Family Reunion

My family has dwindled down to just a few individuals, but it was once quite large, and we would have a yearly reunion where several hundred of my mother’s relatives would gather for photographs, celebrating new additions, and a time of remembering.

My mother’s mother was born in 1893 and was the last child of a very large family.  Her mother passed away when Granny was just a few months old, and her father remarried and raised another large family.  My own mother was a late child, and by the time I came along, the family was huge.

My mother’s cousin Winnie decided in the late 1950’s to have a family reunion.  Many of my grandmother’s generation were now in their 80’s, and Winnie thought it would be great to bring everyone together one last time.  Little did she know at the time, this reunion would take place every year for another 18 years before time took its toll. 

Many of my grandmother’s brothers and sisters made it past the century mark.  At the last reunion, one of her older sisters, Annie, had her photo made with her daughter, grand-daughter, great-grand-daughter, and great-great-grand-daughter.   Five generations.  Amazing.  But just as amazing was the fact that Annie’s mother/step-mother was still alive at the time, and she ultimately out-lived a number of her children.  She was well over one hundred twenty years old when she passed away.

Those reunions are long over and few, if any, of the descendents other than my two siblings and myself remember them.  The three of us gathered together a couple of years ago (as we try do every few years) and reminisced about the old reunions.  We remembered the washtubs filled with ice water and Dr. Peppers, Nehi and Grapette sodas, RC Colas, and Big Reds.  There were always piles of fried chicken, potato salads, cakes, pies, and other things, but all we could remember were the sodas and the piles of fried chicken, potato salads, cakes, and pies.  Lots of pies.  Oh, the pies! 

Even the names of everyone are fading after all these years.  The three of us could remember only about fifteen or so of our grandmother’s brothers and sisters, and no more than about ten of the descendant’s names (other than our own, of course).  We had to look on one of the ancestry sites to come up with the names.

One of my grandmother’s older brothers was John.  His wife was Gertrude.  I wrote a little bit about her and her pecan pie in “Dessert Wars.”  But she had other pies that were just as good.  This one she always brought to the reunion, and this is the recipe she wrote out for me.  After John died, she made no more pies.

Chess Pie

Mix some sugar, flour, cornmeal, and salt, and add some eggs and butter.  Cream well, and add vanilla and lemon.  Mix and pour into an unbaked pie shell.

Just like her ‘Circle X Pecan Pie’ I wrote about in “Dessert Wars,” this recipe was from a very experienced cook who worked more by habit, feel, and intuition than anything else.  Below is how I remember her making it, and I think this recipe is extremely close to hers, but no matter how hard I try, it will never be just like the ones at the reunion.

Chess Pie

    1 ¾ cups sugar                                               

    2 tablespoons all purpose flour                                

    1 tablespoon cornmeal                                           

    ¼  teaspoon salt                                              

    4 large eggs                                                   

    ½ cup melted butter                            

    1 teaspoon vanilla extract                                         

    1 teaspoon lemon extract                                       

    1 (8-inch) unbaked pie shell

Mix together the first four ingredients, and add the eggs and butter.  Cream well, and add the vanilla and lemon extracts.  Mix and pour into an unbaked pie shell.  Bake at 375F for about 45 minutes.  If the crust starts getting too brown, protect the edges with some aluminum foil.  Keep a close eye on the pie after 30 minutes.  Cool on a wire rack.

I’ve seen a few recipes for Chess Pie over the years, and most contain milk or buttermilk.  This does not and I always wondered about that.  Anyway, this is how she did it, and it was always the first pie to disappear.

Stub

I like to barbeque, grill, smoke, and everything else associated with outdoor cooking.  Rarely have I ever been without some form of outdoor cooking apparatus in my possession, and when that has happened, I’m not happy.  That doesn’t mean I use it every day, but when I want to cook outdoors, I want to cook outdoors.

Stub is the name of my gas grill.  No it’s not the only outdoor cooking system I own, but it is probably the most used since it is quick to fire up and slap something onto the grates.  Stub gets its name from the fact that it needs fours legs to stand upright, but one of those legs is broken off about three inches above the ground.

Stub has been with me longer than any grill I’ve owned except my first kettle grill purchased about 40 years ago.  That first one lasted almost 25 years through heavy use and abuse before I handed it over to a new owner, but only Stub has rivaled it to any degree for longevity. 

I purchased Stub all shiny and new from a major hardware store several years ago.  This particular store had sent to me a gift card, a large discount card, a card with specific dollars off if I spent over a certain amount, and a rebate from a purchase I had made earlier in the year.  And all of them could be combined.  My net cost to purchase Stub was just the sales tax and the gasoline to get there and back.  This is my kind of shopping.  Stub replaced Brownie, my previous gas grill.  I was happy to see Brownie go, but it did leave a big cooking hole in my life, so Stub was very welcome when he arrived. 

Brownie had been a rescue grill from the alley behind our apartment.  When I found him cowering beside a trash bin, he had been sadly neglected, and had suffered from an obviously abusive relationship.  I brought him into my garage and slowly brought him back to health.  A good scrubbing, several new parts, a new glass across the front (think 1980’s styling), and a new coat of paint.  Brownie was looking good, but Brownie had an attitude.  I think I know why his previous owner beat him and left him in the alley.

The first time I fired up Brownie, he was very cooperative.  He gave me perfectly cooked chicken breasts, and I could not have been more pleased.  The next time I tried to utilize his talents, he refused to light until I finally laid a flaming stick on the burner and turned on the gas for several minutes.  When he did finally light, the fireball was probably seen two counties away.

Brownie was a test of my patience, and my patience has never fully recovered.  When Brownie finally pushed me past the point of no return, I made certain no person would ever again be plagued by this sadistic monster.  Basically I disassembled every part from every other part and took those parts to different trash bins in different alleys over a period of several weeks.  Done.  Good riddance.

Last week I decided Stub had suffered enough with his broken leg.  Carefully I turned him on his side and very quickly and decisively sawed off the jagged edge of his stump.  A 2x2 and a few bolts later Stub had a peg leg.  A little black paint and he now stands proud and tall once again.  No more leaning at a frightening angle, and no more being propped up by a brick.  Stub is now keeping up with the best of them once again. 

Stub’s charcoal burning friend Smoky Roundhouse (an old kettle style grill) also got a new lease on life with a few new replacement parts.  Now each time I walk to the back yard, I can only smile at these two old timers standing side by side ready to cook up some good eats.

