Talking Turkey
Christmas might be a time
for die-hard traditions, but
according to Nathan Budd,
it might be worth thinking long
and hard about the centrepiece
of your festive feast...
Merely floating the idea of not having turkey this Christmas will be met by shock, disbelief and suspicion. And, after the gasps, the shaking of heads and the weak smiles have subsided, two immortal phrases will be rattled out like tired old bottles of Christmas sherry: “but we always have turkey” followed and now in a more whiny voice with: “it’s tra-dish-in-aaall ”.
I’m not quite sure how, as a nation, we got stuck with dry, emaciated meat for the most important meal of the year? Yes, yes, I’ve had good turkey, free-range, well bred, cooked quickly, breast-side down, covered in bacon, rested for two hours and all that, but it’s still not good enough to warrant such a place in our culture. Eating something because you always have done is simply no reason to continue. Expertly devised, the “only once a year” defence, is employed when a traditionalist turkey lover is on the back foot. This approach is genius, not least because of its face-value defence, which let’s face it is weak, but because it plays on one important fact: a year is just long enough for you to forget that you don’t actually like turkey.
For me, it’s pigs-in-blankets, chestnut stuffing, red cabbage and sauces that are the steal the show, the turkey merely a vehicle for the “trimmings”. My grandparents rose before the sun on Christmas morning to ensure the bird was cooked for a good 8 hours before presenting it at the table. For this reason, rich gravies, bread sauce, moist sausage meat, stuffing and latterly cranberry sauce, were as much lubricants as accompaniments. To them, turkey was the staple of Christmas, but it wasn’t always the case.
Not too long ago the simple chicken was the bird of choice for many-a-households festive lunch, but unfortunately, the ubiquitous and inexpensive nature of the bird has removed the idea of roast chicken being a celebratory meal. Similarly, goose, such a wonderfully rich and intense bird, is both demanding to cook and feeds far fewer for its size, and has consequently fallen out of favour.
Take a whirl around the globe and you will find a veritable smorgasbord of delights at this time of year. The Norwegians celebrate Christmas with pork ribs, as do the Icelandic, marrying it with reindeer and smoked lamb. In Finland and Sweden, ham is the traditional Christmas Eve meal, accompanied by herring, liver and brown beans. In Denmark, pork loin is favoured, served with crackling and often alongside goose and duck.
Like the Germans, the Czechs eat carp and potato salad. In Russia it’s meat dumplings (what else) eaten on Christmas Day, which incidentally, is on 7th January, for those adhering to the Russian orthodox calendar. In the Transylvanian region of Romania, the Christmas Eve feast is stuffed cabbage; and (if that wasn’t bad enough) they eat it again on Christmas Day. Even the Americans, surely to blame for the profusion of turkey at Christmas, tend towards ham.
So what will I be having? This year, goose may once again grace the Budd table, but perhaps this time with a duck, or some pork and most definitely roasted ham. In fact why not roast a fore-rib of beef, or an indulgent loin of venison, some lamb, or even fish? After all, Christmas is about enjoying the food on your table, not blindly following traditions. As long as it’s local, free-range and produced with love and care, it doesn’t have to be what you’ve always had; it just has to taste good. And, if you really do like turkey, have it.
After all, you always have it; it’s traditional and come on, it’s only once a year. Merry Christmas!
Merely floating the idea of not having turkey this Christmas will be met by shock, disbelief and suspicion. And, after the gasps, the shaking of heads and the weak smiles have subsided, two immortal phrases will be rattled out like tired old bottles of Christmas sherry: “but we always have turkey” followed and now in a more whiny voice with: “it’s tra-dish-in-aaall ”.
I’m not quite sure how, as a nation, we got stuck with dry, emaciated meat for the most important meal of the year? Yes, yes, I’ve had good turkey, free-range, well bred, cooked quickly, breast-side down, covered in bacon, rested for two hours and all that, but it’s still not good enough to warrant such a place in our culture. Eating something because you always have done is simply no reason to continue. Expertly devised, the “only once a year” defence, is employed when a traditionalist turkey lover is on the back foot. This approach is genius, not least because of its face-value defence, which let’s face it is weak, but because it plays on one important fact: a year is just long enough for you to forget that you don’t actually like turkey.
For me, it’s pigs-in-blankets, chestnut stuffing, red cabbage and sauces that are the steal the show, the turkey merely a vehicle for the “trimmings”. My grandparents rose before the sun on Christmas morning to ensure the bird was cooked for a good 8 hours before presenting it at the table. For this reason, rich gravies, bread sauce, moist sausage meat, stuffing and latterly cranberry sauce, were as much lubricants as accompaniments. To them, turkey was the staple of Christmas, but it wasn’t always the case.
Not too long ago the simple chicken was the bird of choice for many-a-households festive lunch, but unfortunately, the ubiquitous and inexpensive nature of the bird has removed the idea of roast chicken being a celebratory meal. Similarly, goose, such a wonderfully rich and intense bird, is both demanding to cook and feeds far fewer for its size, and has consequently fallen out of favour.
Take a whirl around the globe and you will find a veritable smorgasbord of delights at this time of year. The Norwegians celebrate Christmas with pork ribs, as do the Icelandic, marrying it with reindeer and smoked lamb. In Finland and Sweden, ham is the traditional Christmas Eve meal, accompanied by herring, liver and brown beans. In Denmark, pork loin is favoured, served with crackling and often alongside goose and duck.
Like the Germans, the Czechs eat carp and potato salad. In Russia it’s meat dumplings (what else) eaten on Christmas Day, which incidentally, is on 7th January, for those adhering to the Russian orthodox calendar. In the Transylvanian region of Romania, the Christmas Eve feast is stuffed cabbage; and (if that wasn’t bad enough) they eat it again on Christmas Day. Even the Americans, surely to blame for the profusion of turkey at Christmas, tend towards ham.
So what will I be having? This year, goose may once again grace the Budd table, but perhaps this time with a duck, or some pork and most definitely roasted ham. In fact why not roast a fore-rib of beef, or an indulgent loin of venison, some lamb, or even fish? After all, Christmas is about enjoying the food on your table, not blindly following traditions. As long as it’s local, free-range and produced with love and care, it doesn’t have to be what you’ve always had; it just has to taste good. And, if you really do like turkey, have it.
After all, you always have it; it’s traditional and come on, it’s only once a year. Merry Christmas!