How A Food Scientist Cooks Thanksgiving
SPATCHCOCKING FTW
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This post was originally published in 2015.

As Serious Eats's culinary nerd-in-residence, J. Kenji López-Alt focuses on the science behind beloved American dishes, delving into the interactions between heat, energy, and molecules that create great food. Kenji was here on Digg answering Thanksgiving-prep-related questions from users. Check out his answers here!

This year add some science to your Thanksgiving table with these tips for your turkey, stuffing, gravy, and cranberry sauce from Kenji's New York Times bestselling cookbook The Food Lab: Better Home Cooking Through Science.

First, Why Trust Me?

When I chime in on online message boards, when I write blog posts that make some pretty bold claims (like, say, that frying in hotter oil actually makes food absorb more grease, not less), I often get the same questions shot back at me: Says who? Why should I trust you? I've been cooking my food [X] way since before you were born, who are you to say that there's a better way?

Well, there are a number of answers I could give to this question: It's my job to study food, test it, and answer questions about it. I have a degree from one of the top engineering schools in the country. I spent a good eight years cooking behind the stoves of some of the best restaurants in the country. I've edited recipes and articles in food magazines and on websites for almost a decade. These are all pretty good reasons to put your faith in what I say, but the truth of the matter is this: you shouldn't trust me.

Truth of the matter is this: you shouldn't trust me.

You see, "Just trust me" was the way of the old cooks. The MO of the master-apprentice relationship. Do what I say and do it now, because I say so. And that's exactly the mentality I'm trying to fight here. I want you to be skeptical. Science is built on skepticism. Galileo didn't come to the conclusion that the Earth revolves around the sun, not the other way around, by blindly accepting what everyone else was telling him. He challenged conventional wisdom, came up with new hypotheses to describe the world around him, tested those hypotheses, and then and only then did he ask people to believe in the madness that he was spouting from behind that awesome beard of his. He did, of course, die under house arrest after being tried by the Roman Inquisition for all of his troubles. (Let's hope that doesn't happen to any of you budding kitchen scientists.) And that was for something as trivial as describing the shape of the solar system. Meanwhile, we're here tackling the big issues. Turkey and stuffing deserve at least as much scrutiny!

The point is this: if at any time you come across something I've written that just doesn't seem right, something that seems as if it hasn't been sufficiently tested, something that isn't rigorously explained, then I fully expect you to call me out on it. Test it for yourself. Make your own hypotheses and design your own experiments. Heck, just e-mail me and tell me where you think I went wrong. I'll appreciate it. Honestly.

Photo: The Food Lab: Better Home Cooking Through Science 

On To The Turkey

Turkey gets a bum rap, and I blame it all on Thanksgiving.

Roast turkey is one of the few foods that we often only prepare once a year, and, as a result, most people never really get too good at cooking it. Year after year, we gather around the holiday table, thinking about that turkey like we think about our family members: one of those things we just have to put up with before the wine and the pie kick in.

It's a crying shame, because turkey is one of my favorite birds to eat, and it's a great inexpensive option that should be on the roster year-round. (Turkey Association of America, you can mail that check to my home address.) It's got more flavor than chicken, and everyone knows that nothing beats leftover turkey for making soups, sandwiches, and all manner of treats for the rest of the week.

In theory, roasting a turkey is not all that different from roasting a chicken — the same basic problems and solutions apply — it's just a matter of adjusting scale and timing.

If you follow food media, you may notice that every single year, every magazine, blog, and television show comes out with a brand-new recipe for roast turkey, claiming it as the be-all-end-all-world's-best-you'll-never-need-another recipe. Until the next year rolls around. Now, one could give them all the benefit of the doubt and assume that every year they're telling the truth. If so, what a happy world we live in, for, year after year, the quality of our roast turkeys is progressing on a never-ending, sure-and-steady upward path toward perfection.

Or you could go for the real answer: we food writers are all liars.