David’s Thick Barbeque Sauce:

I usually prefer a thin vinegar pepper sauce with most of my smoked meats (if I desire a sauce at all), but sometimes I just want something a bit sweeter and thicker, especially if the meat has been direct flame grilled.  This goes great with pork or chicken—especially chicken.

Makes about 3 pints.

1 (12-ounce) bottle commercial chili sauce

3 cups ketchup (up to 4 cups if desired)

1 (6-ounce) can tomato paste

1 cup prepared yellow mustard

¼ cup Worcestershire sauce

¼ cup cider vinegar

1/3 cup yellow mustard seeds soaked in the apple cider vinegar for 2 hours

1 tablespoon garlic powder (do not use fresh garlic)

1 tablespoon onion powder (or ¼ cup minced red onion)  

1 tablespoon freshly ground black pepper

1 tablespoon salt

1 tablespoon soy sauce

1 tablespoon fish sauce (optional, but I like it)

1 chipotle in adobo sauce, minced

1 tablespoon pure ancho chile powder

1 teaspoon chili powder

1 teaspoon smoked paprika

½ teaspoon cayenne pepper

½ teaspoon liquid smoke

¼ teaspoon ground nutmeg

¼ teaspoon ground cumin

½ cup honey

1 cup firmly packed light brown sugar

Combine all ingredients except honey and brown sugar in a saucepan.  Very slowly bring the mixture to a simmer.  Remove from the heat and add in the honey and brown sugar.  Mix well.  As the sauce cools mix again three or four times.  Can be served hot, warm, or room temperature as needed.  Store in a covered container in the refrigerator up to one month.

Gooney Islands

My grandmother would on occasion make her version of Coney Islands.  In reality they had more of a Tex-Mex heritage rather than a Michigan heritage, and the only real relation to a Coney Island was the hot dog in the bun.

If one has ever been to Michigan, one has most likely been exposed to the hot dog called ‘Coney Island.’  There are as many versions of this classic dog as there are versions of chili in Texas, but just like chili, there are two basic approaches.  In Texas, the chili is either red or green.  In Michigan, the Coney Island is either dry or wet.

My grandmother would stick a boiled weenie (aka wiener, frankfurter, sausage) in a bun, add some hot mustard and pickles (jalapenos) along the side, and top it with chow-chow, chili, grated cheese, and big chunks of yellow onion.  She would place eight of these into a baking dish like enchiladas side by side and slide the dish into a hot oven for a few minutes until the cheese was bubbly and brown.  Oh were these good!  But they weren’t Coney Islands.

I had business meetings in Michigan one fall, and in the city of Flint I was introduced to the wet Coney Island.  I didn’t know at that time the difference between the wet and dry versions, nor did I know the rivalries and loyalties each incurs, I just went with some of the store employees to lunch.

When I looked at the two dogs I was served, I thought, “Okay, it’s sort of like my grandmother’s version.”  However, I was wrong.  This was nothing like hers.  The smooth slightly thickened sauce was reminiscent of chili, but it didn’t taste like chili.  It was definitely its own thing, and it was good.  In fact it was so good, I stuffed myself stupid on these things, and I paid the resulting price in the days before Beano.

I couldn’t leave these dogs alone.  I was in Flint for four days, and I must have consumed close to thirty Coney Islands.  When it came time to rent a car, drive to a store in Detroit, and leave behind the Coney Islands, I made certain to have a box in the front seat of my car with another dozen within easy reach.  I was convinced I couldn’t live without having a Coney Island as a traveling companion.

Then I arrived in Detroit.  My first night was spent alone in my hotel room wishing I had maintained better control of my appetite for the past few days.  The next morning I had a simple breakfast of hotel room coffee and the last two Coney Islands in my possession, and I was almost glad they were gone.

The morning meeting with the store manager and his staff went well, and about 1:00 the manager announced the lunch he had ordered was waiting for us in a nearby room.  When we opened the door to the room, the first thing I saw was a huge tray piled high with Coney Islands.  Yeah!!!  But they weren’t the same.  These were the dry version preferred in Detroit.  The sauce had a similar taste, but the texture was coarse and dry rather than wet and smooth.  It was similar to a loose meat burger, but the taste was all Coney Island.

Once again, I couldn’t stop myself.  Everyone in the room watched as I packed away four or five of these things.  And since there was a dozen or so left over, I wrapped them up for dinner and a late night snack.

Again I spent a few days living on Coney Islands, and I even put a few in my suitcase to take on the plane when I flew back to my office in Denver.  When I checked my luggage at the airport, the Skycap commented that this must have been my first trip to Detroit.  He was very familiar with the smell of Coney Islands emanating from luggage.

Back home in Texas I told my grandmother about the Coney Islands I had tasted in Michigan (I didn’t tell her how many I had tasted), and she said that is where her idea for them came from.  One of her sisters had traveled there sometime in the thirty’s and had worked for a time in a restaurant where these dogs were the top selling item on the menu.  Back in Texas they had tried to copy the idea, and her baked chilidogs were the result.

I thought I could do the same thing.  At least my grandmother’s chili dogs were on the right track.  Mine, well, a bun and a wiener were about the only thing in common with the Coney Island.  Toasted buns are a given—usually.  An all beef wiener is also a given—sometimes.  And so is mustard and/or ketchup—most of the time.  After that, all bets are off. 

Gooney Islands

Suggested toppings:

French fries with cream gravy.

Salsa.

Guacamole.

Salsa and Guacamole.

A big cheese enchilada (my favorite).

Velveeta cheese.  Lots of Velveeta cheese.  Melted.  Or not.

Fried onions, mushrooms, and peppers (hot or sweet).

Baked beans.

Sour Cream.

Sauerkraut.

Red chili.

Green chili.

Kimchee.

Hollandaise sauce.

Mac and Cheese.

Spaghetti sauce—with or without spaghetti

Any combination of the above.

Name your own.

Gooneys aren’t meant to be Coneys.  They are an artist’s palette and should be treated as such.  Even the type of buns and wieners isn’t necessarily set in stone.  The sky is the limit.

Lazy Day Beef Ribs

I like beef ribs a little more than pork ribs.  Trust me, I will never turn down pork ribs, but give me a choice and I will take the beef.  This is mainly due to growing up with more beef than pork available on the dinner table (not that there was ever very much of either one).

Mostly dinner beef consisted of hamburger, but occasionally (every few months) whole cuts appeared on the plate.  Steak wasn’t common, and I assume it was because I was a kid, and the best cuts went to the adults.  The first time I had steak I believe I was 8 or 9 years old.  My parents started talking about it a week or so ahead of the dinner when I was to get my first taste of it, and they extolled the virtues of the steak in great excess.  I couldn’t figure this out, but I guessed it must be something out of this world.

