Ten More Twisted Holiday Tips You Probably Won't Find Anywhere Else

It seems that every holiday season, magazines, newspapers, radio & TV commentators, and even bloggers make it a point to post tips that will save us time and money in the kitchen and beyond. However, I'm finding that many of the holiday tips offered over the years are becoming annoyingly redundant.

I mean, how many times have you read, "Be sure to remove your newly-purchased frozen turkey from the plastic bag before roasting."?

Or "To reduce the chance of a Christmas Eve fire, hang your stockings on the outside of the fireplace."?

And how about "Don't lick frozen flagpoles. Geez, didn't you learn anything from A Christmas Story?"?

I already sense some of you nodding your heads. I rest my case.

That's why last year I determined that I would break free from the mold and offer holiday tips that you probably won't find anywhere else (see: http://bit.ly/ssH8KW and http://bit.ly/gpk5OR).

And let me tell you, it was a smashing success. Comments ranged from the glowing, "Just two of your tips saved me so much time and money that I was able to take the whole family to Cancun over the holidays" to the semi-glowing "Mr. Caterson, you are one sick puppy. Stay away from my family."

So, in light of this new holiday tradition, I'm more than pleased to offer yet another 10 holiday tips you won't find anywhere else. These are the lessons I've learned. Consider them my gift to you. Enjoy!

1. Do you hate those wire-mesh contraptions that enwrap the plastic "corks" of grocery store champagne bottles? Me, too. But even though many of us would consider it a time saver, opening these bottles with a bolt cutter will deflate any cheer that may be hovering in the yuletide air.

2. Buying someone a gift subscription to a magazine may be a good idea - but only if they have an interest in the theme of the magazine. (I've often ordered gift subscriptions to Saveur or Bon Appetit for my cooking friends.) Just cuz you happen to enjoy bowhunting in the nude or, perhaps, amassing a world class collection of empty toilet paper tubes, does not mean that everyone else on your Christmas list shares the same passion. So it's best not to order subscriptions to Crossbows and Chicks or The Charmin Cardboard Connoisseur for anyone but yourself.

3. My family has always been frugal and "green" so we thought it would be cool to wrap our Christmas gifts with the Sunday comics. Think about it. They're colorful, cheap and they always have the potential to elicit a few laughs before being ripped to shreds. However, using old copies of Crossbows and Chicks in the name of frugality will not win you any green points from your conservation-minded family members. Especially if the kids are young. Say, under 23. Or if any family members have ever exhibited any signs of good taste.

4. Putting out a cold glass of milk along with a plate of Ex-Lax laced chocolate chip cookies seemed like a good idea when your creepy Uncle Larry dressed up to play Santa Claus. (You remember Uncle Larry, he's the guy who, in order to be frugal, wrapped all your gifts in Crossbows and Chicks magazine covers). But it wasn't a good idea to do the same thing when your oh-so-cool Uncle Leland dressed up as Santa that one year. (You remember Uncle Leland. He's the guy who bought you that new XBox 360 wrapped up in the Sunday funnies.)

5. Some leftovers are great to take home when you leave a big holiday feast. I'm thinking turkey, ham, or pumpkin pie. But some leftovers are best just, well, left. I'm thinking of the homemade Fried Baloney Soup and the Pineapple Upside Down Beans that Aunt Frieda and Cousin Elly foisted upon the family last holiday season.

6. And speaking of leftovers, if you really enjoy them (and who doesn't?) perhaps you should forgo roasting another turkey for Christmas and opt, instead, for an emu. The drumsticks alone will feed a family of five for a whole month.

7. And while we're on the topic of holiday food traditions, candied yams are not really made with candy, so you can put away all those bags of candy corn you have left over from Halloween. I know, I know, sticking them all over the sweet potatoes makes them look like a herd of little orange porcupines, but it does not make them candied yams.

8. I love real Christmas trees. I know that they can be a pain with all the sap and falling needles, but you really can't beat the aroma that a real fir brings to the home. However, buying an artificial tree and festooning it with a dozen pine air fresheners from the local car wash won't hold a candle to the real thing. Not even remotely so.

9. Do you want everyone in the family to love you? Find a great recipe for chocolate chip cookies and whip up a huge batch. Just be sure to leave out the Ex-Lax. Even if that creepy Uncle Larry shows up.

