Smoked Turkey Club Panini

The Monday after Thanksgiving, I made soup beans. Not because Monday is soup beans day — that's Betty's rule and I follow it at home too — but because after the excess of Thanksgiving, soup beans are a recalibration. They're simple. They're humble. They're a reminder that the baseline is enough. You don't need turkey and dressing and seven side dishes and marshmallow sweet potatoes every day. You need beans and cornbread and a full belly and a warm kitchen, and everything else is bonus.

But today I want to talk about what you do with Thanksgiving leftovers, because in the Hensley house, leftovers are not an afterthought. Leftovers are the sequel, and sometimes the sequel is better than the original.

Turkey leftovers, in order of priority: First, the hot turkey sandwich. Take a slice of white bread, lay sliced turkey on it, ladle hot gravy over the whole thing. Eat with a fork. This is called an "open-face hot turkey sandwich" and it's the reason you made too much gravy on purpose — the gravy was always destined for this moment. Second: turkey soup. Take the carcass, put it in a pot with water, onion, celery, carrots, and simmer for two hours. Strain. Add diced vegetables, egg noodles, and shredded turkey. Season. That's soup. From a carcass. From garbage. From something most people throw away. Betty never threw away a carcass. Betty never threw away anything with flavor left in it.

Third: turkey hash. Dice leftover turkey and potatoes (mashed or roasted, whatever you have). Fry them in a skillet with onion until everything is crispy. Top with a fried egg. That's Saturday morning breakfast the week after Thanksgiving, and it's better than anything you'll get at a restaurant because it has a week of history in it — the turkey that was alive, then frozen, then brined, then roasted, then carved, then refrigerated, then resurrected in a skillet. That turkey has lived more lives than a cat.

Bryan Station lost in the first round of the playoffs on Friday. 31-14 to Pulaski County. Clay had nine tackles but the offense couldn't score. He was quiet after the game. Not sad, exactly — Clay doesn't do sad visibly — but deflated. Like someone had let some air out. He ate leftover turkey in the kitchen at midnight and went to bed. I didn't bother him. The season is over. He'll be back. He's got two more years. But this one is done, and the first done always stings the worst.

The house feels different without football. Friday nights are just Friday nights now. No game to prep for, no opponent to scout, no bleacher seat to claim. I didn't realize how much of my fall was structured around Clay's season until the season ended and the structure collapsed. I'm going to need a new Friday night activity. Connie suggests date night. I suggest she's right. We might be evolving.

I talked about the open-face hot turkey sandwich as priority number one, but if you’ve already burned through the gravy — and in this house, the gravy goes fast — then the smoked turkey club panini is how you keep the leftover sequel going strong into the middle of the week. Clay came home from practice Tuesday and I pressed these up in about fifteen minutes, and the kid who’d been quiet since Friday’s loss ate two of them standing at the counter. Food doesn’t fix a season ending, but a hot, crispy sandwich with good turkey in it doesn’t hurt.

Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 8 min | Total Time: 18 min | Servings: 2

Ingredients

4 slices thick-cut sourdough or ciabatta bread
6 oz smoked or roasted leftover turkey, thinly sliced
4 strips cooked bacon
2 slices Swiss or provolone cheese
2 leaves romaine or green leaf lettuce
4 slices ripe tomato
2 tablespoons mayonnaise
1 tablespoon Dijon mustard
1 tablespoon softened butter
Salt and black pepper to taste

Instructions

Heat the panini press. Preheat a panini press or cast iron grill pan over medium heat. If using a grill pan, have a heavy skillet ready to press the sandwiches.
Mix the spread. In a small bowl, stir together the mayonnaise and Dijon mustard until combined. Season lightly with salt and pepper.
Build the sandwiches. Spread the mayo-Dijon mixture on the inside faces of all four bread slices. Layer turkey, bacon, and cheese on two of the slices. Top each with lettuce and two tomato slices, then close with the remaining bread.
Butter the outsides. Spread softened butter evenly on the outer faces of each sandwich. This is what gives you the golden, crispy press.
Press and cook. Place sandwiches on the panini press or grill pan. Press firmly and cook 3–4 minutes per side, until the bread is deeply golden and the cheese is melted through. If using a grill pan, weigh the sandwich down with the heavy skillet and flip once halfway.
Rest and slice. Let the sandwiches rest for one minute before cutting diagonally. Serve hot.

Nutrition (per serving)

Smoked Turkey Club Panini — Because the Sequel Deserves Better Than Cold Slices