I came into the house on Saturday evening expecting my first steak dinner, but the smell from the kitchen worried me a lot.  My first thought was that something had rotted in the trash.  Soon my mother came out of the kitchen and noticed me sitting on the sofa reading.

“The steaks will be ready in a few minutes.  Go get washed up for dinner.”

Everyone gathered at the table and I was handed a plate with my steak on it.  I didn’t remember any piece of beef looking like this before.  It was sort of fried and covered with onions and gravy.  And the smell!  Ugh!  But I took a bite.  That was the worst thing I had ever put into my mouth.  I couldn’t eat it.  Needless to say I was in trouble.  I could either eat it or go to bed early and hungry.  I went to bed.

About a year or so later we visited some family friends and steaks were on the grill.  As soon as I heard we were having steaks, I wanted to go home.  Oh, how I wanted to go home.  I didn’t care what anyone thought about my actions, I wasn’t going to eat that steak, and I was going home.

Well, I was forced under threat of a major whipping to stay and eat that steak.  And to my surprise, it looked good, it smelled good, and it tasted good.  What happened?

Later that evening I commented about the difference in the steaks.  I heard some grumbling from my parents but little else.  The next day I was told that what the friends had served was actually liver and not steak.  Well I decided I liked liver.

A few months later, we went to a restaurant where liver was on the menu, and I ordered it.  I remember the waitress giving me a strange look, and I remember my parents looking at each other as though something was dreadfully wrong, but no one stopped me from placing my order.  And when the liver came to the table, I was horrified.  They made a mistake, I didn’t want steak, I wanted liver, and I wasn’t going to settle for anything else.

Finally the truth came out.  My parents had thought I would eat the liver if they called it steak.  They didn’t expect to go somewhere where an actual steak would be served to me, and when it happened at the home of the friends, they weren’t certain of what to say or do, so they let me believe the steak was liver.  Then I ordered the liver at the restaurant.  Well, it was time to fess up.

I didn’t trust them for a long time because of this, and I didn’t eat steak for a long time either.  By the time I was an adult, my tastes had changed a bit, and I was now including liver in my diet every 15 or 20 years, and steak was something I found I could enjoy more regularly, but for most of my teen years, I stayed away from either of them.  Beef, for me, meant brisket, roasts, hamburger, or ribs. 

The beef rib is a Texas favorite, but honestly, it takes a lot of work to do it up right.  Not to mention the time.  Granted, it’s worth it, but sometimes I’m busy, and I don’t have the time to fuss with the fire and smoker all day.  My goal was to have tasty beef ribs without making a mockery of the Texas classic, so I went another direction, and the results are outstanding.  And they cannot be compared to the barbequed version.  They stand on their own.

Lazy Day Beef Ribs

Serves 4 two times.  Or 1 eight times.

    3 dried ancho chiles, stemmed and seeded

    3 dried Guajillo chiles, stemmed and seeded

    1 chipotle chile in adobo sauce, stemmed and seeded

    2 tablespoons adobo sauce

    2 ½ cups water

    1 yellow onion, peeled and quartered

    4 cloves garlic, chopped

    2 tablespoons dark honey

    Juice of 1 lime

    8 big meaty beef short ribs, trimmed of excess fat

    1 to 2 tablespoons olive oil

    1 tablespoon coffee crystals

    1 cup beef broth

Rinse the chiles (except chipotle) under cold running water, and then place in a medium bowl.  Cover with boiling water and soak until softened, about 30 minutes; drain saving the liquid in another bowl. Transfer all of the chiles to a blender with the onion, garlic, chipotles with sauce, honey, lime juice, and about 1 tsp salt and puree until smooth.

Pat ribs dry and season with 2 teaspoons salt and 2 teaspoons pepper. Heat oil in a large heavy skillet over medium-high heat until it shimmers, then brown ribs in batches, turning occasionally, about 5 to 8 minutes per batch. Transfer when browned to large (6 quart) slow cooker. 

Very carefully add chile purée to the fat in the skillet and cook over medium-low heat, stirring frequently, for about 5 minutes. Add the reserved chile soaking liquid, coffee crystals, and beef broth, and bring to a slow boil.  Reduce the chile broth by about one quarter of its original volume, and then slowly pour over ribs (liquid should come about halfway up sides of meat).

Turn the slow cooker on High and cover with the lid.  Go do something else for about 5 to 6 hours.  Or turn the slow cooker on low and do something else for 10 to 12 hours.  Either way, when ready to serve, remove the ribs from the cooker to a platter and keep warm.  Skim the fat from the pot juices and reduce in a saucepan on the stove.

Serve over some mashed potatoes, rice, polenta, or grits.  Add a couple of big cheese enchiladas on the side and this meal will be hard to beat.

I’ve noticed these ribs are better on the day after making them, and better still after waiting another day.  Better than liver any day.

Breakfast

To a Texan the only way to start a day is by attacking a substantial breakfast.  I’m not talking about a leisurely conversation with a cup of coffee and a roll, I’m talking about a literal attack against a formidable opponent.  It could also be called ‘striving toward a goal,’ or ‘man vs. food,’ or ‘a winning attitude.’  It could be.  But that would be a Texas-sized understatement.  But any way you look at it, breakfast in Texas is not for wimps.

A simple breakfast is just a couple of eggs, a chicken fried steak or two, biscuits and gravy, and some home fries.  Grits may or may not be included, just keep them off my plate.  But it’s not too unusual to see the addition of bacon, ham, fried catfish, enchiladas, beefsteak, pork chops, and fruit pies.  Beans, rice, and tortillas are a given.  French fries are always a welcomed change from home fries, and one could easily include just about anything else found on a Tex-Mex menu from tamales to carne asada.  Even a barbeque menu makes a good breakfast.  Coffee is no-brainer, and I’ve been asked more than once at a restaurant if I wanted a beer.  Once I was brought a shot of tequila with my orange juice.  Yes!!  That’s what I’m talking about!

It’s a wonder that Texans aren’t as big as the state, or at least the region of abode, but hard work is the norm and the calories are put to good use.  Life on the farms and ranches starts early and isn’t over until the sun is long gone.  Every day.  Some of the larger spreads have two breakfasts.  The first one is just enough to get started gathering eggs or other small chores.  Then comes the big one.  After that, it’s off to the hard work for five or six hours before the next meal arrives.