10. And while we are talking about Christmas trees, gifts, and glorious chocolate chip cookies, let me leave you with this: things may not be as you wished they were, but the party...you're party...would not be complete without you. This is what folks who are more sagacious than I call Grace. Heck, the great novelist Frederick Buechner said it better than I ever could. So pour a glass of wine and reflect on his words. And in doing so, may this year's Christmas be, oh, so merry!

“The grace of God means something like: Here is your life. You might never have been, but you are because the party wouldn't have been complete without you. Here is the world. Beautiful and terrible things will happen. Don't be afraid. I am with you. Nothing can ever separate us. It's for you I created the universe. I love you. There's only one catch. Like any other gift, the gift of grace can be yours only if you'll reach out and take it. Maybe being able to reach out and take it is a gift too.”

Merry Christmas, everyone!

Excuse Me While I Chill Some Wine and Take a Few Moments to Tebow.

If you've followed NFL football at all this season, you've probably come across a phenomenon that sports pundits and fans alike have labeled "Tebowing."

For those of you who've had better things to do than watch a multi-billion dollar industry amass another multi-billion dollars this fall, let me explain:

Tim Tebow is a fairly new Denver Bronco quarterback who once led the Florida Gators to glory and, at times, choses to thank God for his success on the field by falling to one knee in prayer. Folks call this "Tebowing."

Then someone, somewhere, thought it would make a good joke. Players on opposing teams mocked him by falling to one knee. TV talk show guests guffawed. Folks on YouTube re-enacted it. It went viral.

But hey, God and sports are not a new phenomenon.

I've been a football fan since I was old enough to change channels on the TV. I can remember more than a few players expressing their thanks to the "Man Upstairs" on the field.  I saw and heard many in the 60's "testify." I remember several players who flashed "Jesus One Way" signs in the 70's.

And Tebow wasn't the first player to drop to a knee to give honor to God after a good play. Heck, when I was in college in south Florida there were a number of the invincible and undefeated Miami Dolphins who attended bible studies at my alma mater and were not ashamed about doing so (can you say Captain Crunch Mike Kolen?)

Or how 'bout all those place kickers through the years whose names end in vowels crossing themselves before a field goal attempt?

And what's up with that wild-haired Polamalu fellah from the Steelers whose spirituality would give some desert monks a run for their money?

Okay. Let me get to my point.

I would never think about asking any of them to stop doing these things even if I may not completely understand it all. Because I know that their faith drives them and it makes them who they are. To take that away or seek to diminish it would be robbing them of their inspiration. (Order up the flick Chariots of Fire on Netflix if I've lost you. No, wait. Order it up anyway. It's that good.)

So I say let Tebow or any other faith-filled sportsperson take a knee, whether Christian, Muslim or Jew. It's who they are. At least they realize that their talent, somehow, is a gift that's been entrusted to them.

And now let us move on to culinary excellence.

I've met more than a few great chefs over the past 30 years and not many would take a knee for anything, not even to wipe up a spill. They were so full of themselves that one has to wonder how there'd be enough room in the kitchen for a decent skillet, let alone a sous chef.

It's funny, but for some reason, those of us who are great in the kitchen feel we're great because we...well, dammit...are just great, thank you very much.

And as the wonderful aromas fill the kitchen space around us "talented" chefs, egos rise like a fine souffle.

I'm not having any of it.

For me, culinary expertise is a gift just like any talent. The ability to taste, to tweak, to cook is all on loan. Those of us so blessed are responsible to hone it. But I haven't met many chefs who feel that way. To them it's self-induced and self-constructed and, therefore, allows for a good bit of ego-inflation.

But not all.

I've met some who understand that their talent with a skillet, olive oil, onions and garlic is a gift. And they're humbled by that fact.

I long to count myself among their number.

So if my next meal pleases the palates of my guests? Perhaps you just might catch a glimpse of me "Tebowing" in the darkness of my pantry. Because being thankful for whatever talent I might have is something I will strive for.

A few days ago we celebrated Thanksgiving. Who did you give thanks to? I know I'm trying to gain some perspective on this whole talent thing. And I think I'm starting to get it.

But...If the mere mention of "God-thanks" ticks you off, then take a knee and Tebow for me.  :-)

For the rest of us? I have some wine chilled. Now...which one of us will plate and who will say grace?

Tofurkey: Who Invented This and Why Do They Hate Us So?

According to a leading online encyclopedia, "tofurkey" is a portmanteau word of tofu and turkey. (For those of you who don't know, "portmanteau" is the French word for the blending of two silly sounding words into one sillier sounding word.)