There's no one best way to cook a turkey, and anybody who tells you different is selling something.

OK, so it's not so bad as all that. The truth is, there's no one best way to cook a turkey, and anybody who tells you different is selling something, most likely a magazine or book (*wink wink*). There is a near-endless list of goals and restrictions, based on the tastes, skills, and time constraints of different home cooks, and thus a near-endless supply of recipes for turkey. Some people want that perfect golden brown centerpiece in the middle of the table. Some want their share of stuffing, moist with drippings. Others care only for the meat, pushing even the crispest, crackliest, saltiest bits of skin off to the side of their plates (we shall speak no more of these heathens).

As with anything else, the key to perfect poultry is knowledge, care, and some practice. I can't help you with the last, but I just might be able to lend a hand in the first two categories. In researching the subject for The Food Lab, I roasted well over sixty birds, no two the same way — and that's not counting the hundreds, if not thousands, I've cooked in my lifetime.

Whether it's a young chicken with just enough meat on its bones to make a hearty meal for two or the Thanksgiving centerpiece for a family of twelve, the basics of selecting and cooking a chicken or a turkey are not all that different.

Buying The Turkey

A bird's a bird's a bird, right? Well, not necessarily — chickens and turkeys come in all shapes, sizes, and breeds, not to mention the various ways they are slaughtered, chilled, packaged, processed, and sold around the country. So you've got to make a lot of choices before you even begin to think about how to cook 'em.

How big a turkey should I get?

Plan on about 1 pound of raw turkey per person, which translates to around half a pound of meat. In terms of flavor and ease of preparation, I find that the best birds are around 10 to 12 pounds, or even smaller. Much bigger, and they become very difficult to cook evenly. Large birds also take an inordinately long time, are difficult to transfer to and from the oven (not to mention trying to flip them), take up more oven space, and are more prone to drying out — all bad things when you've also got to deal with a houseful of family members, and Junior's just stolen Gramps's dentures and dropped them in Aunt Mabel's wine.

If you've got many mouths to feed, unless there's absolutely no way to get 'em in the oven, it's always a better idea to go with two smaller birds than one large one.

Reading The Labels

There are so many labels and logos on the average supermarket bird that it's hard to figure out what each means and which ones are important. What should I look for?

Here's what you need to know.

• "Hormone-Free" means absolutely nothing. I repeat: absolutely nothing. By law, no chicken or turkey in the United States can be given any kind of hormones or steroids, so every chicken and turkey in the supermarket is completely free of added hormones. The labeling is a marketing gimmick to get you to think you are getting something special. It might as well read "deadly cyanide free," because, yes, all poultry sold in this country is also free of deadly cyanide.

• "Natural" has very little meaning as well; it refers to birds that have no artificial colorings or additives and are minimally processed. Natural birds are routinely confined and raised in large batteries that offer no natural light or access to the outdoors. Unless you are buying rainbow-tinted birds, fresh meat — with no added ingredients — should be considered "natural." This is a self-enforced label and is not checked by third-party or government audits.

"Hormone-Free" means absolutely nothing.

"No Antibiotics" bears more weight than either of the two previous labels, indicating that the animals were raised without the use of antibiotics. There are arguments on both sides as to whether this is healthier for the consumer or for the birds.

"Fresh" means that the meat has never been frozen (for poultry, freezing temperature is around 26°F, due to dissolved solids in its cells). Of course, some supermarkets do keep their stock cases colder than this minimum temperature, and you might find that the bird in the back of the case is frozen solid. A good way to determine whether or not the bird has been frozen is to check the packaging: Freezing damages cell structure and can cause interior liquids to leak out. If the packaging has lots of juices in it, chances are your bird was frozen. Move along.

