No: Competition

Yes: Community

Despite all the terrible things it enables, I will always love the internet. I do, because it is the space where people who would otherwise never connect, do. It’s not magic. I takes quiet intention, some grit, and a little bit of bravery to leap when a hand is extended for help, even if it isn’t directly extended at you.

I love it, because like throwing pennies in a fountain to speed a wish along, tossing a request into the ether of the interwebs doesn’t promise a desired result. It makes space for it. That is just what happened on a sweltering July day when the wonderful Eric Kim invited his Instagram community to share their favourite Turkey recipes.

I’ve been following Eric’s work for years. I started with his Table for One column at Food52. It nourished me with more than recipes. It made eating alone feel like something I could do because someone else understood the joy of it, and the inexorable kernel of grief, even if I was the only one sitting at my table. Reading his work made it easier to find the resolve to feed myself (something I continue to struggle with even as I recover from disordered eating) when I was feeling particularly lonely and struggled to see food as something different than the focal point of gatherings, and a way to express love for people who enrich my life. I’m still learning that it’s okay to express that kind of love for myself.

As Eric’s career has progressed onwards to writing and releasing his cookbook, and his role at the New York Times, I’ve followed along. I continue to find sustenance in his prose. I still see myself in his work. Even though he didn’t know I existed, it felt like there was someone out there who understood how food can be the doorway to a return to a body that doesn’t quite feel like home. I have always valued that sense of being in it together, even if we existed in different countries and lived experiences.

When Eric asked for transformative turkey recipes in July, I responded on a whim. I doubted he’d see it, with 208,000 followers. But somehow… he did. Somehow, the words “Judy bird style brine, but with south asian spices (cumin, mint, dry red chili, pepper etc)” were enough to build a conversation on.

We went back and forth over email where I shared the origin story of the recipe:

I’ve been making this for the last 10 years or so. 

I started with the classic LA Times dry brine recipe 13 years ago because my Toronto college apartment fridge did not have room for a wet brine set up, and all of the other ingredients to put together a feast for 12. And I have a reputation for excellence to maintain, so there was no way I was going to serve dry, or boring turkey. In addition to the space saving aspect, the fact that I could dry brine the bird while it thawed was a huge win for my overly scheduled self. 

I got to practice it twice that year, because in addition to hosting a friendsgiving for Canadian thanksgiving, my roommate's birthday is in November, and she asked for an American-style Thanksgiving for her birthday present. So I got to make 2 turkeys that year, and for two years after that.

For the next couple of years, I made Thanksgiving dinner for my family when my parents were still in the country. We emigrated to Canada when I was 13, so it isn't a tradition I grew up with, but Thanksgiving tends to fall close to diwali most years, and we're culturally Hindu, so the idea of celebrating abundance lines up nicely. Plus, we are a family of (former) restaurateurs so making food together and feeding each other is a preferred family activity/love language.

This is where the recipe shifted from the classic LA times version. Where I grew up in Bahrain, there is a Pakistani restaurant, call Paradise, which serves a dish I remember as chicken chargha (chargha is the Lahori word for chicken... so chicken chicken... but chai tea is still a thing...). I had deep fond memories of crispy charred skin, cumin, mint and chili flake. In my research of charga recipes, I realized that the flavours in my remembered version at Paradise, are quite different from the Lahori recipes.

So with no map beyond sense memory I set about adapting the basic dry brine with flavours that felt like home - ones that are better aligned for a traditional south asian spice pantry, and that my family has loved for longer than I've been alive. 

For the last 8 years, I've been making this recipe just for me. My parents moved away to deal with other responsibilities and my sister moved into her own home. I spend most Thanksgiving weekends on my own now, making my favourite meal - this turkey, potatoes roasted in the drippings, air-fried brussels, cranberry apple chutney, pumpkin sour cream pie and cinnamon whiskey ice cream. It nourishes me for the weekend and I am always thankful for the luxury of time, space and memory that infuse the creative process.

From there we progressed to phone interviews, and then there was enough to build an NYT recipe.

In his column, Eric describes his methodical testing process which confirms that dry brining a frozen turkey is a successful approach to making something traditionally dry delicious. Then his panel of diverse humans confirms the delight that combining chiles and mint adds to what is otherwise a blissfully blank canvas (more on their opinions in this YouTube video with the recipe). According to them, the flavours are a clear winner. No competition.

It was never about competition (much as I love the thrill of winning). It was about offering an idea, and a gesture of support to a fellow cook, a fellow solo diner who loves feeding people, a fellow writer seeking inspiration. It was a response to a call for community to come together and help, if they could.

In a time when it seems like the world is becoming a progressively more dangerous place for systemically excluded people, I am so grateful that there is still space for genuine, heartfelt connection. On days when news of the ongoing rescinding of what should be inalienable rights and freedoms for female bodied people gets really loud, I find I can cope because I know that somewhere, someone else like me is cooking and bringing friends together to celebrate and grieve.

While it does not make everything better, it is a powerful reminder. There is always opportunity to come together. There is always opportunity to take care of each other. There is always opportunity to act. There is always opportunity to take responsibility and care for the people and places that are your home. There is always opportunity to nourish yourself, and each other.

I didn’t imagine when I shared my Thanksgiving recipe with Eric that it would become a blessing for his community. I couldn’t foretell that it would be the excuse for gathering. My heart is full, knowing that the meal that I have been making at my table for one, is now enriching the hearts and bodies of so many other delightful humans. I’m deeply grateful for it, and for all of you, who make up this community.

Happy Thanksgiving, if you’re celebrating! Whether you’re celebrating this weekend or making the slow trudge towards the winter holidays, I hope you’re finding time and space to nourish yourself and be well.