After I began working and traveling for a company in the late ‘sixties, I discovered breakfast isn’t the same in other parts of the country.  In Denver I encountered something called a ‘quiche.’  Basically it was just a small slice of baked scrambled eggs in a pie shell with a few things such as onions, cheese and spinach thrown in.  After eating two full breakfasts of these things, I was still hungry.

New York was some fish on a piece of bread shaped like a doughnut.  It took me a few years to appreciate the bagel, but it’s still just fish on a piece of bread.

Many of the southern states served grits with some substantial sides such as shrimp or ham and bacon and eggs.  Not too bad, but not enough, and I’m not a fan of grits anyway.

California served juice and salad, or just a cinnamon roll.  Idaho served potatoes and eggs (more please).  Wisconsin served eggs and cheese with a sausage (a very good sausage).  Chicago was pastry and weak coffee.  A restaurant in Vermont served unlimited pancakes with maple syrup.  The main problem was the use of sawdust instead of flour to make the pancakes.  Many places had a good, but rather small, breakfast.  And just as many places served a large inedible breakfast.

In St. Louis I encountered a pork steak for breakfast.  It came with three eggs, biscuits and gravy, home fries, a big slice of ham and some sausage links.  I was just about to declare St. Louis a part of Texas when I discovered this was being served family style to the three of us at the table.  Oh, well.

I found a place near Oklahoma City that served a fantastic breakfast.  It was a truck stop café with seating for about 30 or so, but the parking area was a bit small, and about 20 trucks would fill it up.  Even so, the place always had people standing outside the door waiting to get in.  I was driving by one morning when several of the truckers were leaving, so I took advantage of the open parking and stopped in.  It was the right thing to do.

The waitress looked at me for about 3 seconds, and then said, “Fort Worth, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll get your breakfast.  Meanwhile, coffee’s over there.  Help yourself.”

I got my coffee and sat back down before I realized I hadn’t even ordered my breakfast.  But it didn’t matter.  Within a couple of minutes the biscuits and gravy arrived with a big chicken fried steak.  Two more minutes and I had three eggs over easy with home fries.  I was swallowing the last bite of the chicken fried steak when a plate of ham, bacon and sausages arrived, along with more biscuits and gravy and two more eggs.  She came back by with a bowl of grits, but before she set them down, she looked at me for a moment, and then walked away with the bowl.  She returned with two big cheese enchiladas and a wedge of apple pie.  (How did she know?)

“I’m sorry, but we’re out of apricot pie.  Hope the apple is okay.”

“Perfect.”

There were a few other ‘perfect’ breakfasts I found outside of Texas, and they were mostly at truck stops or out of the way cafes.  Not every perfect breakfast came with enchiladas and pie, but every one of them was good and in quantity.

A recipe for a Texas breakfast menu is not an easy thing to do, but here is a recipe for one of my favorite inclusions in a Texas breakfast.  Just remember, every breakfast is better with a couple of big cheese enchiladas.

Machaca con Huevos

Serves 4 to 6.

         Marinade:                                                 

    1 tablespoon A-1 Steak Sauce

    1 tablespoon soy sauce

    2 tablespoons Worcestershire sauce                                   

    Juice of 4 to 5 limes

    Juice of 1 large orange

    1 chipotle chile in adobo, minced

    1 teaspoon adobo sauce                                              

    4 cloves garlic, chopped                                       

    1 teaspoon ground cumin                                        

    1 teaspoon chili powder mix                                        

    1/2 teaspoon dried crushed oregano                             

    1/2 teaspoon salt                                              

    1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper                        

    1/2 cup olive oil                                              

         Machaca:                                                  

    3 pounds boneless beef chuck, cut into 4 to 6 pieces     

    1 large red onion, cut in half lengthwise, then sliced across  

    1 large red or green bell pepper, sliced                       

    4 cloves garlic, chopped                                       

    1 (10-ounce) can tomatoes with chiles, diced                  

    1 (4-ounce) can diced green chiles                             

    1/2 cup beef stock                                             

    1 tablespoon dried crushed oregano                             

    1 tablespoon ground cumin                                       

    1 teaspoon Mexican hot pepper sauce such as Cholula or Tapatio                                     

    Coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper                    

    Olive oil for the pan                                          

    8 large eggs, lightly beaten  

    1 small red onion, chopped

    2 New Mexico or Anaheim green chiles (preferably Hatch chiles)

    Unsalted butter

    3 plum tomatoes, chopped

    3 cups dried Machaca

    chopped cilantro

    flour tortillas

Marinade and Machaca:

Whisk all the marinade ingredients together.  Pierce the meat deeply all over with a sharp fork, then place the beef chunks into the marinade.  Cover and let marinate overnight in the refrigerator.

Remove meat from the marinade, drain, and pat dry.  Discard the marinade.  Allow the meat to sit, covered, for about 45 to 60 minutes to bring to room temperature. 

In a large heavy pot, heat 2 tablespoons of the olive oil.  Sear the meat well on all sides, in batches so as not to crowd them.  Remove the meat as it is browned and set aside.  When all of the pieces are browned, pour out the accumulated fat in the pot leaving a layer of drippings on the bottom of the pot.  Bring the pot back up to a medium heat, add in the onion, peppers, and garlic. Cook, stirring, for a few minutes to soften. 

Add the tomatoes, broth, pepper sauce and spices, and cook, stirring and scraping the bottom of the pot to release all the browned bits.  When it comes to a boil, place the beef chunks back in and push down until each piece is submerged, and then lower the heat to bring down to a low simmer.  Simmer, covered, for a few hours.  Stir from time to time, but keep the heat as low as possible and still simmer.

After 2 ½ to 3 hours the meat should be fall-apart tender. Lift the meat out of the sauce, let cool for about 15 minutes, and then using two forks shred the beef along the grain.  Return some of the meat back into the sauce in the pan and cook some more to reduce and thicken the sauce.  This is perfect for burrito or enchilada filling, or served with rice and beans.  But reserve at least half of the meat to make the dried machaca.

Spread the shredded meat in a single layer on a baking sheet.  Bake in a 250F oven for 20 minutes.  Check after 20 minutes. The meat should be dry to the touch with no accumulated moisture beneath.  If not, dry an additional 10 minutes.  Alternatively, the beef can be dried on top of the stove using a cast-iron skillet over medium low heat.  Stir often.

Machaca con Huevos:

Saute the onion and peppers in butter, and when they have softened, add in the chopped tomato and machaca.  When hot, remove from the pan, and then on medium heat cook scrambled eggs until almost done.  Stir in the machaca and tomato mixture.  Garnish with cilantro. Serve with hot flour or corn tortillas.

