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Control group: Meet your chefs!

Whew. The guests are starting to arrive. We are so far ahead of schedule (don’t ask me how) that there isn’t even any need to move quickly, much less panic. Everything is lined up on the bar, ready to pop into the oven. The turkey is gorgeous and aromatic (we turned on the oven; it helps), the potatoes are being peeled, and we’re totally calm. I guess we’ve learned a thing or two about a thing or two about how to run this business over the last nine years.

So, you know. There might be a couple more updates, but I figured I’d take advantage of this lull to wish you a Happy Thanksgiving, and hope that you are as happy, and as hungry, as we are on this fine day. Thanks for joining us in our insanity here at Pithy and Cleaver.

With love,
Shiv and Biscuit

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Sourdough stuffing

1:50: This post should have started earlier, as the stuffing is essentially done now, but still. Better late than never, and all that. I love that we’re at the point that I don’t actually need a recipe for stuffing — it’s just vegetables, sourdough, and all the herbs in the world. For serious: parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme (obvs), plus chives, and tarragon. Yarrrm.

Nothing you haven’t seen before: Figs and prosciutto

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2:44: They are under the broiler, being professionally fabulous. T-minus 3 minutes!

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1:45: They turned out so beautifully, I just had to give you a picture. Aren’t they pretty?

Hi guys!

So, we’re a bit crazed in here; we’re assembling figs, my hands are full, Biscuit is juggling a thousand tasks. Delightful houseguest no. 1 is wrapping things in prosciutto, Delightful houseguest no. 3 is taking care of the dish backlog. My sister is lost and we’re trying to give her directions. We’re at capacity, which means we’re probably not going to get to blogging the figs until later. Or at all, since ,you’ve seen these things before.

I will say: fresh mission figs. Coach farm triple cream cheese. 15-year old balsamic vinegar. Organic Sonoma County eucalyptus honey. Aw. Motherfuckin’. Yeah. This stuff’s going to be good.

More later!

Do you think we have enough dessert? Tres leches bread pudding.

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12:20: Pudding is out, and smothered in dulce de leche. Having trouble not eating it all RIGHT NOW.

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10:50: Eggs! Whipping! Milk! Being measured! Custard is GO!

Remember my obsession with dulce de leche? Notice that custard seems to be happening all over the place? Remember what I said about Biscuit’s cat?

Yeah, because 5 pies just aren’t enough, we’re adding another dessert to the roster: Tres leches bread pudding, featuring a large jar of my homemade brew, a lot of brioche, and (of course) looooooooooooooooooove.

Main Event: Herb-Roasted Turkey

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4:41: More basting. The shallots are caramelizing. You don’t even know.

1:50: Basting, basting. …which would be easier with an actual baster. I tend to just slosh the stock across the top from a measuring cup, which works pretty well too.

12: 51: Turkey’s looking good. Would be looking better if the oven had been on.

12:22: Ladies and gentlemen, the turkey is in the oven. Repeat: the turkey is in the oven. And it smells fucking AWESOME in here (not just the turkey).

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12:03 pm: Okay! We’re all buttered up, tucked in, and ready to go. As soon as a couple pies come out of the oven, I can rejigger the shelving in there, and in she goes.

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11:47: Shiv here. Biscuit is violating the turkey. And by “violating,” I mean smothering it in the wonderful, delightful herb butter. Also wearing it as a glove.

10:30 am: After my first not-entirely-successful attempt at roasting a turkey (Maple-Glazed), I decided to switch to a different recipe for Year Two. I’ve never looked back. The Herb-Roasted Turkey always ends up succulent and delicious — and as a bonus, makes a gravy that is so mind-boggling, I wish I could go swimming in it. As of right now, the turkey has been rinsed out, I have some slave labor (hi, Zack!) peeling me a mountain of shallots, and the herb butter is coming up to room temp. Turkey! Pow!



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