"Cage-Free" birds have been raised in large open barns rather than confined to small cages. However, this term does not guarantee they had any access to the outdoors, nor does it guarantee an improved stocking density (the number of chickens housed in a given space) or protection against debeaking, a painful procedure chickens are put through in order to prevent them from injuring each other when kept in close confinement. Chances are good that these birds were raised in cramped, crowded conditions.

"Free-Range" or "Free-Roaming" birds have been raised in large open barns with limited access to the outdoors via a door to an outdoor coop; often this is a single small door in a cavernous barn. While they are certainly better off than birds raised in cages, it's very likely that most "free-range" bids have not actually ever stepped foot outside. Even if they have, there's no guarantee that they've seen grass or pasture — that outside space can be dirt, gravel, or even concrete.

"Organic" standards for birds are enforced by the government. By law, organic birds must be raised on a 100-percent-organic diet, must not be caged, and must have access to pasture and sunlight. Antibiotics are not allowed, and the animals must be "treated in a way that reduces stress," an ambiguous term that's generally agreed to mean a bit more space and an environment that promotes a few of their natural behaviors, like stretching their wings and enjoying dirt baths.

The table below summarizes all of this data:

Photo: The Food Lab: Better Home Cooking Through Science 

The USDA makes no claims that organic foods are healthier than conventional foods, but it's pretty clear that organic production is healthier for the birds and the environment. If these matters concern you, choose Certified Organic birds at the market or, at the very least, birds that come from a reputable source that you trust. Many small and large farms that are both environmentally conscious and have a humane approach to animal welfare choose not to join the Organic program because of the fees involved or because they can't meet one of the standards (with small farms, this is often the "no antibiotics" standard, because the farmers will administer them to sick birds). Birds from such farms can still be a great choice.

It's holiday time and I'm looking for a great turkey. I often see labels that say "self-basting" or "enhanced"— what do these mean?


These labels are far more common with turkeys, but you may occasionally see them on chickens as well. The birds are injected with a flavored brine intended to help them retain more moisture as they cook — and it works. There's a reason why Butterballs stay so moist, even when they're drastically overcooked. My only problem with them is that the added liquid dilutes the natural flavor of the meat and often gives it a spongy quality. And many of the brands that offer "enhanced" birds, like Butterball or Jenny-O, use relatively flavorless factory-farmed birds, which doesn't help. Personally, I avoid these birds. Look for any fine print that says "enhanced," or check the ingredients list to make sure it doesn't include anything besides turkey or chicken.

My supermarket carries only water-chilled chickens. Is there anything I can do to get them to cook better?

Certainly. The key is to remove as much excess moisture as possible before cooking them. As soon as you take the bird out of the package, rinse it and blot dry with paper towels inside and out, then place on a rack (set on a platter or baking sheet) in the fridge for several hours, or even overnight. The dry air of the fridge and the air circulation caused by its fan will help your chicken or turkey shed excess moisture — though don't expect it to ever get crisp as a truly air-chilled bird.

My Favorite Poultry Cooking Method: Spatchcocking

Photo: The Food Lab: Better Home Cooking Through Science 

I'm gonna come right out and say it: this is the best way to cook a bird, hands down. It's now the only method I ever use. I understand that some folks like to see a whole bird arrive at the table looking like a whole bird, but if I had my way, the gospel of spatchcocked birds would spread around the world.

To butterfly (a less fancy term for spatchcock) a bird, all you've got to do is use a pair of sharp poultry shears to cut out the spine, then flatten it, with its skin side up, by pressing down firmly on the breastbone. Voilà, that's it! It's a really simple operation that you'll get the hang of in no time, and it even works for turkeys.

Here's how cooking the bird works: Put the bird skin side up on a rack set in a rimmed baking sheet. Blast it in a hot oven (I'm talking 450°F), and you'll find that, miraculously, the breast will reach 150°F just as the legs reach 170°F and the skin reaches delicious. No brining, no salting, no flipping, no problems.

