With one week ‘til Thanksgiving I am reminded of blessings, family and gatherings of times past. With each of these individual warm thoughts, I also remember the turkey incidents.
Turkey, that wonderful bird served nation wide on the third Thursday of every year. Turkey, the main dish that is oh so moist, tender and filling, or … dry, cold and hacked to death after carving. Then there are the years where it’s somewhere in between.
In our house the bird is given great consideration … each and every year! One would think we’d have it down by now, considering we’ve been cooking one for over 35 years. But, no, about a week before every Thanksgiving the husband and I have a discussion about how we’re going to address the turkey.
There is the ‘stuffing in or out of the bird’ discussion; the ‘breast up or down’ argument; ‘if not stuffing then what should we put in it’ conversation. On and on it goes, year after year. And each year we try a little something new.
Twenty-five years ago or so, we decided not to stuff the bird. My thought process was I didn’t have to stick my hand in that wet, cold cavity. Plus, I like my stuffing with a little crust on it. The husband had no problem with this, so an empty turkey went into the oven.
The next year we again agreed on this method but thought we should put something inside the cavity and that started a whole new discussion which became heated at times. Lemons, apples, celery, onion, pepper corns, rosemary, salt, garlic or any combination of the above. Recipes were consulted and thought was given to the taste of the gravy, (an important feature of Thanksgiving for the husband, who wants it on everything). We finally lit on celery, onion, pepper corns, and salt. Nothing to radical or high end about that decision but it did make excellent gravy.
Several years later came the brining question. Having kept up with the Food Channel, the husband set his mind on this procedure and went about gathering the necessary items. He sent me to Home Depot for an orange bucket with lid; to the store for a large quantity of salt, bay leaves, and pepper corns. We made copious amounts of ice. He then set about unwrapping the bird, cleaning it and patting it dry. I mentioned I didn’t think this last step was necessary as it was going to be plunged into a bucket of brine, but, my advice was not accepted. In fact, I was told to go away.
Upon hearing this I was torn between being hurt that I wasn’t wanted and joy that I wasn’t needed. I went with joy and proceeded to watch a Lifetime movie.
He finally got that turkey in the bucket full of brine and set up out in the garage for the night in the orange bucket with the lip snapped in place. The next morning we woke early to get Tom in the oven. He schlepped in the bucket, placed it on the counter and looked at me expectantly.
“What”, I asked.
“Well, aren’t you going to take it out and get it in the oven” he asked?
“You mean it’s now up to me to take over”?
“Yes”, he answered.
It was then I knew I was back in charge and ready to create a bird of exquisite beauty.
“Alright, then get out of my kitchen”, said I and he trotted away to go watch a game.
It wasn’t but 10 minutes later he popped back into the kitchen. I had rinsed the brine off and was starting to put aromatics in the cavity and truss it when he piped up with,
“What did you put in there?”
And so it started, the commentary, the questioning and suggestions. Being in charge was far too brief.
Then came the year we contemplated breast side up or down. These were the topics that stretched our minds. But back to the turkey breast. Having roasted it for years with the breast up, we decided to flip that bird upside down. The Food Network theory was the juices will all run downhill making the breast tender and moist. Okay.
What used to come out of the oven all tanned, golden and plump, probably a D cup, now came out golden and flat. Plus the legs were going the wrong way. When I flipped him over, it looked as if he’d had a breast reduction. Or was lying down. Either way, those breasts were flat as a size A. They were juicy alright, but visually there was a lot to be desired. Lets just say he would not grace any magazine cover. In subsequent years our turkey never laid on his front again.
I tried it in a bag once. That was a mess, trying to get the bag extricated from the turkey and drippings with out slopping it on the floor. And yes, I did get it all over the floor…and then slipped in it and fell on my bum…and then got up and dropped the turkey on the floor and spent the next ½ hour cleaning myself, the turkey and the floor. I served on time and with a whole bird to present. No one ever knew not even the husband.
A few years ago the husband became convinced the white meat and the dark meat would never get done together, no matter the method. That opinion brought me to Whole Foods. I trotted up to the butcher and asked if I could buy the breasts and legs/thighs separately. I was told they didn’t have that in the cooler but they would be happy to split apart a turkey for me. I went home with that bird in four pieces.
Arriving home I unpacked the groceries and pondered that four-piece bird. Somehow I felt it wouldn’t be enough. And now that I was aware I could get it in pieces, what would be the harm in getting two more legs? Or another breast? Whole Foods was a bit far to make a short trip but New Seasons was near. They had always taken very good care of me so out I went in search of turkey parts.
I now had to have multiple roasting pans to cover all of our turkey needs. Plus brining was even more complicated due to the mass size of it all. In went the dark meat in one pan. The proper time elapsed and in went the two breasts in two different pans.
People were starting to gather and the appetizers were quickly consumed. I took out the breasts to rest before carving but forgot the dark meat altogether. I mean, I forgot it totally til the end of the meal. It was at this point I realized I made turkey jerky because what came out of the oven after all the guests left was a mere shadow of it’s former self. Now the parts were only good for making stock.
It still is a puzzle to me why nobody said anything about the missing dark meat. Granted the white meat was delicious but you would think someone, (the husband) would comment on no legs or thighs. Curious. Were they being gracious? Was the husband aware I was so tired and even a hint of questioning would put me over the edge? I will never know.
I’m sure this year will be the same discussion, pondering and planning. The turkey will remain the star of the show. The only thing I need to do on my own is get a new bucket. You see, I used the old one for gardening last summer, even though it said in large black print, “TURKEY BUCKET.” Don’t tell the husband.
magicalmess 