As always, breakfast is best served with a couple of big cheese enchiladas, but I’ve said this before.

Since I moved away from Texas I don’t hear much about machaca anymore, and I don’t know why this is so.  I occasionally find it in a restaurant in a chimichanga, or a burrito, but I can’t count on getting my machaca fix very often unless I make it myself.  This is the recipe I’ve been using for a very long time, and as with most good eats, it isn’t fast food.

John Henry

My great uncle was one of the most kind and gentle persons I’ve ever known, and his wife was every bit his equal.  Their life was hard, difficult at best, but the only time I ever heard a complaint was when the bag of pecans was getting low.

I’ve written before about Aunt Gertrude’s pies, but I’ve said little about Uncle John.  Sometimes it’s rather difficult to bring back his memory without remembering the loss I felt when he died.  I was almost twelve, and my family had just returned from a week in Missouri, when we were notified that Uncle John had fallen through the unfinished roof on one of his barns.  It took me a long time to adjust.  Even though it was over 50 years ago, the memories are still alive.

I enjoyed being at his farm near Kennedale where the world’s best watermelons grew.  I would go there during the summers with my grandfather to help out in the fields while the giant green orbs grew sweeter in the hot sun.  I don’t believe I was much of a helper, but I was made to feel useful, and always at the end of the day was the big dinner Aunt Gertrude would prepare.  After the pie was finished, we would retire to Uncle John’s sitting room where we would, uh, sit. 

There was no television, but we would watch the radio for a while.  Inevitably Uncle John would open his big bag of pecans, and we would all have a few.  That bag was never empty, although sometimes it would get a bit low; however, the following night it would be full again.  It took me a couple of years before I discovered the secret of the bottomless pecan bag, and it was so simple.  Uncle John kept several big barrels full of them in one of his barns.  Those pecans were used for Aunt Gertrude’s pecan pies, as well as many of the other special treats she made, but they were also used for just general munching.

The Texas state tree is the pecan tree, and they are everywhere.  The native pecan is a rather small nut with a hard shell and a rich oily flavor that no other pecan can equal.  There are many good pecans grown across America, and most of them are much better for decorating than is the Texas native pecan, but the flavor…  Uncle John’s barrels of pecans were gathered from the big native trees growing in the bottom lands along the banks of the Trinity River, but I also remember seeing a few 50 pound bags of paper shell pecans propped up against the sides of those barrels, so apparently any pecan was better than no pecan.  I agree completely.

A few years ago I realized that I have very few recipes requiring any nut other than pecans.  As I inherited or developed these cooking instructions, the pecan was always the preferred nut.  I never use peanuts (I’m allergic to them), hazel nuts sometimes appear, as do walnuts.  Somehow Chiles en Nogada would just be wrong with pecans instead of walnuts, but the pecan is the nut of choice for most of my cooking. 

I have often wondered if I made my choice of using the pecan based on taste preference, or through the influence of Uncle John.  Either way, I do like pecans, and one of my three- or four-hundred favorite ways to consume them in the form of a praline.  This is one of the simplest of candies to make, but be careful, it is extremely hot when forming the patty.

Texas Pecan Pralines

Makes a whole bunch, but never enough.

    1/2 cup granulated sugar                                       

    1/2 cup light corn syrup                                       

    1/2 cup butter                                                 

    1/2 cup heavy cream                                            

    1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract                              

    1 pinch ground cinnamon                                        

    1 1/2 cups chopped pecans                                      

Cook the sugar and syrup over a medium high heat to 250F. Remove from heat and stir in the butter until melted. Slowly add the cream until thoroughly blended (return to heat if needed).

Return to heat and bring the mixture to 242F. The caramel should be a deep golden color. Remove from heat and stir in vanilla, cinnamon, and pecans. Beat for 5-10 minutes until almost cool. Mixture should mound on the spoon but still be able to drop and be stirred easily. Drop (using 2 tablespoons) onto parchment. Allow pralines to cool completely before serving.

I don’t know how long the pralines keep.  They never lasted long enough to find out.

This praline is the chewy type.  My favorite, but I’ll never turn down the crunchy type either.

Charlie’s Ribs

My Uncle Charlie made very good pork ribs, but I didn’t realize this until just before I moved away from Texas.  From time to time I would hear of plans for a family gathering where Charlie was going to be the cook, and I was never able to join in on one of these feasts until just a few months before my departure.  I had been to many feasts over the years, just not one where Charlie was cooking.

 

Charlie had married one of my grandmother’s sisters, and they owned a lake home next door to my grandparents.  In their back yard was a large brick barbeque pit my grandfather (a brick mason specializing in barbeque pits) had built for them.  I knew it was there, but I had never seen it used, and I always thought it was going to waste.  Little did I know, when Charlie cooked, it was all about the barbeque.

 

We didn’t have pork very often in our family.  It was usually too expensive for us, so we raised our chickens, and a steer from time to time.  In my travels with the company I worked for, I began to appreciate barbeque in forms other than beef and chicken, with pork being one of my great surprises.  When I joined in for what would be my last big family gathering, I was astounded to see Charlie cooking pork ribs on that barbeque.

 

The air was filled with the fragrance of pork scented post oak smoke, and my stomach decided it was time to eat right now, but Charlie knew what he was doing and there would be no rushing the ribs to completion.  The process took nearly 5 hours, and Charlie wouldn’t even consider shaving off just a single minute of time.  He would serve them perfectly cooked, or he would throw them away.  Simple as that.  So I waited.

 

My grandmother and her sisters knew just what to do for everyone while we waited.  At about 30 minute intervals, something was set out for everyone to nibble on and give us some momentary distraction.  A few fried oysters, a plate of cheese and crackers, some Fritos with Dog Food Dip, roasted nuts, and even some fried pies.  But nothing stopped the hunger.  As long as we could smell the ribs cooking, we were hungry.

 

About three hours or so into the process, Charlie raised the big lid on the barbeque and pulled out all 30 racks of ribs and laid them onto a big table beside the pit.  I thought it was time to eat, but NoOo.  He grabbed a big paint brush to coat the ribs with his special sauce before placing them back in the pit for another 2 hours.  I actually thought he was doing this just to tease me.  He knew those ribs were done enough to eat at that point, and he knew that I knew it also, but back into the pit they went.

 

When those ribs were finally finished, Charlie removed them to a cutting board where I was given the job of cutting them in half to serve.  That meant I had the privilege of sampling each rack to make certain there was nothing wrong with it.  I took my job seriously.