In essence tofurkey is faux turkey (for those of you who don't know, "faux" is the French word for ridiculous) – a loaf made of tofu, filled with a stuffing made from grains flavored with a broth, and seasoned with herbs and spices.

As someone who is always trying to eat healthier, I picked one up for the holidays and eagerly placed it into the oven just as my guests began to arrive. We poured some cocktails and engaged in conversation as an unusual aroma wafted from through our home. At the appointed time, we all moved to the kitchen and I removed the tofurkey from the oven. It glistened as I lifted it from the roasting pan and onto my carving board. One guest looked over my shoulder and in a voice that could only be described as awe whispered,  "Il a l'air d'un fichu désastre" (which I'm sure is French for "It looks delectably delicious").

We filled up our plates and took our seats around the table. After a toast and a blessing we dug in.

Then we looked at each other.

Then we spat it out and reached for our glasses of wine.

It wasn't delectably delicious.

At least not as a stand-in for Tom Turkey.

Perhaps if they called it "Glory Morning's Big Hunk O' Tofu" or even "Serenity Farm's Self-Basting Thanksgiving Wad" it might've tasted better because we wouldn't have been expecting the taste of roast turkey on our palates.

Because here's the deal for me: I love vegetarian food and I make it often, but I love it on its own terms. The minute someone tries to create something that it clearly is not (i.e. imitation turkey, hot dogs, bacon, etc) I'm immediately put off because I know that a tofu dog will resemble a real Coney Island hot dog as much as that new Fiat they've been peddling on TV will resemble a real car.

So yes, if you invite me over for Thanksgiving this year I'll be sure to bring along some garlic smashed potatoes and my famous mashed rutabagas with apple sauce. But please promise me that you'll leave the tofurkey in the grocer's cooler and pick up a frozen a real Tom Turkey. You might not hear someone whispering "Il a l'air d'un fichu désastre" over your shoulder, but I guarantee your guests will love you for it.

Now here are three questions that I often get asked whenever we start preparing for the holidays.

Bon Appetit!


How long can I keep a frozen turkey in my freezer?

During the holidays we may often have more than one frozen turkey lying around. Perhaps you wanted to take advantage of a good sale or you received a company turkey as a gift after you already purchased one. At the risk of having turkey every night from Thanksgiving to President's Day, you must store the extras. If you have room, and your freezer is cold (as in 0 degrees) you can safely store a frozen turkey almost indefinitely. However, just because it is safe to store a frozen turkey until the cows come home, it doesn't mean that it's a good idea to do so. Quality is another matter. If the texture and taste of turkey are important to you then it would be best to cook the turkey within a year. If taste and texture are not important to you then I would forgo the cost of buying a turkey and would instead freeze a chunk of foam rubber, it's cheaper and can be readily found at your local upholstery shop. Just be sure to make lots of really good gravy.

Can I make gravy without pan drippings?

I love to make gravy from pan drippings. Cookbooks are loaded with recipes for great pan gravies. But what if you have more leftover turkey (or beef or chicken) than you have gravy? Can you make gravy without the drippings? Absolutely. And although it is not as good as if you made it from the drippings, this recipe is down right good and will certainly do in a pinch.

Gravy Without Pan Drippings

Prep Time: 5 minutes                        Cook Time: 15 - 20 minutes

Ingredients:

4 tablespoons unsalted butter
1/4-cup all-purpose flour
2 cups soup base or canned broth of choice (beef, chicken, turkey)
1/4  teaspoon salt
1/4-teaspoon pepper
1 teaspoon Kitchen Bouquet (for color and flavor)

Directions:

1. Melt butter in a small saucepan over medium heat. Add flour and whisk together, making sure to get all visible lumps. This is will produce a roux which is the foundation for gravy and many other sauces. Add salt and pepper and continue to cook, stirring constantly for 2 - 3 minutes so that the roux looses its raw, flour smell. This will produce a light roux. The longer you cook the roux, the darker it will become. Therefore, your roux for chicken gravy will be light, turkey will be darker, and beef will be even darker still.

2. Turn heat to low and slowly add broth, stirring constantly.

3. Add Kitchen Bouquet and turn heat back up to medium. Continue stirring until gravy boils and thickens.

Makes 2 cups.

I have a small kitchen, should I make my turkey or roast a day ahead of time?

If you're like many of us, your kitchen may not be conducive to creating a large feast, especially if you only have one oven. So it might sound like a good idea to cook your turkey or roast a day ahead of time and then reheat it after you've created the side dishes. While this may make sense in concept, it's really not the best option.

