.

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. Scatter the thyme sprigs on a rimmed baking sheet or shallow baking dish. Place the pear halves, cut side down, on a work surface. Starting 1/2 inch from stem and leaving the pear half intact, cut each pear lengthwise into 1/2-inch-wide slices. Press the pear gently to fan the slices, then place atop the thyme sprigs. Drizzle the pears with honey and sprinkle with a pinch of salt and pepper.

Bake until the pears are tender, about 15 minutes. Let the pears stand on the baking sheet at least 30 minutes and up to 3 hours, until they are room temperature.

Place the arugula in a large bowl and drizzle with the dressing, tossing lightly to coat. Because arugula bruises easily, I suggest that you refrain from tossing with any utensils. Divide the salad among four plates and place the roasted pears atop the greens. Garnish the salads with the blue cheese and hazelnuts.

Serves: 4