There are four reasons i don’t have a dog. The first reason is i have had to put two down, and i don’t plan to have another until i am absolutely sure i will go first.
The second reason is related to the first as i do not want the burden of trying to take care of a dog while Maureen and i are traveling quite a bit.
The third reason is i am not sure i want another dog unless i can be sure the last one will be exactly like my middle one. My first (and my ex-wife’s as we got her for our wedding present to each other; but she recognized the bond and allowed me to keep the dog) was an Old English Sheepdog we named “Lady Snooks of Joy” paying homage to her ancestry and my Uncle Snooks Hall. i loved Snooks, even loved the 45-minutes of daily combing to which i adhered most of the time. i have numerous fond memories of her exploits. The last dog Maureen and i had, Lena, was a wonderful dog who did a lot of amazing things. Her affection for us was unbounded and the affection was returned.
Then there was Cass. Cass was my dog.
He was named for Ike McCaslin, the protagonist in William Faulkner’s “The Bear.” It turned out he reminded me of “Lion,” the dog in the story, the bear, and Ike himself.
Cass was a Labrador. Technically, he was a yellow lab, but his coat was golden in color.
Cass was an independent cuss who, for all practical purposes, flunked two obedience classes, the basic in Florida, and the advanced in El Cajon. He loved children anywhere, anytime. He loved people in general, and i don’t recall any incident of him even growling at a person.
Cass would take on any other dogs if they stumbled into his territory, which included two dobermans at one time, and a 125# German Shepard. He bowled over o’possums. He played with coyotes. He chased roadrunners, and damn near broke my arm almost catching one on a trail just east of our old home. He body surfed on Coronado’s dog beach (and would gather an audience from 50 to 100 beachgoers to watch).
Cass would run away at any opportunity. Boy, would he run away. But i would know he was running down the canyon and through a neighborhood at the bottom of the hill to an open space. i would get in my “family truckster” (as my older daughter labeled my mini-van), drive the two miles to the open space, and open the door. Cass would jump in, his tongue and tail wagging, and ride happily in the shotgun seat back to the house.
i don’t think there will ever be one like him for me. Hence, i am reluctant to get another.
The fourth reason is also due to Cass. He did not eat a turkey, but once, he did clean two marinated pork chops off the kitchen counter as i was preparing the grill for cooking. And when i smoked my first turkey with Maureen, i did use the bucket, normally his water dish, for marinating the turkey.
So Cass was the inspiration for the dog in this recipe. And as long as i am smoking turkeys for Thanksgiving, i don’t wish to have to use the dog’s water dish.
This recipe has been published several times. i am thinking of republishing it every Thanksgiving as JB Leftwich published a recipe of his mother’s (i think) for a Christmas column (i think) every year. – Okay, one of you Leftwich’s, keep me straight on this. So i am starting my tradition in honor of Coach, and, of course, Cass.
This particular version was a column for The Lebanon Democrat:
Notes from the Southwest Corner: Thanksgiving Apologies to the Barefoot Contessa
SAN DIEGO—Holidays, except for the weather, are pretty much the same for me out here in the southwest corner or back in Tennessee. To start, no one will let me smoke the turkey.
When I was growing up in Lebanon, and every time I return there for a holiday, my mother cooks the turkey. When there are only a few of us there, she makes a chicken taste like a turkey. She roasts the turkey, or the chicken, in the oven, and it comes complete with dressing and gravy. When we have a holiday out here, my wife cooks the turkey the same way my mother cooks the turkey. Every Thanksgiving and Christmas, I volunteer to cook the turkey. Every year, whether in Tennessee or out here in the Southwest corner, whoever is in charge of turkeys says no. They profess to love the turkey the way I fix it, but they say another time would be better. They say they want a traditional turkey.
I picked up turkey cooking while I was spending some considerable time about two-thirds of the way between here in the southwest corner and Tennessee. The Colonel, grandfather of my older daughter, lived up in Paris, Texas, and he fed me my first smoked turkey. I loved it. Since then, I have modified his recipe somewhat and do cook one fine smoked turkey. Since I can’t have it out here or in Tennessee, I thought someone with fewer traditionalists in their immediate family might like to have the recipe to try for the holidays.