 

I have never forgotten those ribs, and they are still the standard by which I judge all pork ribs.  I’ve had good pork ribs from many places over the many years since that day, and some were every bit the equal of Charlie’s ribs, but none have ever been better.  His were simple ribs with a slightly complex basting sauce, but they were pull apart tender, and never ever touched by a flame.

 

This takes a big grill for indirect cooking, but the best way to go is with a large offset smoker.

 

 

Charlie’s Ribs

Serves 6 to 8

 

    2 quarts or more oak chips, chunks, or logs if possible

    1/2 cup Kosher salt

    1 tablespoon fresh coarse-ground black pepper

    1 1/2 teaspoons ground cayenne pepper

    12 pounds meaty pork loin back ribs (4 to 6 racks)

    Charlie’s Sauce (recipe follows)

 

Soak oak chips or chunks (not logs) in water to cover for 30 minutes up to 1 hour.  Drain well.

 

Prepare a charcoal grill by lighting fire at one end only or in the offset box of a smoker.  When coals turn white, spread about 1/3 of the oak over the coals.  Bring the temperature to 250F.

 

In a small bowl, mix together salt, black pepper, and red pepper for dry rub.

 

Remove the membrane from the backside of the ribs and pat the dry rub into the ribs.  Place on the grill away from the fire.  Cover and smoke 3 hours, maintaining the temperature at about 225F to 250F and turning ribs every hour; add more soaked chips every hour.

 

After 3 hours baste both sides of the ribs with Charlie’s Sauce.  Cover and cook until very tender, basting and turning occasionally, about 1 ½ to 2 hours.  Cut ribs in half to serve.

 

Charlie’s Sauce

Makes about 5 cups.

 

    1 tablespoon mild smoked paprika

    2 teaspoons ground black pepper

    2 teaspoons chili powder (use Pendry’s if you can find it, otherwise use Gebhardt’s)

    1 teaspoon ground cumin

    1 tablespoon bacon drippings (or melted butter)

    1 medium onion, finely chopped

    4 to 6 cloves garlic, minced

    1 red bell pepper, finely chopped

    1 cup beer (Shiner Bock, Tecate, or Original Coors)*

    1/4 cup ketchup

    1/4 cup apple cider vinegar

    1 tablespoon low-sodium soy sauce

    2 tablespoons Worcestershire sauce

    ¼ cup steak sauce (I like Heinz, but A1 is also good)

    2 tablespoons light brown sugar

    Hot sauce to taste

    2 cups beef stock

 

Mix the paprika, black pepper, chili powder, and cumin in a small bowl.

 

In a one or two quart saucepan, melt the bacon drippings or butter and slowly cook the onion over medium heat until translucent.

 

Add the garlic, bell pepper, and the spice mix. Stir, and cook for about four to five minutes, and then add the stock and the rest of the ingredients. Stir until well blended. Simmer for about 15 minutes. Allow to cool for 15 to 30 minutes, then place in a blender.  Process until somewhat smooth.  Use as a basting sauce for pork ribs.  Can also be warmed and served on the side for dipping.  (Since it has not been used on raw ribs, the same sauce used for basting can be used for dipping.)

 

*Charlie originally used Griesedieck Beer until the mid- or late-fifties.  At that time he switched to Falstaff Beer, and sometime in the mid-sixties he started using Jax Beer.  When Jax Brewery closed the doors, he switched to Pearl.  Good luck finding that.  Original Coors brings the recipe close to Charlie’s original taste, but I like to use Shiner Bock when I can find it.  Otherwise I use Tecate.  I’ve tried many beers over the years, but most don’t taste right in this recipe.  Stick with Shiner Bock, Tecate, or Original Coors, and you won’t be disappointed.

 

 

Dog Food Dip

Makes about 6 to 7 cups.

 

    2 tablespoons canola oil

    2 pounds ground beef

    1 medium yellow onion, finely chopped

    1 cup roasted corn kernels

    1 (10 3/4-ounce) can condensed cream of mushroom soup

    1 pound cubed Velveeta cheese

    1/2 cup chopped pickled jalapeno chilies, well drained

 

In a large skillet, heat the oil over medium heat.  Cook the beef with the onions until the beef is browned and the onions are soft and translucent.  Drain the excess fat and oil, but leave the beef and onions in the skillet.  Add the roasted corn and stir for 1 minute.

 

Stir in the mushroom soup, and then mix in the Velveeta and jalapenos.  Cook over medium-low heat, stirring until everything is well blended, 10 to 12 minutes.

 

Can be served immediately, but the flavor improves if covered and placed in the refrigerator for a few hours or overnight and slowly reheated before serving.  A small slow cooker works perfect for this.  If the dip has thickened too much, add some water two or three teaspoons at a time and mix well.  It’s easy to over thin this, so add the water slowly, mix well, and wait before adding more.

 

This is perfect with big Fritos, but taco chips also work well.  Potato chips just don’t cut it.  And something simply isn’t right about celery sticks.  In a pinch, just use a spoon.

Texas Goats

My family were basically omnivores.  We farmed much of the veggies we ate, and we raised a lot of chickens for the table.  One of my grandfathers almost always had a calf growing fat for the freezer, and pork was occasionally on our plates, although not very often.  We weren’t afraid to eat what we had, because if we didn’t eat it, we didn’t eat.  But we didn’t have much contact with goats.

I was in my early twenties when I first went hunting deer with a friend in south Texas.  There were whitetail everywhere, and we each had our deer by the end of day two.  We took them to a butcher in Freer and hanging in the shop were several dressed out goats.

I sometimes ask really stupid questions, such as “What’re those things?” and “What’cha do with ‘em?”

About two hours later my friend Marty was giving me instructions in goat cooking.  It took the entire night, but by sunup we were ready to feast on goat chili, barbequed goat, baked goat, goat stew, goat carne guisida (not the same thing as goat stew or goat chili), goat steaks, and fresh goat sausage.  Six goats make for a lot of cooking, but Marty’s family, and the ranch hands were all eager to dig in.

While we were working in the big ranch kitchen, Marty began telling me about the real importance of the goat in Texas.  It seems that goats were one of the cheapest things a person could eat, and after the trail drives began in earnest in the late 1860’s, no one really wanted to eat their beeves when goat was so readily available.  The beef was worth money.  Real cash.  A goat was worth almost nothing, but it was quite edible.

