Mess up the gravy, and your turkey’s cooked

Thanksgiving 2004 is sure to go down as the most catastrophic in Usher family history, and like it or not, I accept complete responsibility: The menu (all six courses) was my design; I insisted on cooking everything (including the cranberry sauce and two other condiments); and the meal was at my house (in a brand-new and unfamiliar kitchen). The holiday got off to an inauspicious start with the discovery that my trusted organic turkey farmer had closed her business, leaving me short one very important ingredient. After traveling 30 miles to the nearest organic market, only to find it had no extra birds, I reluctantly settled for a lesser variety, pumped with antibiotics and who-knows-what preservatives. Two hours later, a three-onion casserole emerged from the oven. From the looks of it, I had gotten my groove back. Richly caramelized and gooey with cheese, the casserole was as close to perfect as it gets. I had barely finished patting myself on the back when I spotted my husband moving the dish off the crowded counter to the top of a new kitchen cabinet. Normally, I would have welcomed his tidying of my workspace, but in this case, the cabinet was just a facade that lacked a top. I let out a shrill cry and, in a nose-dive, I traversed the length of the room, hoping to catch the dish before it hit the floor. The casserole was not lost, though, regrettably, I cannot say the same about my composure. When I finally brought the meal to the table, I half expected a standing ovation. But no smiles or oohs and ahs were to greet me – only looks of concern, if not displeasure, followed by anxious inquiries about the whereabouts of the gravy. You see, by the time the bird came out of the oven, the stress of the day had completely derailed me. Out of steam, I tore off my apron, threw in the kitchen towel and bagged the last-minute gravy task. The moral of my Thanksgiving tale: Never let a daunting menu get in the way of the gravy, and don’t be intimidated by the gravy-making task. Gravy is essentially roux (a 1-to-1 mixture of fat to flour used as a thickener), defatted drippings from the turkey and poultry stock, cooked to the desired consistency and then seasoned with salt, pepper and herbs. The stock is the ingredient that requires the most foresight, so let’s start with that. I always advocate going the homemade route whenever possible. Just be sure to make the stock well ahead, either the day before or even earlier. (Homemade stock will stay fresh in the fridge for about a week, but it can also be frozen without loss of flavor for up to a few months.) Since you probably won’t have turkey bones hanging around to flavor the stock (at least, not yet), feel free to use chicken backs, necks or wing tips left over from earlier meals or ordered in advance from your local butcher. If you’re really pressed for time, don’t hesitate to use store-bought chicken broth. Reason one: Some of these products are quite good. My favorite brand is Pacific Natural Foods, which makes an organic, free-range, low-sodium and fat-free chicken broth that comes in a box. Reason two: Even a relatively small, 12- to 14-pound bird can generate a cup or so of drippings – and the more drippings, the less stock or broth you need to add to the gravy for a given quantity of roux. Simply bump up the ratio of drippings to stock, and you can reliably mask small shortcomings in grocery stock flavor. One major caveat: Should you choose a canned stock, you can throw all I’ve said to the wind, as these stocks have a distinctive metallic taste that is virtually impossible to disguise. Defatting the stock and drippings – that is, removing the oil slick that rises to the top – is a crucial step in making good gravy. I strongly recommend using a fat separator – a tall, clear container with a long, funky-looking spout that exits close to the container bottom – rather than the old-school method, which involves scooping the fat layer off with a small spoon. So, if you find yourself at a crossroads this Thanksgiving, uncertain about whether to make gravy or call it quits, I urge you to stay on track with these important tips and my no-fail giblet-and-thyme gravy recipe that follows.