As I said, you do lose the prettiness of bringing a whole bird to the table for carving, but you gain the vastly preferable prettiness of perfectly cooked meat instead, and that's a trade-off I'll take any day. Its advantages are numerous.

Advantage 1: Flat Shape = Even Cooking

Butterflying the bird and laying it out flat, with the legs spread out to the sides, means that what were once the most protected parts of the bird (the thighs and drumsticks) are now the most exposed. As a result, they cook faster — precisely what you want when your goal is cooking the dark meat to a higher temperature than the light meat.

As an added bonus, the bird doesn't take up nearly as much vertical space in your oven, which means that if you wanted to, you could even cook two birds at once. This is a much better strategy for moist meat than trying to cook one massive bird.

Advantage 2: All the Skin on Top = Juicier Meat and Crisper Skin


A regular chicken (or turkey) can be approximated as a sphere, with the meat on the inside and the skin on the outside. Because it's resting on a roasting pan or baking sheet, one side of that sphere will always cook more than the other.

A spatchcocked chicken, on the other hand, resembles a cuboid, in which the top surface is skin and most of the volume is meat. This leads to three end results: First, all of the skin is exposed to the full heat of the oven the whole time. There is no skin hiding underneath, no underbelly to worry about. Second, there is ample room for the rendering fat to drip out from under the skin and into the pan below. This makes for skin that ends up thinner and crisper. Finally, all of that dripping fat distributes heat energy over the meat as it cooks, both helping it to cook more evenly and creating a temperature buffer, protecting the meat from drying out.

Advantage 3: Thinner Profile = Faster Cooking


In terms of cooking, a sphere is the least efficient shape — that is, for a given mass, it's the shape that'll take the longest for heat to penetrate through to the center. Because of this, a regular roast chicken can take an hour or more to cook, a turkey several hours. But with a spatchcocked bird and its slim profile, you can blast it at 450°F and it'll cook through in about half the time. If I added up all the time I could have saved in Thanksgivings past using this method, I could perhaps — dare I say it — rule the world?

Advantage 4: It's Easier to Carve

Carving a whole chicken can be a tricky affair. Its shape makes it tough to find an angle where you can get good leverage, and I usually resort to flip-flopping the bird around a few times as I carve it. A spatchcocked bird, on the other hand, is simple. The legs nearly fall off all on their own, requiring just a little tug and a single slice with the knife. Rather than having to flip or turn the bird to get at the wings, the laid-flat breasts expose them to you, making it easy to get them off without having to lift the chicken from the board. Even the breasts are easier to remove from the carcass, as it lies completely flat and still while you work.

Advantage 5: Extra Bones = Better Gravy

It's always possible to make gravy or "jus" with nothing but canned chicken stock and drippings, but gravy is so much better when you have some real bones and meat to work with. Normally that means using the neck and giblets to flavor the broth while the bird roasts. You can still do that. But this way, you can add the entire bird's back to the mix, resulting in a far more flavorful broth.

Stuff It!

You may have heard from various reputable sources that stuffing a bird before roasting it is a bad idea. There's no problem with stuffing the neck cavity — it's in the interior of the bird that safety issues arise. Even though it might be safe to consume your stuffing itself at a lower cooking temperature than the turkey or chicken as the bird roasts, its raw juices can drip down into the stuffing, contaminating it. So, in order to be completely safe, your stuffing must come up to at least the same 145° to 150°F you're gonna cook your bird to. Unfortunately, because the stuffing is in the very center of the bird, by the time it is cooked through, your bird is overcooked.

There is, however, a solution, though it's a slightly tricky one: cook the bird from the outside and the inside. What you've got to do is stuff the bird with hot stuffing just before roasting. That's right: bring your stuffing all the way up to at least 180°F (to compensate for the heat it will lose while you're working with it) and, while it's still hot, jam it into the bird's cavity. The easiest way to do this is to form a cheesecloth pouch inside the turkey, stuff that pouch, tie it off, remove it, and microwave it on a plate, then put it back in the turkey before roasting.

