Turkey Lattice Pie

Thanksgiving. The first without Marc. Mama cooked extra — she will always cook extra now. The table at my apartment held thirteen people: everyone except Marc. The chair where he would have sat was empty, and nobody sat in it, and nobody mentioned it, and the emptiness was the loudest thing in the room. I cooked the full dinner again. Turkey, dressing, mac and cheese, greens, yams, cornbread, banana pudding, ribs. And smothered pork chops. I added Marc's dish to the Thanksgiving menu, permanently. It was not on the menu before because the menu was full. It is on the menu now because the menu has to make room for what we have lost, and what we have lost is a man who loved smothered pork chops more than any person should love a food, and the food carries his love forward the way a river carries what is dropped into it — onward, always onward, without stopping. Aiden said grace. "Thank you, God, for the food and the family and for Uncle Marc who is watching us from heaven and who probably wants some of Daddy's pork chops." The table went silent. Then Mama laughed — a real laugh, the first real laugh I had heard from her since July. And then everyone laughed, because Aiden was right — Marc probably does want the pork chops, and if heaven has a delivery service, we are on the list. Dad ate a full plate. He looked at the empty chair once and then looked away and did not look again. Darius held DJ on his lap and DJ ate everything because DJ is four and has Marc's appetite if not his uncle's presence. Keisha poured wine. Jerome served plates. Brianna was not there (her year), but she texted: "Give the kids hugs from me." I did. The food was perfect. The table was not. But the food held the table, and the table held the family, and the family held the grief, and the grief held the memory of a twenty-seven-year-old man who ate more than anyone and laughed louder than anyone and who is here, in the pork chops, in the grace, in the empty chair that nobody sits in because it is his.

The pork chops are Marc’s, and they always will be — but a table that feeds thirteen people through the hardest holiday of the year needs everything it can carry. I had leftover turkey and a family that was not ready to stop eating, not ready to stop sitting together, not ready to go home to quiet houses. This Turkey Lattice Pie came together late in the afternoon, after plates had been cleared and Aiden had fallen asleep on the couch, and it was the kind of dish that says: we are still here, we are still feeding each other, and there is still warmth coming out of this kitchen. That’s what a day like this one requires — not one dish, but all of them, until everyone is full enough to drive home and face the night.

Prep Time: 25 minutes | Cook Time: 40 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 5 minutes | Servings: 8

Ingredients

3 cups cooked turkey, shredded or cubed
1 can (10.5 oz) condensed cream of chicken soup, undiluted
1 cup frozen peas and carrots, thawed
1/2 cup diced celery
1/2 cup diced yellow onion
1/2 cup chicken or turkey broth
1/2 cup sour cream
1 teaspoon garlic powder
1 teaspoon onion powder
1/2 teaspoon dried thyme
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1/2 teaspoon salt, or to taste
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
2 tubes (8 oz each) refrigerated crescent roll dough
1 egg, beaten (for egg wash)
1 tablespoon fresh parsley, chopped (optional, for garnish)

Instructions

Preheat and prepare. Preheat your oven to 375°F. Lightly grease a 9x13-inch baking dish and set aside.
Saute the vegetables. In a large skillet over medium heat, melt the butter. Add the diced celery and onion and cook for 4–5 minutes, stirring occasionally, until softened and translucent.
Build the filling. Stir in the cream of chicken soup, broth, and sour cream until smooth and combined. Add the shredded turkey, peas and carrots, garlic powder, onion powder, thyme, salt, and pepper. Stir everything together and let the mixture warm through over medium-low heat for 3–4 minutes. Remove from heat.
Layer the base. Open one tube of crescent roll dough and unroll it without separating the triangles. Press the dough into the bottom and slightly up the sides of the prepared baking dish, pinching any seams together to seal. Par-bake the base layer for 5 minutes, then remove from oven.
Add the filling. Pour the turkey filling evenly over the par-baked crust, spreading it to the edges.
Create the lattice top. Open the second tube of crescent roll dough and separate it into individual triangles. Cut each triangle lengthwise into two strips. Lay the strips diagonally across the top of the filling in a lattice or crisscross pattern, tucking the ends under the edge of the bottom crust. Brush the lattice strips generously with the beaten egg wash.
Bake. Bake at 375°F for 25–30 minutes, or until the lattice top is deep golden brown and the filling is bubbling around the edges. If the top browns too quickly, tent loosely with foil for the last 10 minutes.
Rest and serve. Let the pie rest for 8–10 minutes before cutting. Garnish with fresh parsley if desired. Serve warm, straight from the dish.

Nutrition (per serving)

Turkey Lattice Pie — Setting a Place at the Table for Everyone We’re Feeding