An Actually Good Leftover Turkey Sandwich

Like daylight savings and quarter life crises, post-Thanksgiving turkey is inexplicable but unavoidable. With all the best bits (golden skin, neatly carved slices) already plundered, that cold container of leftover scraps looks like the backs of my hands in winter—dry, leathery, picked at. So what are we gonna do with it?

I’ve done the “make a big pot of stock” thing. Which, great, but no one warns you of the disturbingly wet, squelchy mulch left behind or the hunt for thirteen hundred containers to house all this stock. It’s a pass for me. I’ve also repurposed my leftover turkey into soft congee with frozen corn, pasta with mushrooms and cream, slippery glass noodles with tons of chili crisp. Each extremely delicious but through it all, it’s a turkey sandwich that I come back to every year.

Maybe you’re thinking, I don’t need you to tell me about a turkey sandwich; I can make one standing in front of the fridge. This one is different, I promise. My leftover turkey melt is modeled after an old-fashioned, diner-style tuna melt. It’s more than a cobbled-together concoction of slippery meat and congealed cranberry sauce. It’s warm, melty, toasted, gooey—a hot mess in the best possible way. The sort of thing that for once makes you hope, even pray, for leftovers. Your reward for yet another Thanksgiving under your belt, more delightful than the main event, like that bite of chocolate at the bottom of your ice cream cone.

This is not the time for crusty, seedy bread

Many sandwiches later, I’ve found sliced white sourdough holds up best. Regular, bagged sandwich bread gets soggy under the weight of the filling. Anything seedy or crusty doesn’t have the right amount of squish and will cut the roof of your mouth when you go to take a bite.

Shred your turkey instead of dicing it

Shred the turkey by hand instead of chopping it with a knife. Aim for small-ish pieces and don’t worry about consistency. Irregular strands absorb the mayo more readily and won’t slip and slide out of your sandwich. I’ve made this also with rotisserie chicken with smashing success.

Veggies (pickled peppers especially) are a must

Finely chopped celery is a cool, refreshing respite from the richness of everything else. Scallions and a goodly amount of herbs say, “I like green things and unironically using the word vegetal.” Lemon zest is all sunshine and sparkles. And the one that you absolutely cannot skip: pickled peppers. I’m partial to pickled jalapenos from a can (not a jar), but you can choose any pickled pepper. Homemade or store-bought; spicy or not; banana or cherry; Greek or Spanish or Italian. So long as they are vinegary and spicy, they will put the sandwich on a spaceship and send it to the moon.

Do not make me defend American cheese again

Fine! I will. I’ve said it before and I shan’t stop now––American cheese deserves your respect. My go-to is Kraft Deli Deluxe (which is all real cheese), or if you have more patience, get some sliced to order from the deli. Cheddar can try, but American gives your sandwich a level of adhesion and ooze no other cheese can quite replicate.

Griddled on a hot pan, turkey melts are fun and filling, universal in their appeal. A delicious sandwich that feels intentional and thought out—almost like you bought too big of a bird for this very reason. So add a can of pickled peppers and a pack of cheese to your shopping list this week. You’ll regret nothing.