Not only does the method give you stuffing that's perfectly safe to eat (so long as it never dips below 145°F while it is roasting, and it shouldn't), but it'll also help your turkey cook more evenly, insulating its breasts from the inside so that they cook a little more slowly and end up coming to temperature at the same time that the legs do. Of course, in my family, we still need an entire tray of stuffing on the side, because there can never be enough.

Gravy Tips

You don't need to make your own stock. Sure, in an ideal world, when you have the time and inclination, making your own stock by browning the chopped carcass and neck of your bird and simmering it with lots of vegetables is the best way to make gravy. But a good-quality low-sodium store-bought chicken stock makes a flavorful base for a homemade gravy that's far better than the jarred stuff. Even if you are planning on using your turkey neck and scraps (highly recommended!), use stock to simmer them instead of water, for an instant flavor boost.

Make your gravy in advance! The gravy can be made at least a few days before Thanksgiving. Get your bird ahead of time, and you'll have the neck and giblets to work with. Make your gravy on Monday or Tuesday, then refrigerate it and don't even think about it until Turkey Day. It'll reheat well in a small saucepan or in the microwave (stir it every 30 seconds while microwaving to make sure it doesn't explode).

When used judiciously, Marmite and soy sauce can seriously increase flavor, adding depth and savoriness to your gravy. A quarter teaspoon of Marmite and a teaspoon of soy sauce for every quart of gravy is about the right amount.

Add aromatics. If going the store-bought broth route, try first simmering it down with a couple of bay leaves, peppercorns, and some fresh herbs, like thyme or parsley stems. You'll be amazed at the depth of flavor it picks up with just a quick 30-minute simmer.

Deglaze your roasting pan. Remember that your turkey or chicken will give off plenty of flavorful liquids and solids while it's roasting. Look at the bottom of the pan when the bird is done — see the browned bits in there? That's called fond, and it is an instant gravy-booster. While your bird is resting, place the roasting pan over a burner and pour in some stock. Scrape up the browned bits with a wooden spoon, then strain and use this enhanced stock as the base for your gravy. If you make your gravy in advance, you can give it a last-minute boost by deglazing the pan with a little stock and whisking it into the gravy just before serving.

Thicken the right way. To thicken 4 cups gravy, melt 4 tablespoons unsalted butter in a medium skillet over medium heat. Add 1⁄4 cup all-purpose flour and cook, stirring constantly with a wooden spoon, until you have a nice golden blond color, which will add some nuttiness. Slowly add your stock, whisking constantly. The harder you whisk and the more slowly you add the stock, the smoother your gravy will be. Once you've added all the liquid, bring it up to a boil, then reduce it to a simmer and let it cook down, stirring occasionally, until it gets to the right consistency. Season it at the end with salt and pepper (seasoning too early can lead to the salt concentrating and becoming too strong).

Really Easy Cranberry Sauce

Photo: The Food Lab: Better Home Cooking Through Science 

I understand the appeal of canned jellied cranberry sauce.

It plops out of the can, has those pretty ridges, and can be sliced up and placed right in the center of a plateful of curly parsley. It's got a kind of Betty Crocker appeal to it. But whole-berry sauce in a can or jar? Why, when homemade is so much better, and blindingly simple to do?

Here's why to make it yourself: first off, cranberries are extremely high in pectin. This is the cellular glue that holds plants together and is the primary jelling agent in jellies. Unlike most other berries, which require you to add powdered or liquid pectin to get the requisite jell level, cranberries already contain the perfect amount. That means that all you've got to do is cook them down with some sugar, and just a touch of water to get them started, and they basically do all the work themselves, setting into a jelly all on their own.

