Thanksgiving morning 7:00 AM: dinner time 4:00 PM:
“The turkey’s still frozen.”
“What? Both of them?”
They had been thawing in the fridge for 3 1/2 days, and brining for the last 14 hours in a salty, broth, honey solution. It should have been enough. It wasn’t. First thing in the morning I grabbed one of them out of the brine. I squeezed it and immediately noticed it’s remarkable similarity to that of a still- frozen turkey.... shit.
Funny how plans change. Originally I had planned to bake one and smoke one outside. Ten below zero outside temps squelched my smoking plans. My uninsulated smoker just doesn’t get hot enough when it’s cold out.
I contemplated the situation with coffee in hand. Maybe they can both fit in the oven at once, I thought. A tape measure told me no. The tin roasting tubs were flared out too much, besides the turkeys were too damn wide. OK think, think.
“The turkey’s still frozen.”
“What? Both of them?”
They had been thawing in the fridge for 3 1/2 days, and brining for the last 14 hours in a salty, broth, honey solution. It should have been enough. It wasn’t. First thing in the morning I grabbed one of them out of the brine. I squeezed it and immediately noticed it’s remarkable similarity to that of a still- frozen turkey.... shit.
Funny how plans change. Originally I had planned to bake one and smoke one outside. Ten below zero outside temps squelched my smoking plans. My uninsulated smoker just doesn’t get hot enough when it’s cold out.
I contemplated the situation with coffee in hand. Maybe they can both fit in the oven at once, I thought. A tape measure told me no. The tin roasting tubs were flared out too much, besides the turkeys were too damn wide. OK think, think.
I know, I’ll bone them out whole. It was decided. I’ve heard it can be done. Taking the bones out would allow the turkey to morph into any shape I so desired right? I should be able to fit both in the oven that way. A few Youtubes later I was on my way cutting and butchering the meat carefully away from the bone. Not too different from boning out any wild game I skinned, boned and cut my way around the turkey. Twenty minutes later Viola! There it was flayed out before me on the counter; One twenty-pound frozen-in-some-parts turkey minus the bones. Let the thawing commence! I grabbed the other bird and started hacking away.
After a while I made the stuffing and formed a giant egg shaped blob of it nestled it carefully on top. “Tamra, can I get some help please!”
Soon enough all four of our hands were pulling, pushing, and tucking the turkey up and around the ball of stuffing just like Patrick Swayze and Demi Moore in Ghost in the pottery wheel scene, minus the erotic passion. Our passion was entirely about frustration.
“ I AM pulling!”
“ Your other left!”
“ I am jack-ass!”
“Who you calling Jack?” I hate that movie. I digress.
I didn’t have the appropriate sewing twine on hand but I did have some wooden kabob skewers that worked for at least one anonymous Internet source. I finally got it sewed it up with the pointy wood sticking out every which way. It was finally contained in one piece! According to several other ubiquitous Internet sources the final product stitched up and stuffed should resemble the shape of the original turkey. Mine looked like a sad couch cushion. I wanted to sit on it.
We turned it over stitching side down into the aluminum roasting pan. I tried to fluff up the turkey cushion but it was only a cursory effort. The blob was already comfy in the shape it had become. I decided that I better leave enough alone.
After the second turkey was boned out, seasoned, stuffed, and stitched, we flipped it into the second aluminum roasting pan just like the first one. After much aluminum manipulation the oven door was opened for business. “Into the oven, you fowl beasts!” I shouted. A little grunting, shoving and bending of aluminum allowed for closure ( of the oven door I mean.)
The sigh of relief I was anticipating and any thought of a high-five was cut short when the wife noticed the large plumes of smoke billowing from the top vent of the oven. ‘What the hell is going on? How could it be burning already?”
One of the wooden skewers had apparently skewered it’s little way through the bottom of the roasting pan creating a pipeline of fat drippings onto the floor of the oven. Interesting.
Sometimes in life we are presented with challenges. We don’t always ask for them but in these trying times it is our true character that is revealed. I am reminded of the old Indian in “The Outlaw Jose Wales” who was encouraged by the Federal Government to “ Endeavor to Persevere.”
“Damn it! What the hell are we going to do now? We’re screwed, we are SCREWED!”
