Turkey Pesto and Garlic Meatballs

The week after Thanksgiving. The house is quiet again — David and the kids went back to Montpelier Sunday, Sarah and Tom drove to Portland Monday morning, and it's just Helen and me and Frost and enough leftover turkey to feed a small village. This is the rhythm of holidays: the buildup, the fullness, the emptying out. I've been through it sixty-three times and the emptying still gets me, just a little, like a door closing in a room you wanted to stay in.

But the turkey. The turkey abides. I made turkey soup on Monday — the carcass simmered in water for four hours with onion, celery, carrots, and a bay leaf. The broth is golden and rich and tastes like Thanksgiving distilled to its essence. I picked the meat off the bones — there's always more than you think — and added it back with egg noodles and fresh dill. Turkey soup is not a recipe. It's an extension of the holiday, a way of making Thanksgiving last one more day, one more bowl, one more sitting at the kitchen table eating something that came from the same bird that twelve people carved into on Thursday.

I also made turkey sandwiches, obviously. White bread, mayonnaise, turkey, cranberry sauce, a little salt. Helen says I eat more turkey sandwiches in the week after Thanksgiving than actual turkey on the day itself. She's right. The sandwich is where the turkey really shines — cold, thin-sliced, with the cranberry sauce providing that sweet-tart counterpoint that turns a simple sandwich into a memory.

I wrote a blog post about the Thanksgiving turkey, including Helen's recipe card notes. The response was bigger than anything I've written so far — eighty-some comments, mostly from people sharing their own turkey disasters and triumphs. A man in Maine described the year he forgot to thaw the turkey and tried to cook it frozen, which is an act of desperation I respect even as I judge it. A woman in Connecticut said her husband carved the turkey so badly she took over and has done it ever since. These are the stories that matter — not the perfect meals, but the human ones. The mistakes. The adaptations. The fact that we keep trying, every November, to put a large bird on a table and feed the people we love.

December starts tomorrow. Helen has the Christmas decorations in the attic. She mentioned the attic. I pretended not to hear. She'll mention it again tomorrow. I'll go to the attic on Wednesday. This is the dance. We both know the steps.

Turkey soup for dinner again tonight. The carcass is stripped. The holiday is done. On to the next one.

When the carcass was finally stripped and the soup pot empty, I found myself with a pound and a half of finely chopped turkey I’d pulled from the bones out of some stubborn refusal to waste anything — the same instinct, I suppose, that keeps us all going back to that table every November. Ground turkey felt too ordinary for what I wanted to do with it, and pesto and garlic felt like a way to take something that had already done its holiday duty and send it out on a better note. Here’s how I made them.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 22 min | Total Time: 37 min | Servings: 4 (about 20 meatballs)

Ingredients

1 1/2 lbs ground turkey (or finely chopped leftover roast turkey)
1/3 cup prepared basil pesto
4 cloves garlic, minced
1/3 cup breadcrumbs (plain or Italian-seasoned)
1 large egg
1/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes (optional)
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 cup marinara or tomato sauce, warmed, for serving
Fresh basil and extra Parmesan, to finish

Instructions

Preheat the oven. Heat oven to 400°F. Line a rimmed baking sheet with parchment paper or lightly oil it.
Mix the meatball base. In a large bowl, combine the turkey, pesto, minced garlic, breadcrumbs, egg, Parmesan, salt, pepper, and red pepper flakes if using. Mix gently with your hands or a fork until just combined — do not overwork or the meatballs will be dense.
Shape the meatballs. Roll the mixture into balls roughly 1 1/2 inches in diameter (about 1 heaping tablespoon each) and place them on the prepared baking sheet, spaced about an inch apart.
Sear for color (optional but worth it). Heat the olive oil in an oven-safe skillet over medium-high heat. Working in batches, sear the meatballs for 1—2 minutes per side until lightly golden, then transfer back to the baking sheet. Skip this step if you’re short on time; the oven alone works fine.
Roast. Bake for 18—20 minutes, until cooked through and the internal temperature reaches 165°F. The tops should look set and lightly golden.
Serve. Spoon warm marinara onto a platter or into shallow bowls, nestle the meatballs on top, and finish with torn fresh basil and a snow of grated Parmesan. Serve over pasta, polenta, or with crusty bread for soaking up the sauce.

Nutrition (per serving)

Turkey Pesto and Garlic Meatballs — One More Way the Turkey Abides