On Transitions

An unexpected longing for summer, shifting seasons, and maple-cured turkey leg.

The influence of the weather is remarkable. With temperatures hitting the high-70s earlier this week, I took the opportunity to do some swimming in a local pond. Putting on my wetsuit¹ and stepping into the water, I felt an immediate, overwhelming desire for summer — for warm mornings, the mineral taste of the lake or the salt of ocean. I wanted to be barefoot, waterskiing or surfing. Up until just then I had been consumed completely with turkey, with my bow, even having the faintest longing for the fall and deer season — but that focus was almost completely overwhelmed² by the anticipation of spearfishing, freediving, lobsters and crabs³⁴.

As excited as I was, I felt a hint of sadness. Here in New England, at least, it didn’t really feel like spring started until about a week ago; here I was already wishing it were over. Summer, with all its mirth, still needs the anticipation that comes with spring to really hold true. It doesn’t quite feel right putting seedlings outside — like we’ll be doing this weekend — when it will already been in the 60s by the time the sun rises. That abrupt switch threw my internal circuitry for a loop⁵.

And then — the very next morning, a cool rain blew in as I was sitting in the woods trying to talk turkey, putting me right back in the spring mindset as I listened for gobbles⁶.

A recurring theme in this newsletter — and, in life really, given it keeps showing up in almost everything I consume⁷ — is the idea of seasonality.

Sam Sager

wrote extensively about it a few weeks, how he’s found that he naturally falls into the rhythms of each year starting in the spring⁸. As I reflect more and more on this abrupt start to the summer⁹, I think, beyond just a need for a changing of the seasons, we also need the changes within the season. We need the natural transitions — the teases of what’s to come — to help us ease out of the patterns we’ve established and form the new ones¹⁰. March comes in like a lion so it can go out like a lamb; April shower are requisite for May flowers.

In the vein of a blatant disregard for the seasons, here’s a maple-cured and braised turkey — the preparation I did for the first leg quarter from last week’s turkey. Pulling flavors less from the spring and more from the fall — maple, cinnamon, allspice, and nutmeg — this would make a perfect Thanksgiving dish¹¹ and was a great comfort on the cold, rainy day which followed our taste of summer.

The day before you plan to cook, place a wild turkey leg¹² in a roasting pan. In a small bowl, mix together about a half cup of salt with dashes of allspice, nutmeg, cinnamon, and black pepper. Rub this mixture thoroughly all over the turkey leg, then pour over with maple syrup¹³ and massage the syrup into the spice mix, forming a paste over the meat. Throw this covered in the fridge for +/- 24 hours.

Around lunch time the next day, chop up an onion, an apple, and a carrot or two, then remove the leg from the cure and give it a quick rinse. Pat dry and then sear the leg on all sides in a heavy-bottomed pot, ideally with duck fat¹⁴. Take out the leg and toss in the vegetables and apple, browning them. Toss in a knob of butter, and when that melts, deglaze the pan with about a cup of apple cider¹⁵. Put the meat back in the pot and then add additional cider¹⁶ as as needed to just cover the leg.

Bring this to a boil, then cut to a simmer and let it ride for about four hours, until the turkey is tender and falling off the bone. Remove the leg, shred the meat, and then blend (with either an immersion blender in the pot or pour into a regular blender) the braising liquid, carrots, onion, and apple until it’s smooth. Put this back in the pot, add the shredded turkey, and serve — ideally over mashed potatoes.

So there we have it folks, maple-cured and braised turkey leg. This recipe comes from Jesse Griffith’s terrific The Turkey Book, which is one of the most engaging cookbook’s I’ve read. Very much looking forward to cooking my way through it, turkeys permitting.

With that, I’ll leave you to your weekends. I would, of course, be remiss not to wish a very happy Mother’s Day to the mothers in my life, Mrs. CWD being the most important (sorry, actual Mom!). Whether you spend it planting seeds or hunting turkey¹⁷, spend it with someone you love.

We’ll see you here next week.

1. I realize a wetsuit may seem out of character to those who know me — but, I’m doing an ocean 5K swim next month that is wetsuit-mandatory, so I figured I might as well start training with one.

2. One might believe that overwhelming sense came from the smell of neoprene in the morning.

3. Fishing of any kind, really. Walking through the shallows of the pond, I saw a small brown trout stalking through the shadows. It was a pertinent reminder to throw the tankara rod I bought on a whim in my trunk — as nothing sounds more perfectly pirate summer than finishing a swim and lazily casting a string on a stick.

4. All that being said, I still plan to get out for a few more turkey hunts and shoot my bow daily. One doesn’t just stop these birds cold turkey.

5. As a wise man once said: “I wasn’t ready… I don’t think anyone was…”

6. Didn’t see any birds, however, and the closest gobble was the shock gobble that came from across the street when I slammed my trunk a little too hard at the trailhead. Regardless, it was a nice morning in the woods until that gentle rain turned into a downpour.

Classic spring in New England.

7. I mean that both literally — the food that I eat — and metaphorically — the books and other media that I read and watch.

8. Originally, for Sam, because that signified the start of baseball season — but, more recently, because it is the natural cycle of the gardener as well.

9. Which, given this is New England, had to inevitably regress to a string of cold, rainy days before the real summer arrives.

10. It not being natural to have turkey and tautog simultaneously on the mind. But then again, I remember a few years ago, living in New Hampshire during the doldrums of COVID, and in one day both waterskiing and snowskiing — so maybe there’s something to be said of juxtaposition as well.

11. And very well may show up on the menu this year.

12. I suppose domesticated would work here too, and probably even chicken or duck — you may just need to adjust the overall cook time to account for the less sinewy legs.

13. At this point I shouldn’t have to tell you this needs to be real maple syrup from a tree.

14. Lard is what is recommended in The Turkey Book, but bacon fat or schmaltz would work, too — or butter, or ghee. Just try to avoid seed oils.

15. We used a mix of sparkling apple cider, fresh apple juice, and apple cider vinegar.

16. Or water if you’re out.

17. Which you won’t be if you live in a New England state, most of which ban hunting on Sundays.