Until my sister married her husband, I did not believe that turkey could have a purpose beyond being a perfunctory slab on my Thanksgiving plate for the side dishes to orbit. Even after my brother-in-law took charge of the bird one year and smoked it to as close as a turkey can come to perfection, I was still not convinced.
Then, a few years ago, he started making smoked turkey salad to eat the day after Thanksgiving. I am not sure what he puts in it—I am not sure he knows what he puts in it—but I think it’s some combination of Duke’s, Dijon, dill relish, Durkee’s (a condiment that has been tragically discontinued), celery, onion, fresh dill, and whatever other bits occur to him during the moment of creation. It is tangy and smoky and herby and good—so good that I eat even less turkey on Thanksgiving than I did before and stand over the bird during clean-up picking off every last bit of meat so he can make more, so good that the rest of us fight over how much we get to spoon onto our sandwiches. It disappears faster than anything on the original Thanksgiving spread.
Turns out, my family is not alone in this tradition. Chef Breanne Kostyk of Flour Moon Bagels in New Orleans has her own version, which also happens to make use of leftover smoked turkey, and she does have the recipe written down. “Most Thanksgiving sandwiches you see recreate the full plate of turkey and sides,” she says. “I wanted to create something different that had all the seasonal flavors but didn’t feel like a carbon copy of the meal itself.”
The result is a turkey salad studded with cranberries, walnuts, shallot, and kumquats, perfect for piling high on a bagel (she uses cranberry sage). Make it the night before to let the flavors mingle, Kostyk advises, and consider adding a little more mayo because the ingredients will soak up the moisture. “It’s really bright and citrusy with the kumquats and cranberries,” she says, “and herbaceous like you would expect from traditional turkey or stuffing.”
