People all over the States are gearing up for the gastrointestinal cram-fest known as Thanksgiving. The day where we gather friends & family around a table groaning under the weight of a metric-shit-ton of food and dine until we are all too full to do anything other than fall asleep on the couch while watching the NFL.
Some Americans further plan on going to the stores the next day, to participate in a public brawl of epic proportions in the hopes of getting a great deal on something that will go under a tree in a month, and in the trash the month after that when it breaks.
I do neither of these things – but who am I to judge…
I don’t do a full bird on T-day. I’ve done variations – such as just the breast, (which is the only turkey meat I enjoy) and those little turkey-loafs in the freezer section. You know the ones I’m talking about – turkey meatloaf, frozen in an aluminum tin of its own gravy, that you pop in the oven and bake until the paper lid burns?
I can hear the kitchen-warriors out there screaming in terror as I type this
I cooked a full bird once.
Let me say that again: ONCE.
It was a very scary experience. First – I’m not a whiz in the kitchen. Sure, I can make pies (as long as I get store-bought crusts & fillings), cakes and cookies (from a mix), and broil a steak (well done, anyone?). I can do things with vegetables that probably shouldn’t be discussed in polite company…
And do have a couple of good family passed-down recipes that make some pretty tasty stuff. The family never starved or lacked variety in a diet when I was head of the kitchen, although we probably did consume too much salt.
But when it comes to really, REALLY involved stuff – like a full bird? A baked Alaska? A souffle? The best I can do is a stern warning to DUCK AND COVER.
The last time I attempted to cook a full bird for T-Day – I ended up summoning an Elder God…badly. We managed to get a snapshot of the beastie JUST before it sprang to life, and managed to beat it into submission with the gravy boat.
Thank (Insert Supernatural Being of your Choosing) I’m not a better kitchen witch, eh?