After taking care of 3 gallons of boiling peanut oil, washing the oil splatters from the floor and scrubbing the fried bacon smell from my clothing, I can look back and say that frying a turkey is something everyone should try. My FriendsGiving started as a way to fulfill my goal of deep-frying large poultry and a means to get rid of the extra turkey sitting in my freezer. Once I found out that a co-worker had all the necessary hardware to do some heavy-duty frying, I made plans for Thanksgiving part 2. The idea was simple—provide the food and place and everyone else provides the beverages. Frying a turkey not only provides lots of food, it is an excuse to stand around a huge pot of hot oil while drinking beers in thirty-degree weather. The procedure to transform a turkey from the heaping, pale mass of flesh and bone seen here:
…To the delicious mound of fried goodness seen here…
…is not too difficult. If you can get your hands on a frying setup, the cooking itself is a cakewalk. Granted, I wouldn’t want to do it everyday—cleaning it up is a hassle—but if you have a few good folks around it is worth the effort. We quickly found that the worst part is waiting. Just like real Thanksgiving, FriendsGiving was full of grumbling stomachs churning at the scent of the forthcoming meal. Also like real Thanksgiving, your guests have the opportunity to eat oodles of cheese and crackers as they consume more libations in an attempt to ease the hunger. Unlike Thanksgiving, however, the delicious scent of fried meat will permeate your clothing and hair and stick around far longer than it takes to digest all the food. Who doesn’t want to smell like their dinner two days later?Everyone I spoke to about turkey frying told me the same thing—submerge the bird slowly. There are more than enough horror stories about decks, houses and body parts going on fire to make sure I heeded the warning. After bringing the oil to a briskly bubbling 350-degrees, I used my high-tech nylon-rope-and-ratchet mechanism to lower the bird into the pot. There were all sorts of horrifying gurgles and billows of smoke, but the ensuing aroma was enough to know that the sacrifices were well worth it. The smoke smelled bacon-like at first, but once the bubbles returned my yard was full of the garlicky, pepper-infused scent of rub I used. Every time the wind picked up my nostrils were pummeled with the delicious sent of meat and spices. After experiencing this, I couldn’t imagine who wouldn’t put their limbs on the line to eat 22-pounds of fried fowl? 
About an hour later we pulled out the bird. I probably could have left it in a bit longer to achieve are deeper brown, crunchy skin, but we were starving and all the booze was taking its toll. After making sure the bird was fully cooked, I pulled her out and set her up to rest. The turkey was a hearty bronze, crisp to the touch with a strong savory aroma. Being the methodical cook I am, I had trays of parboiled fries and breaded zucchini ready to go. As we waited on the resting bird, I stood out in the cold waiting for the oil to reach temperature; this is where I encountered a few problems:
Three gallons of turkey fat filled oil takes some time to reach 350 degrees. While this isn’t any ground breaking news, when there are 6 people waiting to eat it becomes a problem. I prematurely dumped the taters in the oil and pulled them out cooked but limp. As I spread them out under the broiler, I administered a similar slop-job frying to the zucchini (they were destined to be finished on the stove). The table was full of carved turkey, corn bread, cranberry sauce, bean salad and beers so I couldn’t keep everyone waiting. We sat down and dug in.Again, all I can say is that you must fry at least one turkey in your life. The skin is unbelievable—dark, crispy and fragrant—while the meat is juicy. Even the traditionally overcooked and dry breast meat remains moist and flavorful. Combine the delicious crust with the soft interior and you have the makings of a great meal. Also, if you break it down 1-2 hours of frying is much quicker than the mandatory 3+ hours for a traditional roasted bird. Start convincing your family to bypass the oven and fry next year’s turkey. If you do, I’ll swing by to help and bring the beer.
There are a few interesting events coming up soon for me. To start, I am attending a beer dinner hosted by Garret Oliver of the Brooklyn Brewery on Thursday. Also, I’ve received word from CityDusk, a new events company in Manhattan that I’ll be working/writing for, that my first event will be going down January 20th. We are still working out some details, but I can guarantee you it will be awesome and involve delicious beer.Despite these ridiculously awesome coming-soons, I am happier to report that I will be having some friends over for a GiveThanksAgainGiving Day. Basically, I decided that I really want to fry a turkey and since the Thanksgiving is now really far away—and I don’t think my family would want to stand out in the cold with me while attending a vat of hot, boiling oil—I am going to have some friends enjoy a delicious fried feast with me. A year or two ago I found this schematic for a safe way to fry turkey via Alton Brown. However, you can rest assure that I will be using a coat hanger to lower my turkey into 350-degrees of hot fat.Pictures coming soon.
There is an article in The New Yorker called, "A Better Brew: The rise of extreme beer." At first glance this article seems to focus on extreme beers—the super-hoppy, highly-alcoholic beverages lovingly called imperials, doubles and any other assortment of fear inducing titles. I was happy to find, however, that it delves into the relationship between craft brewers and other beer making entities. Focusing on Sam Calagione, head brewer for the extremely experimental but deliciously rewarding brewery Dogfish Head, the piece gives readers a hearty insight to the mindset of American brewers today. I definitely recommend it.
Read this article immediately; it is a letter from Michael Pollan to Obama. One thing I love of Pollan is his ability to bridge the gap between the past and present. Food is one of the most common denominators between every person, everywhere and in every time period…ever. We need to preserve some of our agricultural history while preventing more food related problems from popping up in the future. While I don’t think all of these suggestions will come to be, they sure would right a lot of wrongs. Even if you disagree with what Pollan is saying, you can’t deny that every will taste better.