He also mentioned that his roots were in San Antonio, where for well over two hundred years his family had operated eateries of various kinds.  One of his great grandmothers and her two sisters had sold chili in one of the plazas in front of their small café.  Food was prepared in the café’s kitchen and brought out in the evening to a big table where it would be dished up to the rich and poor alike.  Then she would sit down on a stool and play her guitar while everyone ate their goat chili.  The sisters never served beef, and rarely served pork or chicken.  Goat was the meat of choice for the chili pot.

Without having to think too hard about it, I realize one beef would feed a handful of cowboys for several days, but without refrigeration, most of the beef had to be made into jerky.  For fresh meat on a more consistent basis, goat was the answer.  It was smaller, cheaper, and quite tasty.  Very little, if any, was left over after a few hungry cowboys or vaqueros left the chuck wagon.

I knew about cabrito that was served in some of the restaurants in Texas, but I always thought it was some kind of “foreign food.”  At least it was foreign to me.  That morning I tasted my first goat.  It was goat chili on top of a fried egg with tortillas, onions, and queso fresco.  Very good.  Then I proceeded to eat my way through a little of everything else we had prepared.  I left the table a changed man.

A few weeks later I was in San Angelo on business, and there was a goat auction taking place that day.  I wandered over there and watched for a short while, but auctions aren’t my thing.  However, I spoke with a few of the men there about what they do with all those goats.  The answer was almost always the same.  Food.

I never knew just how important the goat was to Texans.  Or just how tasty goat is.  It may well be one of the best-kept secrets in the state.  Apparently all the goat eaters weren’t sharing their knowledge with anyone else.

There are as many ways to prepare goat as there are ways to cook beef or pork or chicken.  Here is one of my favorites.

Goat Chili

Serves 6.

    3 ancho chiles, stemmed and seeded

    2 guajillo chiles, stemmed and seeded 

    1 negro chiles, stemmed and seeded 

    1 dried chipotle chile

    Boiling water, to cover

    1 tablespoon chili powder

    1 tablespoon smoked paprika 

    1 tablespoon toasted and crushed coriander seeds 

    1 tablespoon plus 2 teaspoons ground cumin

    1 teaspoon dried oregano

    1 teaspoon minced fresh red jalapeno or serrano chile

    2 cloves garlic, minced

    Coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper

    1 pound lean ground goat meat

    3 pounds cubed goat meat

    3 slices unsmoked bacon, chopped

    Canola oil as needed

    3 tablespoons all purpose flour

    2 medium onions, chopped

    1 cup or more Shiner Bock beer, or your choice, light or dark

    2 cups veal or chicken stock, or goat stock if you have it available

    Coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper

    Hot pepper sauce                                               

 

Chop or tear the chiles into small pieces (under 1 inch), and place in a small pan or bowl.  Cover with boiling water and allow to sit covered with a lid for 30 to 45 minutes.  Drain, but save the liquid.

Place the chiles, chili powder, paprika, coriander seeds, cumin, oregano, jalapeno, and garlic in a blender and cover with the soaking liquid.  Blend until smooth.  Add about 2 teaspoons salt and 3 or 4 big grinds of black pepper to the puree and blend another 15 seconds.  Pour the puree over the cubed goat in a glass bowl, stir to coat, cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate 8 to 12 hours.

Remove the goat mixture from the refrigerator and allow it to come to room temperature for about 1 hour.  Sprinkle the flour over the goat, and stir to mix well.

In a 10- to 12-inch skillet, cook the bacon to render the fat.  Remove the bacon to a platter.  Add about 1 tablespoon canola oil to the skillet and brown the ground goat meat, breaking up any clumps with the back of a spoon.  Remove the browned goat to the platter with the bacon.  Add 2 tablespoons canola oil to the skillet.  Cook the cubed goat over medium-high heat until browned all over, working in batches if necessary.  Add canola oil as needed.  Remove the browned goat to the platter with the bacon.

Turn the heat down to medium low and sauté the onions until soft.  Raise the heat to medium-high, and add the beer.  Bring to a boil and reduce to about 1/2 to 2/3 cup.  Pour in the veal stock and heat to a simmer for about 10 minutes.

Pour into a stockpot, add the meat from the platter and bring to a simmer for 6 to 8 hours.  Stir occasionally to prevent sticking.  When cooked, remove a small portion and taste for seasonings.  Add additional salt, pepper, and hot sauce as needed.

This recipe can also be finished in a slow cooker.  Reduce the onion/beer/stock mixture in the skillet by about one-fourth, and then pour the onion/beer/stock mixture into the cooker and add the meat.  Cover and cook on low for 8 to 10 hours, or on high 4 to 4 1/2 hours.

Serve with warm tortillas, queso fresco, chopped onions, and hot sauce.  And maybe a couple of big cheese enchiladas.

You’ll never look at a goat the same way again.

Turkey and Stuffing

Thanksgiving is a turkey-eating day.  Yes, one can eat just about anything one chooses on any given day, including Thanksgiving, but a turkey just seems like the right thing to put on the table for this holiday.

 

I have always liked cooking turkeys.  It doesn’t matter to me if it goes in the oven, in the smoker, on the grill, on a spit, in a pit, in a roaster, or in a deep fryer.  I’ve breaded it and cooked it like fried chicken.  I’ve cut it into chunks and simmered it.  I’ve microwaved it.  I cooked one in a solar oven.  I cooked one in a reflector system made of aluminum foil and charcoal baskets.  I cooked one in a horno (southwest version of a pizza oven).  I even cooked one by cutting it into pieces and roasting it over a campfire on hotdog forks.

 

I also like cooking everything that goes with a turkey, but my favorite side dish is the stuffing.  Growing up in Texas, stuffing (or dressing) was quite simple.  Some cornbread and/or white bread, butter, sage, salt, and pepper.  Mix in some chicken stock, and shove it into the bird before cooking.  But I take a different approach.  To me, the amount of stuffing that will fit into a turkey will feed one person only; therefore, I cook the stuffing separately and in great quantity.  And mine is a little more complex that the stuff(ing) I grew up with.

 

I believe the stuffing should match the flavor of the turkey.  At times I’ve experienced things like a sage rubbed turkey with a fruit stuffing.  How about a smoked turkey with oyster jambalaya stuffing?  I’ll never forget the barbeque grilled turkey with honey and wild rice stuffing.  I ate every one of them, but the flavors were not quite right.  I’m not saying turkey and stuffing should be perfectly matched, but they should be very close so the stuffing becomes an extension of the flavor of the turkey.

 

Here is one of my favorite turkey/stuffing combinations:

 

Southwestern Turkey with Tamale Stuffing

Serves 12.

