Nov. 24, 2011 at 11:51am
David Segalthanksgivingturkey
David Segal, my father, loved Thanksgiving. Along with Passover, it is one of two holidays always spent with his cousins. If someone else was hosting that year we’d go and have a great time but we would also do the entire thing all over again when we got home to Vermont, inviting friends for dinner. Even if we were hosting we’d still do it twice— that’s how much he enjoyed this meal— carving up half of the turkey on Thursday and the other half on Saturday. His strategy was to get a forty pound turkey from a farm over the mountain and build a fire so hot in the wood cookstove that shorts were the only practical attire for the day. After years of practice and maneuvering, I think we established that a forty-two pound turkey was the largest bird that could fit in that oven. He was adamant about how he roasted his bird— basting was a silly waste of time, the only thing you really needed to do besides keep your fire hot enough was flip your bird over so it would get crispy on all sides. Stuffing was an art, something he took very seriously, and if baked outside of the bird it was called dressing. Gravy was another art, something he thickened with arrow root. Chopped liver was a delicacy, a favorite in our house and among the cousins. David Segal would turn one turkey into two full turkey dinners and soups for over a month, freezing the carcass and making it last. There would be turkey and rice soups, matzoh ball soup, bean soups made with turkey stock and as many different kinds of beans as he could find. For lunch, and sometimes dinner, he liked to make hot open-faced turkey sandwiches. For these he would keep a pot on the stove with gravy and pieces of turkey, pushed off to the side where the temperature was a little bit lower but where it wouldn’t take long to have your meal ready.  This is our first Thanksgiving without him. As I write this I have pumpkin pies cooling, cranberry relish in the fridge, turkey necks in a pot as the beginning of a stock, freshly-churned gelato in the freezer, and chopped liver made just the way he liked it in the fridge. One of the things I’m most grateful for in life is learning how to cook and bake from both of my parents. David Segal, that funny little man who loved his giant turkeys, left an enormous void behind in March. It feels even bigger today. 

David Segal, my father, loved Thanksgiving. Along with Passover, it is one of two holidays always spent with his cousins. If someone else was hosting that year we’d go and have a great time but we would also do the entire thing all over again when we got home to Vermont, inviting friends for dinner. Even if we were hosting we’d still do it twice— that’s how much he enjoyed this meal— carving up half of the turkey on Thursday and the other half on Saturday.

His strategy was to get a forty pound turkey from a farm over the mountain and build a fire so hot in the wood cookstove that shorts were the only practical attire for the day. After years of practice and maneuvering, I think we established that a forty-two pound turkey was the largest bird that could fit in that oven. He was adamant about how he roasted his bird— basting was a silly waste of time, the only thing you really needed to do besides keep your fire hot enough was flip your bird over so it would get crispy on all sides. Stuffing was an art, something he took very seriously, and if baked outside of the bird it was called dressing. Gravy was another art, something he thickened with arrow root. Chopped liver was a delicacy, a favorite in our house and among the cousins.

David Segal would turn one turkey into two full turkey dinners and soups for over a month, freezing the carcass and making it last. There would be turkey and rice soups, matzoh ball soup, bean soups made with turkey stock and as many different kinds of beans as he could find. For lunch, and sometimes dinner, he liked to make hot open-faced turkey sandwiches. For these he would keep a pot on the stove with gravy and pieces of turkey, pushed off to the side where the temperature was a little bit lower but where it wouldn’t take long to have your meal ready. 

This is our first Thanksgiving without him. As I write this I have pumpkin pies cooling, cranberry relish in the fridge, turkey necks in a pot as the beginning of a stock, freshly-churned gelato in the freezer, and chopped liver made just the way he liked it in the fridge. One of the things I’m most grateful for in life is learning how to cook and bake from both of my parents. David Segal, that funny little man who loved his giant turkeys, left an enormous void behind in March. It feels even bigger today.