Dinner on the Fly

Back when I was in my late 20s, I had an evaluation for a leadership position for an aviation outfit I worked for.  It was something no woman had ever held, and certainly not anyone my age.  I'd like to say I was cool and collected, but I was nervous as could be.  At any point in the interview, I expected the next thing out of my mouth to be "Beer" or "Donut".   The senior folks read through my resume (oh please, please tell me I used the word "Statistical" and not "Sadistical") and commented on the recent MBA (not my first choice in studies, but I knew that just being a science geek or a pilot isn't a guarantee of leadership positions later).  They also mentioned my age (back in those days, you didn't have HR breathing down your neck, going "Good Heavens, man, you can't ask THAT question?)

After the technical-type questions, for which I did O (why yes, I CAN give a discourse on retrating blade stall and fully articulating rotor systems), came the deal-breaker: "Describe your organizational skills."

I thought of all those university classes, I thought of Peter Drucker's books and multi-attribute utility diagrams; I thought of getting a big box of an airplane across a big desert with steam gauges and sweat. One never forgets those flights, suspended in space, hanging from a point between mobility and absolute motion, thinking there is no better job as you chase the wind, knowing it's too good to last. I thought of budgets and acquisitions and purchase orders, and how none of them do you any good when you're looking down at 200 miles of open water, the EICAS panel lit up like a Christmas tree, and everyone is looking at you to make a decision before the other one flames out.

All those things I thought, but what came out of my mouth without pausing for breath was "I once cooked Thanksgiving dinner for 23 pilots, including real mashed potatoes and pie without a microwave, and everything was hot on the table at the same time.

"Oh, Crap, did I just SAY that?"  I thought as I felt a breeze on my cheek, the axe falling, most likely. What's next, a conversation about dishware and shoes?

But I got the position.  A couple of days later, I was riding herd on several hundred people.  I hoped they didn't all expect pie.

So, for tonight, a little lesson on creativity and timing.  Sometimes it all comes together, sometimes it's "Hello Aurelio's?"  There are a million cookbooks out there, but some of the best meals are when you just get creative with what's in the kitchen. Sure, there is the occasional disaster (duck wings and chicken wings do NOT cook for the same amount of time unless you have a craving for rubber bands, and you too can make fresh-caught fish taste JUST like elastic by ignoring the instructions).  But, after taking some instruction from cookbooks and with practice, most folks can learn to craft such a meal without resorting to a sodium-drenched frozen something that costs three times as much as making it yourself.

It started with a pack of two turkey tenderloins I got as a (buy one - get one free) for $10, some fresh veggies, and some dry goods. 

 I said, "Tenderloin with garlic sliced in a chardonnay sauce?" and Partner in Grime said, "stuffing with onion and celery as a bed?" and it went from there.

It ended up as this.

Turkey Tenderloin in White Wine Reduction with Garlic and Mushrooms served on Onion/Sage stuffing with Walnut Roasted Sweet Potatoes with Pear Cinnamon Balsamic glaze. 

No recipe, no rules, and two big thumbs up.

Start with the tenderloin(s).  Marinate in a dab of olive oil and a little lemon juice, then rub with garlic and roast until not quite done (about 10 minutes less than the package directions, still pink in the middle). While that cooks, chop a couple of large sweet potatoes into two-inch chunks, toss with a little walnut oil, and place in a cooking pan. While you're in chopping mode, chop 1 1/2 onions (the half onion into small pieces and the whole one into larger chunks) and chop 2-3 stalks of celery.  Throw the whole onion, cut into larger pieces, with the potatoes.  I have these nifty Ceramic knives that Old NFO gave me many years back that make it easy. Preheat oven to the temperature on the tenderloin package.

Get out a box of Stove Top stuffing (normally I make my own, but I got this for a buck on clearance), put water and butter per directions in a pan with 1/2 teaspoon of sage, and set on a cold burner.

Sauté the celery and the half onion bits in a pan with a little EVOO until the celery is JUST starting to get limp and the onion is starting to caramelize.  Toss the celery and onion mixture into the stuffing water, then put the pan back on a cold burner.

About now, the timer for the turkey should go off.  Remove it from the oven and let it cool slightly, then slice it.  Place the potatoes in the oven, raise the temperature to 375°F, and set the timer for 30 minutes.

Turn the heat on the water for the stuffing to a warm setting (you want it to heat, not simmer).  In the same pan you sauteed the onions and celery, saute some sliced mushrooms and a child-sized handful of fresh basil.  When the mushrooms are starting to soften, drain off any liquid and add 3/4 cup of white wine (the alcohol will cook off, but you can substitute apple juice), and a splash of lemon juice. Stir until the liquid begins to cook down slightly. Place turkey slices on top and let it finish cooking, stirring occasionally to let the wine reduction cook down, adding 2-3 tablespoons of butter at the end to thicken. Leave the pan on low, stirring occasionally, while the potatoes finish.

When the timer goes off for the potatoes (or when they start to get soft), drizzle 1/4 cup Cinnamon Pear Balsamic Vinegar over the top (available from Saratoga Olive Oil Company online).  Stir and return to the oven for 10 minutes, or until the center is soft when poked with a fork.

Raise the heat under the veggie-infused stuffing water to boiling, then add the stuffing mix.  Stir, cover, and remove from heat.

When potatoes are done, everything is done. Serve turkey over stuffing with sweet potatoes. Drizzle any extra juice from the glazed potatoes over the turkey and stuffing. 

It might not be dinner for 23. It may just be dinner with your best friends of the two and four-legged variety; time to laugh, time to shed the worries of the week, watching them all fly away as toasts are made and thanks is given.