 

Garlic-Chile Paste:                                       

    50 cloves garlic, unpeeled (about 3 to 4 heads)                

    2 dried ancho chiles, rinsed                                   

    1 dried guajillo chiles, rinsed                                

    1 dried negro chile, rinsed                                    

    1/2 cup corn oil (prefered) or canola oil                      

    2 teaspoons toasted and ground cumin seeds                     

    1 teaspoon table molasses or honey                             

Turkey:                                                    

    1 (18 to 20) pound turkey                                      

    2 tablespoons corn oil (prefered) or canola oil                

    1 3/4 pounds turkey neck, wings, backs, cut into 1 to 2-inch pieces

    1 white or yellow onion, chopped                               

    3 ribs celery, chopped                                         

    2 Roma tomatoes, seeded and chopped                            

    1 teaspoon allspice berries                                    

    5 cups low-sodium chicken broth, or turkey stock               

Gravy:   

    1/3 cup (approximately) all purpose flour                                                                       

    1/2 cup Chili-Garlic Paste

     6 cups low-sodium chicken broth, or turkey stock               

     1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper                                    

Garlic-Chile Paste:  Preheat oven to 350F.  Cut a small slit in each clove of garlic and distribute on a baking sheet.  Place on center rack in oven for about 20 to 25 minutes until garlic begins to brown.  Remove and cool 5 to 10 minutes. Peel garlic and remove hard tips.  Measure 1/2 cup of the garlic, reserving any extra pieces.  Blend in a food processor to form a rough puree.

 

In a small cast-iron skillet, toast chiles until blistered and fragrant.  Allow to cool, then remove stems and seeds.  Tear into pieces and place in a small saucepan with enough water to cover. Simmer over medium-low heat until chiles are soft, about 15 minutes.  Add softened chiles and any remaining liquid, oil, cumin, and molasses to garlic in processor. Puree until smooth. Season with salt and pepper.

 

Turkey:  Remove the giblets, and dry the turkey with paper towels.  Sprinkle with salt and pepper to season.  Loosen skin of breast by sliding hand or wooden spoon under the skin.  Spread about 1/2 cup of the chile paste under the skin.  Fill the cavities with stuffing, if desired.  (If leaving the turkey unstuffed, place in the main cavity 1 yellow onion, halved, and 1 bunch of cilantro.  Place in the neck cavity ½ yellow onion and ½ bunch cilantro.)  Rub 2 tablespoons paste all over outside of turkey, and reserve remaining paste for gravy.  Tie the legs together and place the turkey on a rack in a roasting pan.

 

Preheat the oven to 325F with the rack in the lowest third of the oven.  Heat the 2 tablespoons of oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat.  Add the cut-up turkey parts (and giblets if using) and the onion.  Saute about 15 minutes until brown.  Remove the parts to the roasting pan, surrounding the turkey.  Add to the roasting pan the celery, tomatoes, allspice, and any remaining garlic.  Add 2 cups broth or stock and roast the turkey for 1 1/2 hours.  Tent the turkey and pan loosely with heavy aluminum foil and continue to roast until a meat thermometer inserted into the thickest part of the thigh registers 180F (about 1 1/2 to 2 hours more).  During this time, baste the turkey with the pan drippings and the remaining 3 cups of broth or stock.  (If the turkey is stuffed, the additional roasting time will be up to 3 hours longer.)

 

When turkey is finished, remove to a platter or carving board and tent with aluminum foil for about 30 minutes.  Reserve the contents of the roasting pan for making the gravy.

 

Gravy:  With a large slotted spoon or tongs, remove turkey parts from pan and discard. Pour mixture in pan into sieve set over large bowl.  Press on the solids in sieve to release liquid. Spoon fat from pan juices; add enough broth to juices to measure 6 cups.

 

Stir 1/2 cup reserved garlic-chili paste in heavy saucepan over medium-high heat until liquefied. Add flour and stir 1 minute (mixture will be very thick). Gradually add 6 cups broth mixture, whisking until smooth. Simmer until reduced to 4 1/2 cups, about 20 minutes. Season with cayenne, salt and pepper.

Tamale Stuffing

Serves 12.

    ¼ cup butter, divided                                  

    1 medium yellow onion, diced                                 

    4 cloves garlic, minced                                         

    8 cups crumbled cornbread                                      

    1 teaspoon ground cumin                                      

    1 teaspoon dried sage                                        

    ½ cup chopped cilantro                                        

    6 jalapeño peppers stemmed, seeded, diced                      

    2 cup frozen roasted corn kernels                              

    2 cup toasted and chopped pecans                               

    8 ounces shredded pepper jack cheese                           

    12 cups turkey or chicken tamales, chopped                      

    4 cups turkey or chicken broth                                 

    Coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste          

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

 

In a large cast-iron skillet, melt the butter on medium-low heat. Add the onions to the skillet and cook until translucent, about 5 minutes. Add the garlic and cook for 30 more seconds.

 

Once cooked, remove the skillet from the heat and transfer the cooked onions and garlic to a large bowl. Add to the large bowl the crumbled cornbread, cumin, sage, cilantro, corn kernels, pecans, diced jalapenos, and pepper jack cheese. Stir until well combined. Gently stir in the chopped tamales, and place the stuffing in 2 greased 9x9 baking dishes.

 

Pour over the turkey or chicken broth over the stuffing and gently stir to combine. Adjust seasonings and add salt and pepper to taste. Cover the baking pans with foil and bake for 45 minutes. Remove the foil and bake for 15 more minutes or until top is lightly browned and the edges are crisp.

 

Note:  I use two 9x9 baking dishes rather than one larger baking dish in order to cook the stuffing more evenly.  You can use a larger dish, but the edges will be hard and the center very soft.  You can also stuff the turkey with this recipe, but I prefer an unstuffed turkey.  I think the turkey and stuffing both taste better when cooked separately.

 

Also:  There is a lot of turkey and stuffing here.  It can easily serve about 14 to 16 people, but I like larger portions and leftovers if possible.

 

For the tamales, I like to make my own, but I’m not opposed to buying them.  Red Pork tamales are acceptable here, but homemade chicken or turkey tamales are best, especially if the filling includes some Garlic-Chile Paste made according to the turkey recipe above.

 

I’m not a big gravy eater (other than biscuits and gravy), and sometimes I don’t even bother to make it.  Sometimes I just use salsa or pico de gallo.  I’ve even used chili.  Choose what works best for you.

 

I also find that this turkey and stuffing combination is perfect with a couple of big cheese enchiladas.