The Onion, the Apricot, and the Gentle Art of Gratitude

Thanksgiving, for those of us who cook, is the great canvas. It is neither gaudy nor loud, unburdened by the commercial chaos of December or the frenetic pace of summer gatherings. Thanksgiving is soft-spoken and calm. It sidles up to you, as steam curls from a gently simmering pot, and asks not only what you cook but why. It is the most culinary of holidays—and my favorite.

There are no gifts, no obligations save for the vague social contract that we shall share a meal and give thanks for it. Everything else—the watching of the parade, the dog show, the folding of napkins into swans—is optional. The vibe is cozy and warm. It's a day for couches and thick sweaters. I have celebrated it with a large family, where laughter rose like yeast rolls; with just my wife when our schedules didn't allow for travel; and solo while serving in the military, finding a lonely restaurant in a local Holiday Inn. It remains, in all forms, a holiday of sufficiency. You are here. You are surviving. And as little as you might have, you are thankful. You need only gratitude, and you are full.

For me, gratitude is often tied to the kitchen. It is in the warmth of an oven, the sound of chopping herbs, and the sizzle of onions softening in butter that I feel closest to those I love. The kitchen is where I show my care, where family traditions live on in the recipes I tweak and the lessons my father taught me. An ancestor of mine sat at that first, over-mythologized feast in Massachusetts. The foods on that table were, for the most part, vastly different from today's spread—save for regional homages that incorporate some of the original ingredients: oyster stuffing, squash, grains, and berries, to name a few. Unfortunately, there would be no green bean casserole for a couple of centuries.

Years ago, before the Food Network flooded our homes with cooking competitions and holiday baking shows twenty-four-seven, inspiration for me came quietly, in the pages of Bon Appétit, Gourmet, Saveur, and Food & Wine. One autumn, Bon Appétit featured a spread of four roast turkey recipes that set the bar for what a modern roast turkey could be. My thought was to eventually try all four. There was an ancho chili-rubbed turkey that piqued my interest, but one caught my attention in a way that felt almost fateful: an apricot and ginger-glazed turkey with roasted onion and shallot gravy.

Traditions often begin without us realizing it. A single choice—a recipe, a flavor, a moment of shared satisfaction—plants itself firmly in memory. The recipe was a revelation. The glaze is a sunbeam distilled: bright apricot nectar infused with honeyed ginger, tempered by the savory green shadows of thyme and sage. The onions and shallots, roasted until caramelized and jammy, are transformed into a velvety gravy, rich and earthy. It is a dish that speaks in whispers but lingers long after the plates are cleared.

Over time, the recipe has proven adaptable to the irregularities of life and is just about foolproof. Apricot nectar, for reasons beyond my comprehension, occasionally vanishes from store shelves, but I have found that mango or peach nectar substitutes well enough. And the gravy—that golden purée of roasted onions, shallots, and turkey drippings—is one of those things that elevates anything it touches. It has been rumored, but never proven, that I have used it as a cold spread on the next-day turkey sandwich.

This recipe, like the holiday, is forgiving and unpretentious. It is not about perfection but about care, intention, and the joy of creating something to share. Each time I make it, the scent of apricot and sage filling the kitchen, I am reminded that Thanksgiving is as much about the act of making as it is about the act of gathering.

And to you, reader, I offer this recipe—not merely as a list of ingredients, but as an invitation. Let the scent of apricot, turkey, and sage fill your kitchen the way gratitude fills the spaces between people gathered at a table. Whether your Thanksgiving is shared with many or few, whether it is loud with laughter or quiet with reflection, this dish carries with it the spirit of the holiday: a soft-spoken reminder that what we have, and who we share it with, is sometimes enough.

Apricot-Glazed Turkey with Roasted Onion and Shallot Gravy

Originally published in Bon Appetit, many, many, years ago.

Ingredients

Apricot Glaze

1 cup apricot nectar
1 cup apricot preserves
2 tablespoons minced peeled fresh ginger
1 tablespoon honey

Herb Butter

3/4 cup (1 1/2 sticks) unsalted butter, room temperature
3 tablespoons chopped fresh thyme or 1 tablespoon dried
3 tablespoons chopped fresh sage or 1 tablespoon dried rubbed sage
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
1 teaspoon ground black pepper

Onion Mixture

2 tablespoons (1/4 stick) unsalted butter
3 large onions (about 2 pounds), thinly sliced
6 ounces shallots (about 6 large), thinly sliced

Turkey

1 21- to 22-pound turkey
1 14 1/2-ounce can (or more) low-salt chicken broth
1 teaspoon chopped fresh thyme or 1/2 teaspoon dried
1/2 teaspoon chopped fresh sage or 1/4 teaspoon dried

Gravy

1 14 1/2-ounce can (about) low-salt chicken broth
Drippings from turkey, fat skimmed.

Directions

For Glaze:

1. Combine all ingredients in heavy small saucepan and bring to boil.
2. Reduce heat to medium-low and simmer until thickened and reduced to 1 1/4 cups, about 15 minutes.

For Herb Butter:

1. Combine all ingredients in small bowl. Set aside.

For Onion Mixture:

1. Melt butter in heavy large skillet over medium heat.
2. Add onions and shallots and sauté until very soft and light brown, about 20 minutes.
   Note: (Glaze, herb butter and onion mixture can be prepared 1 day ahead. Cover separately and chill. Bring herb butter to room temperature before continuing.)

For Turkey:

1. Position rack in lowest third of oven and preheat to 400° F.
2. Pat turkey dry with paper towels.
3. Season turkey cavity with salt and pepper.
4. Place turkey on rack set in large roasting pan.
5. Slide hand or wooden spoon under skin of turkey breast to loosen skin.
6. Spread half of herb butter over breast under skin. If stuffing turkey, spoon stuffing into main cavity.
7. Place remaining herb butter in small saucepan. Stir over low heat until melted.
8. Brush butter over outside of turkey.
9. Tie legs together loosely to hold shape of turkey.
10. Roast turkey 30 minutes.
11. Reduce oven temperature to 325° F.
12. Roast turkey 1 hour 30 minutes, basting occasionally with pan drippings.
13. Tent turkey with heavy-duty foil; roast 45 minutes longer.
14. Add onion mixture, 1 can broth, thyme and sage to pan. Roast 15 minutes.
15. Bring glaze to simmer.
16. Brush 1/2 cup glaze over turkey.
17. Continue to roast turkey uncovered until meat thermometer inserted into thickest part of thigh registers 180° F. or until juices run clear when thickest part of thigh is pierced with skewer.
18. Brush occasionally with glaze and add more broth to pan if liquid evaporates, roasting about 40 minutes longer for unstuffed turkey (about 1 hour 10 minutes longer for stuffed turkey).
19. Place turkey on platter, tent with foil. Let stand 30 minutes.
20. Reserve mixture in pan for gravy.

For Gravy:

1. Pour contents of roasting pan into strainer set over large bowl. Spoon fat from pan juices in bowl.
2. Transfer onion mixture in strainer to blender. Add 1 cup pan juices to blender and puree until smooth, adding more pan juices and chicken broth if necessary to thin sauce to desired consistency.
3. Transfer sauce to heavy large saucepan and bring to boil. Cook until color deepens, skimming off any foam, about 5-10 minutes.
4. Season with salt and pepper to taste.