Thanksgiving 2024

Thanksgiving 2024: Caul Fat, Tsurumen Crew, and the Perfect Turkey

It's Thanksgiving again. The Tsurumen crew is coming over. My daughter's friend's family too. Time to cook.

This year's turkey? Fifteen pounds, brined, wrapped in caul fat. That's my method now.

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The Brine

One day before Thanksgiving, I started the brine. Spiced brine blend with water, brought to a boil, then cooled completely. The turkey went into a brining bag, fully submerged, sealed tight. Into the fridge.

twelve hours. That's the sweet spot. Enough time for the salt and spices to penetrate deep into the meat, breaking down proteins, keeping everything moist.

The Caul Fat

On the day of Thanksgiving, I pulled the turkey out. Rinsed it thoroughly under cold water. Patted it completely dry - inside and out.

Then I rubbed it down with smoky peppercorn and herb seasoning. Not just on top of the skin. UNDER the skin. I worked my fingers between the skin and breast meat, rubbing the spices directly onto the flesh.

Then came the caul fat. I draped it over the entire bird - that delicate, lacy membrane of pork fat covering the breast, the legs, everything. This is the secret. The caul fat bastes the turkey as it cooks. Keeps the meat incredibly moist. Creates a golden, crispy skin without any basting.

No basting. No opening the oven every twenty minutes. Just set it and let the caul fat do its work.

The Build

6 AM. Turkey into the oven at 325°F. Tented with foil for the first few hours to prevent over-browning.

While it roasts, I'm working through the sides. Boston baked beans- overnight in the Dutch oven until they're falling apart. Roasted kabocha squash with maple syrup. Brussels sprouts roasted until crispy and caramelized. Green beans blanched and sautéed with garlic. Asparagus roasted at high heat.

Cranberry sauce. Mashed potatoes. Gravy from the turkey drippings.

Every burner is going. The kitchen smells incredible.

The Moment

By 4 PM, the turkey is done. Internal temp: 165°F. I pull it out and tent it with foil. Let it rest for thirty minutes.

The Tsurumen guys walk in. My daughter's friend's family arrives. Everyone gathers in the kitchen.

One of them sees the spread. "Dude. Asian Thanksgiving looks LEGIT."

I laugh. "It's just Thanksgiving."

The Taste

We carve the turkey. The meat is ridiculously tender. Juicy. The brine did its job. But the caul fat? That's what makes the difference. The skin is golden and crispy. The meat underneath is succulent, almost buttery.

Everyone takes a bite. Silence. Then:

"This is the best turkey I've ever had."

That's what proper technique does. Brine for moisture. Caul fat for richness. No shortcuts.

The Tradition

I didn't grow up with Thanksgiving. But this is my tradition now. Every year, the same process. Brine. Caul fat. Cook everything from scratch.

My kids are growing up with this. They'll remember these dinners. The smell of roasting turkey. The house full of people. The food made with care.

That's what matters.

The Spread: Everything From Scratch

While the turkey rests, I finish everything else.

Green beans - blanched, then sautéed with butter and garlic. Brussels sprouts - roasted until the outer leaves are crispy. Lentils cooked with aromatics. Roasted carrots - multiple colors because why not make it beautiful? Sweet potatoes. Cranberry sauce - homemade, not from a can. Gravy made from the drippings.

The whole spread covers the kitchen counter. Cast iron pans. Dutch ovens. Roasting trays. It looks chaotic but it's orchestrated. Everything finishes at the same time.

People always ask, "Why do you cook Thanksgiving alone?

This is MY thing. This is the one day I get to execute a massive culinary project from start to finish. Brining to roasting to baking to that final sandwich.

This is Thanksgiving with my gratitude.