meal pics and critical analysis

The pre-Thanksgiving luncheon is done.  Ah, the agony and the ecstasy!

One bit of cooking wisdom is Taste as you go.  (There are several "as you go" maxims for cooks.  Another is Clean as you go so as to minimize the amount of dishwashing that you have to do at the very end of your cooking project.)  This is sometimes easier said than done.  Take my pie, for instance:  I tasted the pie's filling before I baked it, but once the pie was baked, I couldn't taste it without ruining its look.  Not that the look could be ruined, given how cracked and ugly the pie was after it had cooled.  Anyway, I knew I was taking a risk by bringing my pumpkinish pie to the office:  we would all be tasting it for the first time.

And in the end, the pie was a failure.  The cracks in the pie were an omen, as was the pie's unwonted firmness when it came out of the oven.  A typical custard-style pumpkin pie is a tiny bit wobbly when it's done baking; technically, it's still cooking at that point because you're supposed to leave it inside the now-extinguished oven to cool down as the residual heat fades.  As I noted earlier, several factors can lead to a cracked surface:  the overuse of egg whites, an overly rapid cool-down, and overbaking.  These factors show the interplay between a pie's internal consistency and its external environment.  I think my pie suffered from all three of the above-mentioned factors, but there was a fourth factor as well:  the pie's overly thick consistency.  I had about 1.7 times the squash flesh that a typical pumpkin-pie recipe calls for (typical = about 450 grams, or about 16 ounces; I had 750 grams).  While I tried to eyeball the other elements in the recipe, multiplying everything by 1.7, I must have done a bad job of it.  When I cut myself a slice of pie and bit into it, I could tell right away that the pie was overly dense.  My coworker described it as "cakey," which was an apt descriptor, despite there being no flour in the filling.  (Some recipes for pumpkin pie do, in fact, call for a tablespoon or two of flour to be stirred into the filling.)  While my coworker went on to insist that he liked the pie and found it delicious, I think the damage was done, and my coworker was just being polite.  At least the crust was okay, but then again, with the recipe I use, the crust is impossible to mess up.  Here, ladies and gents, is what fugly looks like:

The other elements of today's meal were much better, although not perfect.  Below is a pic of the peas and carrots plus the shaved, glazed ham.  The ham was indeed fantastic, but you didn't need more than a slug's IQ to make the honey-cassonade-butter glaze.  The peas and carrots were interesting because the bag of frozen peas I used contained European peas, and I had no idea that European peas were tougher than American peas and needed a lot more time to boil before they could become soft.  With your typical bag of frozen American peas, you just dump the contents into boiling water, let everything boil for a few minutes, and voilà—you're done.  European peas, as I discovered, remain tough even after a few minutes' boiling.  Such peas are not nearly as soft or as sweet as their American counterparts.  So I cooked the peas and carrots a bit longer before draining them and applying butter, salt, and pepper.  This still didn't solve the problem, so I resolved to blast the peas in the office microwave once I got to work.  I did so, and that sort of worked:  the peas were at least tolerably soft.

The rolls come courtesy of my boss:

The stuffing was as awesome as advertised.  The only problem was that pairing the stuffing with the turkey proved problematic:  I had applied herb-infused butter to the turkey breast, which resulted in some very sage-heavy turkey.  That, alongside the stuffing—which had sage-herbed croutons and sage-forward breakfast sausage—made everything far too sage-y.  Either component on its own would have been fine; putting them together proved to be a mistake.  Not a tragic mistake, but not a pleasant mistake, either.  Anyway, I enjoyed the stuffing when I focused exclusively on it:

Below, you see the cranberry sauce and the mashed potatoes.  Zero complaints here:  I loved the cranberry sauce and didn't hear any carping about it from anyone else, and everyone loved the potatoes, which proved to be the most popular item on the menu—so popular that I joked about making nothing but mashed potatoes for Thanksgiving next year.

The turkey breast was fine, but when I cook more turkey for the upcoming gathering of my friends on Saturday the 28th, I'm going to stick to salt and pepper.  I'm not even sure I'll add butter, which may be unnecessary, given that there'll be gravy.

My American coworker, the one who had experienced a corn-related disaster in his youth, was open-minded enough to try my cream corn, and he loved it.  This item didn't prove to be anywhere near the top seller that the mashed potatoes were, but my coworker loved the corn, and so did I.  This isn't my recipe, though.  For the recipe, click here:  Cream Corn Like No Other.  Is that clickbait-y enough of a title for you?

And here, at last, is a look at the ensemble:  Thanksgiving on a plate.  While it wasn't a perfect meal by any means, it was a good dry run for next week's shindig.  I learned a lot, got a few things wrong, and got more things right.  On balance, the meal got positive reviews; the boss proclaimed himself stuffed, and my American coworker told me that, while he doesn't normally miss American food, he feels the nostalgia whenever he eats my food.  I'll take that as a compliment.  (Not pictured:  my large dollop of cranberry sauce.)

Next week's menu will be mostly like this one, but with some changes.  Luckily, I'm not responsible for dessert for next Saturday; my buddy Charles has that covered, and since he doesn't like pumpkin pie and especially hates winter squash (dan-hobak), he's making chocolate cake.  I'm a chocoholic, so I'm not complaining.  For my part, given how my pie basically crashed and burned, I plan to make an "I'm sorry" pie to give to my work colleagues early next week.  Maybe I should go for blueberry...?

UPDATE:  my Korean coworker cut himself a slice of pie to take home to his wife, and he just texted me to say she loved it.  Go figure.