I would like to introduce you to the book pictured above—The Brewmaster’s Table by Garret Oliver, the honorable master brewer of Brooklyn Brewery and leader in beer education. I have been reading—studying, actually—the fine pages of the deliciously crafted book nonstop recently. My studies have prevented me from writing much but I think you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me since I’ve been meticulously testing out the beers mentioned in this indispensable tome.Need to know what to serve with quail, wild boar or game pigeon? This book has it. Interested in the history of monastic Trappist brewery? It’s all there. Just about any question you may have on beer—from the history of styles to pairings—can be found here. I can’t heap enough praise on Mr. Oliver for this magnificent work of thirst-quenching delight.If you are interested in learning more about Mr. Oliver, I have two suggestions. The first is to read this article on beer and the holidays titled Beer Trumps Wine on Holiday Tables. For the past few years I’ve noticed that the bottles of wine I’ve been drinking at Thanksgiving were being used more to wash the turkey down than compliment it. After a few experiments of my own in the past months, I feel that I am getting the hang of this beer/food thing and can’t wait to unleash my arsenal of tasty brews to my unsuspecting family. The second suggestion—and one which I am almost giddy about—is an upcoming beer tasting featuring none other than the man himself. On December 4th at 7pm, Garret Oliver will be pairing up with chef Jacques Gautier of Palo Santo Restaurant in park Slope, Brooklyn. I made reservations but have no idea who will be accompanying me. Five course of pure bliss; I can’t wait.
Dear Mas,I just want to say thank you, thank you, thank you! You found it in your heart to give me another chance and sample the delights you create day in and day out. I know I got into that accident last time we were supposed to meet, so I left you hanging. However, you proved the better person and gave me another shot. You cannot understand how enthralled I was when I found out there was a reservation at 9:30 last Wednesday and all I had to do was show up with a case of beer for Matt and the chefs in the back. Mas, everything was delicious! I want to thank you especially for the pork belly dish. Your charming interpretation of bacon and eggs makes me remember why I like you so much to begin with. Serving a juicy and sumptuous strip of pork belly with a poached egg yolk on top of Italian polenta—you’re so clever! I also loved the Pacific Halibut wrapped in leeks and that Yellowfin Tuna O’ccidental. That Chamblis you gave me just was spot-on with the fish, too. It made me think of how classy you can be without forgetting your foundations. You aren’t like the others, Mas. You really know how to make me feel special. Who else would invite me in at 9:30 and let me stay until 1 in the morning? Or serve me 10-plus courses without making me decided what I wanted to eat? You really are top-notch and I look forward to our next date. Until then, try not to impress those other people too much. You know I have my eye on you.Thanks again, I’ll never forget it,Justin
PS: Sometimes I look at the few pictures I have when I miss you.
A year ago a close friend of mine traveled to Munich while studying in Italy. When he returned to the States, I was regaled with tales of hours spent in the beer halls abroad. Long nights in large open buildings, filled with old wooden tables, jovial people and heavy steins brimming with delicious frothy brew. Ever since I heard of these stories, I’ve longed to travel to Germany and experience these mythical places for myself. I never made it to Deutschland while living in Spain and the miserable Dollar-to-Euro ratio prevented some shoddy plans I had to travel to Oktoberfest this year. Despite these setbacks, there was a silver lining on the beer filled cloud of my dreams. The lucky residents of New York—my humble self included—have not one, but two locations to indulge our—but more importantly, my—Germanophile and beer garden filled fantasies: Bohemian Hall & Beer Garden in Astoria and Radegast Hall and Biergarten in Williamsburg. My fantasy was recently fulfilled at the Radegast Hall. This is the newer of the two (it opened this past year) and from what my I’ve-been-to-real-halls-in-Munich-friend tells me the less authentic of the pair. A man named Ivan Kohut has a hand in both of the bars, and super authentic or not, I had a great time. Apparently, Mr. Kohut’s wife, Joanna, is a personal chef who created the menu and I must give praise to the woman for the grub.Although my party stuck to appetizers and I wasn’t able to sample any entrees (we were there to drink after all) I finally had the chance to chomp down some Steak Tartare. I tried the trout salad, the pate and the charcuterie and cheese plate but the tartare is what I enjoy spilling the beans about. I’ve heard about the dish before and have been jonesing to try it ever since I’ve read various beer hounds accounts of sampling the plate in halls across Europe. Although I’ve seen it multiple times on menus at upscale restaurants, nothing beats a big plate of beef to accompany your liter of dunkleweisse.
If you are unfamiliar with Tartare it’s very simple to explain: take good steak, grind it up, toss an egg yolk on top, season and serve with condiments. There is no cooking involved! You sprinkle on some onion, relish, mustard, Worcestershire sauce or whatever else is available, mix it up and toss it on some bread or other tasty vessel to transport the goodness from plate to mouth. While some my cringe and cry out the dangers of eating raw meat, I say try the stuff before bad mouthing it. As long as you can trust your sources and know you are eating good beef, you aren’t going to die. Granted, if I drop dead tomorrow you may have an argument against me, but until then, go order up some tartare, a stein and daydream about Oktoberfest.
…is not too difficult. If you can get your hands on a frying setup, the cooking itself is a cakewalk. Granted, I wouldn’t want to do it everyday—cleaning it up is a hassle—but if you have a few good folks around it is worth the effort. 
