Last night, I roasted some turkey thighs and wings along with some aromatics (onion, carrot, celery, and garlic). The next step was to make stock from the roasted turkey and vegetables. I was tempted to make the turkey stock last night, but I didn’t have the energy and I had a banging headache starting up.
This morning, I woke up with that same headache. After a trip to the gym and a bowl of cereal, I swallowed some ibuprofen and started cooking.
I started with turkey stock. Those roasted turkey parts simmered gently in a pot of more aromatics, some thyme, chicken broth, and white wine. Slow bubbles rose to the surface before breaking and releasing the most heavenly aromas. As the house filled with scents of Thanksgiving over the next two hours, my headache slowly disappeared.
I am a collector of cookbooks, but it has not always been this way.
My first cookbook was an early version of the Better Homes and Gardens New Cook Book, and I received a short, thick paperback copy when I went away to college. I’m pretty sure my parents gave it to me, but it could have been some other well-meaning high school graduation gift-giver. I remember thinking that it was such a sweet gift, and I put it on my bookshelf where it remained until I moved, then it went into a box with other kitchen items, then back onto the bookshelf in the next apartment. This cycle repeated more than a few times.
I received another copy of the Better Homes and Gardens New Cook Book when I got married. That book, a larger hardback binder version with five metal rings holding the recipes inside, went onto the bookshelf beside its older, petite sister. They stood side-by-side for another five or six years, rarely moving off the shelf and definitely not getting the attention they deserved.
If it is quiet, I can hear a plop as an acorn drops into the pool from the towering oak trees above. Water ripples out in a concentric circle as the acorn joins its brethren in the bottom of the deep end. A moment later, there is a plunk as another acorn pelts the roof and bounces off into the grass.
This is prime acorn season, and our abundant squirrel population should be feasting right now, or at least stockpiling their acorn stores for winter. Instead, the obnoxious rodents have avoided our back yard since it became a construction zone over the summer. The construction has been over for the past couple of weeks, but the squirrels haven’t returned. This is not a bad thing, except that I would welcome their acorn scavenging.
I am sad about the birds, though. The birds followed the squirrels’ lead and have also stayed away. Our two bird feeders, filled but untouched since I replenished them two weeks ago, swing gently from the pergola that shades our patio. I miss the cheeping of cardinals and the chatter of the Carolina wrens. I miss the birds, but I remain optimistic that they will return. (I just hope it will be soon.)