Roast Turkey Dip

A sandwich to be thankful for.

I’m thankful for this episode of KOTH: S5E4.

We did it! We survived Thanksgiving and it’s officially time to don the holiday spirit. I hope you’re reading this in your coziest soft pants with a steaming mug of good cheer in one hand and a remote control in the other, about to hit play on either Die Hard or The Muppet Christmas Carol. If you’re lucky, you have a cornucopia of traditional Thanksgiving leftovers in the fridge. I’m not as lucky. I’m writing this in the past (last Monday, to be exact), but I’m certain my fridge will be devoid. I never roast turkey, or make green bean casserole or any of the other Thanksgiving hoohah unless I’m home for the holidays; in which case I still don’t, because that’s my dad’s job. He has turkey-roasting down to a science (he is a scientist, so that makes sense). It involves an overnight brine, flavored butter injections, sliced apples and no less than a pound of bacon. I wouldn’t dare try to usurp him from his throne of Turkey bones. And I wouldn’t want to even if I could.

My dad’s seat at the Thanksgiving table looks similar to this, except instead of swords, it’s made of Turkey bones.

His turkey from last year, ready for the oven. For some reason I never photographed the finished version, probably because I was too busy eating snacks come carving time.

When I stay in LA and Thanksgive with friends, which is what I did this year, I alway make lasagna. The tradition started during covid lockdown when I made an entire pan just for me. (Here’s a link to the process on my Instagram story highlights, it’s some of my best work¹.) That was one of my favorite Thanksgivings. Nothing feels more indulgent than making a lasagna from scratch just for yourself. It comes second only to a one-person caviar platter, complete with blinis, quail eggs and fresh fried potato chips. That was also something I made just for myself during lockdown, and it remains one of my favorite New Year’s Eves ever. I do love a party of one.

The only downside of making lasagna for Thanksgiving this year is I don’t get any of those scrumptious leftovers. The turkey, the gravy, the mashed potatoes and gravy. The stuffing covered in gravy. A hint of sweetness from the cranberry sauce. It’s all sacred. Especially the gravy. And the leftovers always taste better than the main meal. It’s because of science. Chemical reactions continue to pop off as the food sits, allowing flavors to meld and develop. Meat reabsorbs juice, harsh flavors mellow out while subtle flavors are enhanced, plus, with leftovers, you get to experience the meal with a fresh palate - one that hasn’t been blown out from tasting and/or smelling the food that’s been cooking all day. So, while I rue the fact that I can’t make one of my all-time favorite sandwiches today, I do hope you’ll make it.

Don’t be a dip...MAKE a dip!

There’s no need to follow the recipe exactly. If you have extra stuffing or sweet potatoes, slather some on. If you don’t like cheese, skip it. The only thing you really need to make this are your leftover turkey bones so you can make the stock for the dip. From there, let the finished sandwich be your throne, kind of like my dad does with his turkey bones. Or maybe the sandwich would be your crown. Actually, not sure this analogy works, but you get the idea. It’s fit for a king. I’ll be back the week after next with some more recipes from the Holidaze series, because December is just around the corner. I’m thankful for all of you for being here!

Stay messy,

McBroom

1. A more user-friendly version of this lasagna would eventually become Elizabeth Zott’s lasagna from Lessons in Chemistry. You can get that recipe here.