Smoking a Turkey
- A turkey. This is fairly important to the success of the whole affair. Pick a good one. The critical part is to make sure it will fit in the smoker
- 1 container large enough to hold the turkey and cover it with the magic elixir. I’ve been known to use a plastic bucket, but sometimes the dog gets upset as we normally use it for his water dish. This is okay as long as we stay out of biting reach of the dog for two or three days.
- 1 smoker, probably any kind that claims to be a smoker and any number of possible jury rigs would work; however, if I were using a “Weber” or like vessel, I would make sure that there was extra water in the smoker).
- 1 bottle of beer. Beer in longnecks is preferable but one should not become too concerned about the type of beer as “Lone Star” is a bit too elegant for this type of cooking. Besides, we wouldn’t want to waste a beer worth drinking on some dumb turkey. If one is desperate and doesn’t mind subjecting oneself to abject humiliation, it is permissible to stoop to using a can of beer.
- 1\2 cup of Madeira. Again, I wouldn’t be overly concerned about the quality of the wine, and in truth, any red wine is probably okay. However, I would stay away from “Night Train” wine as it has been known to eat through barbeque grills, smokers, and anything made of material weaker than that used in hulls of nuclear submarines. But it is cheap.
- Angostura bitters
- Worcestershire sauce
- Chili powder
- Undoubtedly, there are numerous items that I have forgotten to list here, but that’s okay as it really depends on what your individual taste is — I don’t suggest substituting low fat milk for the beer, but most everything else is probably okay — and if it’s really important, I’ll realize I left it out when I get to the narrative of how to use all this stuff and include the forgotten ingredient there.
Thaw the turkey. Take all those weird things that they put in those plastic packages inside the turkey and cook them in a skillet without the plastic packages, turning them frequently. Then feed what you just cooked to the dog. It might placate him enough to keep him from biting you for taking away his water bucket. If there are traditionalists in the bunch, give the stuff to them rather than the dog and let them make gravy.
Put the turkey in large container. Pour beer and Madeira over turkey. If you have not allowed about 24 hours for the turkey to thaw or about 8-12 hours for marinating the turkey, call your invited guests and advise them that the celebration will be about two days later than indicated on the original invitation.
Sprinkle other ingredients over the turkey. Be plentiful. It’s almost impossible to get too much.
Crunch the garlic cloves I didn’t mention in the ingredients and add to the container. I normally use about four normal sized cloves for a normal sized turkey. Also add the previously omitted bay leaves, about 6-8 for that same normal sized bird.
Add enough water to cover the turkey although it probably wouldn’t be a disaster if a leg partially stuck out. Then put the container in a safe place, unless of course, you want the dog to be rapturously happy and not bite you until long after his teeth have fallen out.
Allow to sit undisturbed for 6-10 hours (longer is better and ten hours is not necessarily the upper limit but exceeding ten hours may have some impact on when you either eat or get tired of the turkey taking up all that safe space).
Put the turkey on smoker grill above water pan after lighting the charcoal (one or two coals burning well is the best condition for the charcoal) and placing soaked hickory chips, which I also forgot to mention, earlier on the charcoal — again, be plentiful — after soaking the chips for at least 30 minutes. Pour remaining magic elixir over the turkey into the water pan. Add as much water to the water pan as possible without overflowing and putting out the fire below. Cover. Do not touch. Do not look. Do not peek…unless it doesn’t start to smoke in about thirty minutes. Then peek. If it’s smoking, leave alone for at least six hours for a large normal sized turkey. It is almost impossible to overcook if you have added enough water at the outset. You should check and add water or charcoal throughout the process. I have found that mesquite charcoal is the best, as it burns hotter. Regular charcoal will do fine but will require more checking.
The secret to the whole process is to cook extremely slow, as slow as possible and still start the fire.
Serve turkey, preferably without the garlic cloves or bay leaves. Now is the time for “Night Train” wine or the good beer. Serve “Night Train” very cold as indicated on the label.
The turkey’s also good cold.
Shoot the dog.
i was kidding about the last paragraph. Have a wonderful Thanksgiving…and give thanks for what we have.