Get in a deep horse stance in front of a hot, open, oven door. Breathe out… breathe in. Grip wads of paper towels in both hands, and lift the unwieldy, 20 pound ball of 350 degree grease off a searing hot roasting rack. Lift with the legs, not the back. Rotate the hot grease ball a quarter turn to ensure evenly browned, crisp skin. Repeat at least four times, or until the medicine ball is cooked through.
I avoided this oven roasted turkey ritual this year by smoking my main course outdoors in a Weber Smokey Mountain cooker. And forget turkey. Even brined, butter slathered, free range, never frozen, organic, heritage birds aren’t as flavorful as a beefy prime rib. So as with my cranberry sauce recipe, I continue to stomp on tradition with my entree.
I’ve owned this smoker for about a year, and I’m confident enough now to cook my family’s Thanksgiving meal in it and not spoil an expensive hunk of meat in the process. There are several schools of thought on cooking prime rib, including these two:
1) The traditional English method: Start in a very hot oven to sear the outside of the roast, then lower the temperature to a moderate 350F degrees to finish cooking.
2) The low and slow: cook at 200 degrees for a longer period, then finish in a 500 degree oven to brown the outside.
Both methods will produce a rosy medium rare at the very center of the roast, but by using a gentler heat of method #2, more of that rosy pink is preserved closer to the surface. If you want to read more about the theory behind the methods, check out Alton Brown’s I’m Just Here for the Food, one of the books I’ll write up for my Required Reading list.
These principles apply to both indoor ovens and outdoor cooking over live fire. My friend Russ turns his prime ribs on an outdoor rotisserie using method #1, reportedly with great results. Since my Weber smoker is an outdoor oven that can hold temperatures in the 200-250 F degree range, it’s perfect for roasting a prime rib with the low and slow method. And if I say so myself, the result was fabulous. It’ll be long time before I roast another turkey in November.
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| He said “wood.” |
Holding steady at 240 |
“Dam” fine pumpkin pie! |
One tradition I chose not to stomp on this year is the pumpkin pie from the Filling Station Cafe, Orange County’s foremost pie bakers and my default purveyor of holiday desserts. Sure, I can bake my own, but for $20, I’d rather buy one that’s far better than one I can ever make myself. Note the height of the pie in the clickable photo. All their pies are singularly massive. A substantially thick, slightly sweet short dough crust acts like Hoover Dam and retains enough pumpkin to fill Lake Mead, yet crumbles under your fork like a Lorna Doone cookie. Baking this much pumpkin custard takes more time than pies of lesser size, yet it’s always perfectly done: never too loose, and never dried out. It’s flavored with just enough familiar spices to imagine your mama baked it, that is, if your mama got mad pie skillz.
Every year, they limit holiday pre-orders because demand is that high. When I picked mine up, I learned they stopped taking orders seven days before Thanksgiving. If you want one for Christmanukah, I suggest you call today. The caramel apple pie is my other favorite choice. Walnuts anchored by a hardened slurry of brown sugar “caramel” cascades like magma down the top crust of this massive, peaked, apple chunk volcano. The coating isn’t technically caramel but rather a sandy textured, dark brown sugar frosting. It’s a minor quibble with an otherwise damn fine pie.
Filling Station
This is their original location where the baking is done. Breakfast and lunch only.
201 N. Glassell St.
Orange, CA 92866
714-289-9714
and
195 Center Street Promenade
This location is open for breakfast, lunch, and dinner and has a small, well chosen list of interesting beers and wines.
Anaheim, CA 92805
714-535-2800