I would reverse things and cook your side dishes a day ahead, wrap them tight and refrigerate them. The next day I would cook the turkey or roast and after it's done and allowed to stand for 15 - 30 minutes, I would put my sides in the oven to reheat. The texture of the turkey or roast will be far better than if you prepared it a day ahead of time. Besides, if you made enough, you'll have plenty of opportunity to delve into the leftovers, so why start your signature meal off with leftovers?

Variety Is the Spice of Life

This oft-repeated quote is usually attributed to William Cowper and can be found in his poem: The Task (Book 2, line 285).

However, some scholars point to the Marquis de Sade who is reputed to have said: "Only two ropes? My goodness, woman, let's make it four. After all, the more spice, the hotter the sauce."

While other scholars attribute it to that inimitable Bronx sage, Yogi Berra, who was heard to have said while ordering a pizza at Sal's on West 49th: "Gimme the works. Extra cheese. Extra sauce. And the more spice. The better."

But we'll let the scholars duke that one out. Me? I'm all about variety and spice.

For instance.

I made a Black Bean and Shrimp Bisque the other night. Just like I have a gazillion times before. But this time I didn't have any sherry to 'finish' it. But I made it anyway. No one complained. In fact, there were a couple of raves.

But I knew something was missing. You see, I've tasted it with the sherry.

Of course, you've probably prepared dishes where you were short an ingredient or two. I know I have. And it's usually the little ingredients. A shot of sherry here. A 1/2 teaspoon of thyme there. One bay leaf instead of two.

No one usually notices. Except those who have savored the dish in it's completeness.

It's funny how a shot of wine or a pinch or sprinkle of spices and herbs can transform a dish from something that is delicious to one that is extraordinary.

And such is life, eh?

I think about all those brilliant, obnoxious, loving, honest, or grating people who have been a part of my life, even for just a moment, whose influences have transformed what would've been a delicious life into an extraordinary one. Those whose comments, ideas or physical shoves have nudged me into places I may not have ventured into on my own.

Just like that chef who first wondered, "I wonder how a shot of dry sherry would improve this?" And then did it. And then savored it. And then served it to his or her guests.

So the next time I'm preparing a Black Bean and Shrimp Bisque, I'll think about the nuances that other chefs have added based on instinct. And then I'll think about what additions I would make to improve it. Then I'll consider all those who have crossed my path whose words and/or actions have made me what I am today.

And at that point I'm reminded that, perhaps I should let them know.

Perhaps you should, too.

How about this: next week we agree to send a note, drop a line, or send an e-mail to those who have added some spice to our lives. Those whose counsel encouraged us to make monumental decisions. Or even those whose word helped us surmount a great obstacle. Or perhaps those whose shoulder invited us to weep when nothing else was available.

I would imagine they would love to hear from the likes of us.

I know I enjoy hearing from those whose lives I've touched (although I rarely knew at the time) in a positive way.

Heck. I know we each have dozens of folk who've nudged and prodded us. Folks who've spiced up and improved our lives.

Now let's spice up theirs by letting them know what a bang up job they did.

Hey, it's just a thought.

Now hand me that cumin and cayenne. I'm ready for a little spice myself tonight.

Bon appetit!

Warren Caterson

• BLACK BEAN AND SHRIMP BISQUE •

I’ve always loved black bean soup. It’s such a simple and hearty dish. Here
we take it up a notch with the addition of shrimp. This is good enough for
company. So double it or triple it.

PREP: 10 minutes     COOK: 1 hour

INGREDIENTS
1 can black beans, drained
2 tablespoons olive oil
1/2 cup chopped onion
1 large carrot, coarsely grated
1 stalk celery, diced
1 clove garlic, crushed
1/4 teaspoon basil
1/4 teaspoon oregano
1/4 teaspoon thyme
1 medium tomato, peeled, cored and diced
2 cups shrimp or chicken broth
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
1/4 pound cooked shrimp
2 tablespoons sherry
1 tablespoon chopped fresh parsley

DIRECTIONS
1. Heat oil in a medium Dutch oven or large saucepan over medium
heat and sauté the onions, carrots and celery until very tender, about
15 minutes. Add the garlic, basil, oregano and thyme and sauté an
additional 3 – 5 minutes.
2. Add the tomatoes and broth, cover and simmer for 15 minutes.
3. Stir in beans and simmer an additional 15 minutes. Stir in shrimp and sherry and reheat to steaming (do not boil) about 3 more minutes.