The never-ending turkey

As most turkey fans (and chest-freezer owners) know, the best time to buy a turkey is a few weeks after Thanksgiving. I normally smoke a turkey on the holiday itself, but this year I did a breast roulade that resulted in no leftovers, s0 when turkey-clearance time came around ($1.19/lb.), I went big. Very big. Like, 22 pounds big. It was by far the largest bird I’ve ever worked with (trying to spatchcock a turkey that weighs more than a medium-sized dog is not up there on the list of tasks I enjoy), and while at the time I swore I’d never do it again, nearly a month later we’re STILL eating turkey sandwiches, turkey enchiladas, and turkey soup, and my deep freeze is packed with gallons of smoked-turkey stock. It’s hard to argue with weeks upon weeks of meals for $26.50, so yes, I will probably do it again. Read on to see how it went. (And, above, enjoy a photo of a particularly bountiful day at the Fred Meyer meat-clearance section.)

How to make soup out of (just about) anything

Yes—it’s true! It probably took me a good six months into the $35 a Week project to realize this, but most soups don’t require a recipe. In fact, there exists an extremely simple formula that allows for a fabulous soup out of just about anything you’ve got left over in your crisper or pantry. Yes, I made the formula up, but I’ve probably tested it close to 50 times by now, and I can assure you it works. Consider it your ace in the hole for fall, on days where you think there’s nothing in the house to eat when there is, in all likelihood, an entire meal—with leftovers—just waiting to be called into action. All you need is an onion, a few cloves of garlic, a tablespoon of cooking oil, salt, and some broth. See below for the formula and some easy-to-make examples.

French onion soup with bacon: $1.52/serving

For some reason I’ve been really craving French onion soup this week. Trashy French onion soup—extra-cheesy, extra sweet. It’s been hot (read: not soup weather), but as anyone who’s been pregnant knows, once there’s a craving, it doesn’t ever really go away until it’s fulfilled. The budget obviously precludes going out and ordering food at a restaurant like a normal person, so my only solution was to spend part of an 80-degree day sweating over the stove. Thankfully, it was worth it. This is a much different take on the French onion soup I made a few months ago; sweeter, with a little smoke from added bacon. (In the past I’ve complained that bacon overwhelms the soup, but this time I only added a tiny bit and it was perfect.)

Ye olde chicken noodle soup: 83 cents/serving

Found yourself a whole chicken on sale and not sure what to do with it? You’ve got two failsafe options: roast it (or, as I prefer to do, cut it up and roast the parts separately), or simmer it whole for soup. This week has been more of a soup week, so I chose to do the latter with my little friend. There’s nothing at all fancy, different, or innovative about this soup. It’s the one everyone’s mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother probably made; simple, comforting, and cheap, and nothing smells better bubbling away on top of the stove. In fact, you don’t even really need a recipe for it, but I’m providing one anyway for inspiration.

Bulgur-lentil soup with mint: 63 cents/serving

Few things are more healthily filling than the combination of bulgur and lentils, and few things are more simple and inexpensive to make than soup. Why not combine them? (And use up some more of the weed-like mint that has now aggressively popped up in almost every part of the garden?) This soup certainly won’t win any awards for innovation, but it’s warm, comforting, and so hearty that B. and I were completely stuffed after our single 63-cent servings.

Chinese chicken and ramen soup: 76 cents/serving

This is, admittedly, the first thing I’ve made in the slow cooker since November’s Malaysian beef curry that didn’t have me thinking, “meh.” I want to love my slow cooker, I really do, but anything cooked over four hours or so (with the exception of large cuts of beef or pork) just ends up tasting homogeneously, disappointingly bland. And if you’re only going to use a slow-cooker for four hours, that more or less defeats the purpose of using one in the first place, doesn’t it? Maybe this problem is due to my having a cheap Rival model, but buying a super-expensive slow cooker is just not something I ever plan on doing. Oh well. In any case, this is essentially glorified ramen, but the broth is phenomenal, the prep is simple, and it makes a ton.

White bean soup with pasta & rosemary oil: 63 cents/serving

Bean soup. If you’re on a budget, you’ve probably had more than your fair share of it, as it’s easy, inexpensive, healthy, and filling. It can also be kind of depressing. This soup to the rescue! It happens to be my absolute favorite bean soup of all time. It’s not overtly beany, with a smooth bisque texture and tons of flavor from both the soup base and the rosemary oil, plus pasta for textural and visual interest. This recipe makes a TON for around 5 bucks total, so you can freeze the soup base and make up a new batch with new pasta (the rosemary oil keeps a while in the fridge) whenever you feel like it, or, ideally, when you happen to have some hot, fresh crusty bread at the ready.

Chicken soup with lemon-pepper dumplings: $1.17/serving

It wasn’t until I really started cooking in earnest that I learned there are two kinds of dumplings: dropped dumplings and rolled dumplings. I had always assumed the big, fluffy dropped dumplings were “real” dumplings, until I noticed quite a few Southern cookbooks calling for dumplings that consisted of dough rolled out and cut like pasta. I’ve since decided I’m a fan of both styles, especially since the rolled kind are a boon for those too afraid or impatient to make proper pasta. Rolled too thick? Didn’t knead enough? Cut unevenly? Not a problem! They’re supposed to be rustic! This happens to be my favorite recipe for the rolled kind. It’s quick enough to make on a weeknight (especially a rainy, gloomy Portland weeknight), and just as homey and comforting as the dropped kind, in its own way.

French onion soup: 84 cents/serving

I am, admittedly, a French onion soup fanatic. I order it whenever I spot it on a menu, whether it’s an upscale French brasserie or a strip-mall Red Robin, and I’m constantly trying to perfect my own version. I’ve tried recipes with bacon (overwhelms everything), recipes with Vidalias or Walla Walla sweets (too cloying), recipes using a mixture of chicken broth and beef broth (too thin-tasting), red onions versus yellow onions, $25-a-pound Gruyère versus store-brand Swiss cheese, you name it. The perfect French onion soup, in my mind, should be beefy and full-bodied, cheesy but not all about the cheese, and redolent with caramelized-onion flavor without being too sweet. And, at long last, I believe I’ve been able to strike that balance, using an ingredient I actually had set aside for another dish.

White sweet potato soup: 77 cents/serving

You may already be aware that there are two kinds of sweet potatoes in U.S. grocery stores—the white kind no one buys, which look like regular potatoes, and the orange-fleshed ones everyone buys, labeled “yams,” but did you know that the orange-fleshed ones aren’t even really yams? THE GROCERY STORE IS LYING TO YOU! (Earth-shattering revelation!) Yams aren’t even potatoes. This issue came into stark relief the other week, when I asked B. to get some sweet potatoes and he came back with the white kind—in other words, the kind properly labeled “sweet potatoes,” even though I was looking for the orange kind but had refused to call them yams. I realized I had never even seen anyone purchase, let alone purchased and used myself, the white sweet potatoes. What were they for? What did they taste like?