The Hot Brown: Kentucky’s broiled, bubbly answer to “What am I supposed to do with all this turkey?” (Patreon)

A broiled, bourbon-adjacent, leftover-turkey redemption arc from the Commonwealth’s finest hangover engineer.

The only bet I’ve ever won was at a Derby Day party hosted by my old friend and Louisville native, Meredith Smith. With 50-to-1 odds against Mine That Bird, I walked out $49 richer and on a one dollar, one-game winning streak that I’ve protected by never betting again. Still, if I were the gambling type, here’s a wager I’d take any day: in the 1920s, during Prohibition, Chef Fred Schmidt of Louisville’s Brown Hotel absolutely knew where to find bourbon. Nothing else explains how he dreamed up the mother of all Hangover Helpers—the Hot Brown.

The Hot Brown is a broiled, sauce-covered turkey sandwich, in the vein of a French Croque monsieur, or a Welsh rarebit. But describing it that way undersells everything that makes the dish iconic. Thick toast at the bottom, thick slabs of turkey on top, a couple thick wedges of tomato nestled on the side, and then the real star: a lava-flow volume of broiled Mornay sauce topped with a couple slices of bacon.

It also happens to be one of the best ways to use leftover Thanksgiving turkey. By the time the holiday itself rolls around, I’ve usually roasted multiple pre-Thanksgiving test birds, which means I’ve got a surplus of cold turkey staring at me from the fridge. A Hot Brown is the perfect way to give those test slices a warm, melty second life.

Stacking the Turkey Odds: A Hot Brown Breakdown

My version starts with thick-cut bread tucked into an oven-safe dish. Pottery is traditional, but I have a cast iron skillet that is just the right side. In place of Texas toast, I use shokupan because I almost always have some around, and its softness and thickness are perfect here. The bread is served crust-off with one slice left whole and the second cut into triangles and placed like wings next to the first. Next I nestle a couple wedges of Roma tomato next to the bread.

Once the bread, turkey slices, and tomatoes are arranged, everything goes into a 400°F oven along with a couple slices of bacon on a separate sheet pan to begin cooking. You want it only halfway cooked at this stage—rendered enough to brown quickly under the broiler later. Meanwhile, the pre-toast helps the bread keep a bit of structure once the Mornay floods in.

While everything warms up in the oven, I start the sauce. A proper Hot Brown Mornay starts with a very classic béchamel: equal parts fat and flour cooked together to the blonde stage: just enough that it doesn't taste raw but doesn't start to take on any coloring—this isn’t gumbo, and browning adds a nutty flavor that doesn’t belong here.

Then comes the trick I will happily repeat forever: always add cold liquid to a hot roux. Turns out the classic advice to add hot liquid a little at a time is the reason why béchamel often turns out lumpy: When hot liquid hits a hot roux, the exterior of each fat-coated clump of flour can gelatinize instantly, producing an impenetrable sheath that prevents the interior from properly hydrating and swelling, producing those dreaded unwhiskable little beads. Cold cream or milk cools the roux down fast, giving you time to whisk everything into a smooth, lump-free sauce.

The Brown Hotel’s version of béchamel uses heavy cream in place of milk (which gives Hollandaise a run for its money for Most Butterfat-Rich Sauce Served Before 11AM), and to transforn the béchamel into a Mornay, a good amount of Pecorino Romano cheese. Adding the grated cheese off-heat and reheating while whisking constantly ensures a nice, smooth, even melt.

By the time the sauce is smooth, glossy, and the consistency of a loose cake batter, the bread and turkey are ready to come out. I flip the slices of bread so the toasted surface faces down—this helps keep the bottoms from becoming completely soggy—and then ladle on the Mornay. For a proper Hot Brown, you don’t drizzle; you smother.

A dusting of paprika goes on top for color, then I take the half-cooked bacon out of the oven and cross the slices over the sauce. From here it goes under the broiler, and this is where the transformation happens. The top blisters, the edges bubble violently, the bacon crisps fully, the tomatoes wrinkle and concentrate in intensity, and the sauce breaks and browns around the edges

With a towel in place to remind folks that the pan is hot (I've burned the skin off my hand grabbing a bare-handled, broiler-hot skillet before, and it's a mistake I've only made once), I finished the dish with another dusting of pecorino and a pinch of parsley. I took an immediate bite (for science), burned off the roof of my mouth (a mistake I make virtually daily), then brought the rest over to my partner Tessa—who, as a Kentuckian, keeps me honest about whether I’ve honored or offended her home state.

This one was Kentuckian-approved.

Recipe: The Kentucky Hot Brown

Yield: 2 sandwichesActive Time: 20 minutesTotal Time: 35 minutes

What I love about this recipe:

Thick-cut turkey gets a second life that’s better than the first.

The Mornay is plush, smooth, and broils perfectly without splitting.

It uses a handful of simple ingredients.

Ingredients

For the Mornay sauce

2 tablespoons (30g) unsalted butter

1 tablespoon (8g) all-purpose flour

1 cup (240ml) cold heavy cream

½–¾ cup grated Pecorino Romano (1 1/2 to 2 ounces; 45–60g), plus more for topping

Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

Optional: pinch of nutmeg

For the sandwiches

4 slices thick-cut bread (Texas toast, Pullman, or shokupan), crusts trimmed

8 to 10 ounces (225–280g) leftover roast turkey or deli roast turkey, sliced into 1/2-inch-thick pieces

1 Roma tomato, quartered

4 slices thick-cut bacon

Paprika (for dusting)

Chopped parsley (for garnish)

Method

Make the Mornay.Melt butter in a small saucepan over medium heat. Whisk in flour and cook until raw aroma is gone but the mixture remains pale (a blonde roux), about 1 minute.

Add the cold cream.Add the cold cream all at once and whisk continuously until the sauce bubbles and thickens.

Finish the Mornay.Remove from heat. Whisk in grated Pecorino until melted and smooth. Season lightly with salt, pepper, and optional nutmeg.

Heat the oven and build the base.Preheat to 400°F (205°C). Arrange the trimmed bread in an ovenproof dish (cast iron, ceramic, or stoneware preferred), fitting slices snugly. Tuck tomato wedges around the edges and lay turkey slices on top.

Start the bacon.Place bacon on a sheet pan and transfer the bread and the bacon to the oven. Bake until the bread is lightly browned, the turkey is hot, and the bacon is about half-cooked, 8 to 10 minutes. Remove everything from the oven, switch the oven to broil, and flip any browned bread slices over (you don't need to flip the ones protected by turkey).

Add Sauce and Broil:

Spoon a generous amount of Mornay over the turkey, fully covering it. Dust with paprika. Lay the half-cooked bacon strips on top, making an X with every two strips. Broil until the sauce is bubbling and browned in spots and bacon is crisp, 2 to 5 minutes.

Finish and serve.Carefully remove the pan from the oven. Immediately top with extra Pecorino and chopped parsley. Serve straight away with forks and knives.