Cranberries and cranberry sauce also have an extremely long shelf life. In part due to their high acidity, in addition to naturally high levels of anti-microbial phenolic compounds, fresh cranberries can keep for weeks (if not months) in the refrigerator. I make my Thanksgiving cranberry sauce at least a week ahead of time. Then it sits in the fridge, no problem, and saves me from having to think about it on Turkey Day. Which is not to say you should restrict yourself to serving cranberry sauce only on Thanksgiving: it makes an awesome accompaniment for grilled or roasted pork and chicken, sausages, or meatballs.

Finally, making cranberry sauce yourself lets you adjust the flavorings any way you like 'em. I'm a purist at heart, so my sauce most often contains nothing but cranberries and sugar, with perhaps the occasional hint of cinnamon (cranberries contain spicy phenolic compounds similar to those in cinnamon, so the flavors go quite well together).

But here are a few more ideas:

Orange. Replace the water in the recipe with orange juice. Add a couple teaspoons of grated orange zest along with the cranberries.

Ginger. Add a teaspoon of grated fresh ginger along with the cranberries, then finish the sauce by stirring in a tablespoon of finely diced crystallized ginger.

Spices. Cinnamon, as I mentioned, works well, as does grated nutmeg or ground allspice or cloves. Start with a pinch and work your way up until it tastes the way you like it. A bit of vanilla or spiced rum added toward the end of cooking will also spice things up a bit.

Dried fruits. A handful of raisins or currants can add texture and flavor. Add them right at the beginning to allow them to soften.

Nuts. Toasted almonds, pecans, pistachios, or walnuts, roughly chopped and mixed into the sauce at the end, make a classic pairing.

Recipe: Easy Cranberry Sauce

(Makes about 2 cups)

4 cups fresh or frozen cranberries

1⁄2 cup water


1 cup sugar


1⁄4 teaspoon ground cinnamon (optional)

1⁄4 teaspoon kosher salt

1. Combine all the ingredients in a medium saucepan, bring to a boil over medium-high heat and cook, stirring occasionally with a wooden spoon, until the berries start to pop. Mash the berries against the side of the pan with the spoon, then continue to cook, stirring occasionally, until the berries are completely broken down and have achieved a jam-like consistency. Remove from the heat and allow to cool for about 30 minutes.

2. Stir in water in 1-tablespoon increments to adjust to the desired consistency.

Thanksgiving Bonus: How To Remove The Wishbone From A Turkey

Removing the wishbone before roasting the bird makes carving it much easier. It's optional for a roast

Photo: The Food Lab: Better Home Cooking Through Science 

Step 1: Locate the Wishbone

This step takes place before you start cooking the turkey. It's even more important with a turkey than with a chicken, making your carving job at the table far easier. Start by pulling back the flap of skin at the neck and finding the small Y-shaped bone that runs along the top of both breast halves.

Photo: The Food Lab: Better Home Cooking Through Science 

Step 2: First Incision

Make your first cut on one side of one branch in the wishbone with the tip of a sharp boning, chef's, or paring knife.

Photo: The Food Lab: Better Home Cooking Through Science 

Step 3: The Other Side

Repeat on the other side of the same branch, running the tip of the knife along it. Repeat on the opposite branch, making 4 incisions total.

Photo: The Food Lab: Better Home Cooking Through Science 

Step 4: Pry it Loose

Grab the top of the bone with your fingers or a dry kitchen towel and pry it toward you. It should come out with just a bit of a tug. If you are having trouble, locate the problem spots and use the tip of your knife to loosen it further. Once the bone is out, roast your turkey.

Photo: The Food Lab: Better Home Cooking Through Science 

Excerpted from The Food Lab: Better Home Cooking Through Science by J. Kenji López-Alt. Copyright © 2015 by J. Kenji López-Alt. With permission of the publisher, W. W. Norton & Company, Inc. All rights reserved.

 

<p>As Serious Eats's culinary nerd-in-residence, Kenji López-Alt focuses on the science behind beloved American dishes, delving into the interactions between heat, energy, and molecules that create great food.&nbsp;</p>

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