Turkey Divan — What the Bones Left Behind

The week between Christmas and New Year's is the quietest week of the year in this house, and I have learned to love the quiet the way I love the noise — differently, but fully. The tree is still up. The lights are still on. The kitchen still smells like Christmas dinner, which is to say it smells like love and butter and the faintest ghost of fried chicken grease that no amount of cleaning will remove from the curtains, and I am fine with that. The curtains can carry the memory. That is what curtains are for.

Marcus has been home all week, sleeping until noon and then appearing in the kitchen like a bear emerging from hibernation — disoriented, enormous, hungry. He opens the refrigerator and stands in front of it with the door open, letting the cold air escape into the kitchen, and I tell him what I have told him every day of his life: close that door, boy, I am not cooling the whole neighborhood. He grins. He does not close the door. He takes out leftover mac and cheese and eats it cold, standing at the counter, and I let him because there are battles worth fighting and cold mac and cheese is not one of them.

I made turkey soup from the Christmas turkey carcass. This is the alchemy I love most — taking what is left, what has already given everything, and making something new from the bones. The carcass simmered for four hours with onion and celery and bay leaves, and the broth was golden and deep and tasted like the meal that came before it, transformed. I added egg noodles and carrots and the last of the turkey meat, shredded fine, and the soup was ready by evening and Marcus ate two bowls and Calvin ate one and I ate mine slowly, standing at the window, watching the backyard go dark.

CJ went back to Huntsville yesterday. He hugged me at the door and said, Mama, I'll be back for New Year's. And I held my oldest son and thought about how he used to fit in my arms entirely, all of him, every finger and toe, and now he is a grown man with a job and a apartment and a life that does not include me except on holidays and Sundays, and the not-including is correct, is natural, is what I raised him for, and it still makes my throat tight every time he drives away.

Destiny is here. She is always here. She brought her textbooks and is studying in the guest room, the door open so she can hear me in the kitchen, and I think she studies better with kitchen sounds — the clatter of pots, the hum of the stove, the ambient soundtrack of a mother who is always cooking something. I am making black-eyed pea soup for New Year's. The peas are soaking overnight. Tomorrow I will add ham hock and onion and let them simmer until they are soft and smoky and full of the kind of promise that only New Year's food carries — prosperity, luck, the belief that what we cook on the first day sets the table for the rest of the year. I believe that. I have to believe that. The alternative is randomness, and I am not a random woman.

I made the soup from the bones, and then I made this from what was left of the meat — because in this kitchen, nothing gets wasted and nothing gets dismissed. Turkey Divan is not a fancy dish, but it is a faithful one, the kind that asks very little and gives a great deal back, and that felt exactly right for a week like this one. Destiny came out of the guest room when she smelled it baking, and Marcus ate half the pan before I could get it to the table, and I did not say a single word about it.

Turkey Divan

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 35 minutes | Total Time: 50 minutes | Servings: 6

Ingredients

• 3 cups cooked turkey, shredded or chopped (leftover works beautifully)
• 1 lb fresh broccoli florets (or one 12 oz bag frozen, thawed and drained)
• 1 can (10.5 oz) condensed cream of chicken soup
• 1/2 cup mayonnaise
• 1/2 cup sour cream
• 1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
• 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
• 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
• 1/4 teaspoon onion powder
• 1 cup shredded sharp cheddar cheese, divided
• 1/2 cup plain breadcrumbs
• 2 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
• Salt to taste

Instructions

1. Preheat and prep. Preheat your oven to 375°F. Lightly grease a 9x13-inch baking dish and set aside.
2. Blanch the broccoli. If using fresh broccoli, bring a pot of salted water to a boil and blanch the florets for 2 minutes until just tender-bright. Drain well and pat dry. You want as little water as possible going into the dish.
3. Make the sauce. In a large bowl, whisk together the cream of chicken soup, mayonnaise, sour cream, lemon juice, garlic powder, onion powder, and black pepper until smooth. Taste and add salt as needed.
4. Layer the casserole. Spread the broccoli florets in an even layer across the bottom of your prepared baking dish. Lay the shredded turkey over the top. Pour the sauce evenly over the turkey and broccoli, spreading it gently to cover.
5. Add the cheese. Scatter 3/4 cup of the shredded cheddar evenly over the sauce layer.
6. Make the topping. In a small bowl, stir together the breadcrumbs, melted butter, and remaining 1/4 cup cheddar until the crumbs are evenly coated. Sprinkle this mixture over the top of the casserole.
7. Bake. Bake uncovered for 30–35 minutes, until the topping is golden brown and the edges are bubbling. Let rest for 5 minutes before serving.
8. Serve. Spoon over steamed white rice or buttered egg noodles, or serve as-is with a simple green salad on the side.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 420 | Protein: 31g | Fat: 26g | Carbs: 14g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 680mg