During my rant, the wife was starting to appear very foggy to me across the kitchen as the overhead hood vent was unable to keep up with the industrial revolution spewing from the oven.
“I’ts going to be okay. Grab that cookie sheet.” she calmly reassured me. I did what I was told. Together we transferred the dripping mess onto it and out of the oven. A quick scrape with a flat metal spatula freed most of the charred turkey fat.
“Do you want me to call my brother and tell him to warm up his oven?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
I remained put in the kitchen calming myself down while Tamra drove turkey number two over to her brothers house down the road. Soon the doorbell would ring. Appetizers of all kinds, desserts, in-laws, jello, champagne, parents, and fancy cheeses all would march their way through the door to the table. And as to be expected, all the usual rhythms, rituals, and traditions of Thanksgiving unfolded with much fanfare and laughter.
After a while I made the stuffing and formed a giant egg shaped blob of it nestled it carefully on top. “Tamra, can I get some help please!”
Soon enough all four of our hands were pulling, pushing, and tucking the turkey up and around the ball of stuffing just like Patrick Swayze and Demi Moore in Ghost in the pottery wheel scene, minus the erotic passion. Our passion was entirely about frustration.
“ I AM pulling!”
“ Your other left!”
“ I am jack-ass!”
“Who you calling Jack?” I hate that movie. I digress.
I didn’t have the appropriate sewing twine on hand but I did have some wooden kabob skewers that worked for at least one anonymous Internet source. I finally got it sewed it up with the pointy wood sticking out every which way. It was finally contained in one piece! According to several other ubiquitous Internet sources the final product stitched up and stuffed should resemble the shape of the original turkey. Mine looked like a sad couch cushion. I wanted to sit on it.
We turned it over stitching side down into the aluminum roasting pan. I tried to fluff up the turkey cushion but it was only a cursory effort. The blob was already comfy in the shape it had become. I decided that I better leave enough alone.
After the second turkey was boned out, seasoned, stuffed, and stitched, we flipped it into the second aluminum roasting pan just like the first one. After much aluminum manipulation the oven door was opened for business. “Into the oven, you fowl beasts!” I shouted. A little grunting, shoving and bending of aluminum allowed for closure ( of the oven door I mean.)
The sigh of relief I was anticipating and any thought of a high-five was cut short when the wife noticed the large plumes of smoke billowing from the top vent of the oven. ‘What the hell is going on? How could it be burning already?”
One of the wooden skewers had apparently skewered it’s little way through the bottom of the roasting pan creating a pipeline of fat drippings onto the floor of the oven. Interesting.
Sometimes in life we are presented with challenges. We don’t always ask for them but in these trying times it is our true character that is revealed. I am reminded of the old Indian in “The Outlaw Jose Wales” who was encouraged by the Federal Government to “ Endeavor to Persevere.”
“Damn it! What the hell are we going to do now? We’re screwed, we are SCREWED!”
During my rant, the wife was starting to appear very foggy to me across the kitchen as the overhead hood vent was unable to keep up with the industrial revolution spewing from the oven.
“I’ts going to be okay. Grab that cookie sheet.” she calmly reassured me. I did what I was told. Together we transferred the dripping mess onto it and out of the oven. A quick scrape with a flat metal spatula freed most of the charred turkey fat.
“Do you want me to call my brother and tell him to warm up his oven?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
I remained put in the kitchen calming myself down while Tamra drove turkey number two over to her brothers house down the road. Soon the doorbell would ring. Appetizers of all kinds, desserts, in-laws, jello, champagne, parents, and fancy cheeses all would march their way through the door to the table. And as to be expected, all the usual rhythms, rituals, and traditions of Thanksgiving unfolded with much fanfare and laughter.
In the not-so-back of my mind, I couldn’t help thinking about my two wayward couch-cushion- turkeys sizzling away in separate ovens. We did have a few boxes of Mac & Cheese in the pantry if it didn’t work out. Beanie-weenie in a pinch?
My apprehension laid to rest when several hours later my carving knife sliced directly through like a loaf of bread. Without bones to negotiate, each full slice contained white meat, dark meat, and stuffing. I looked over the table and saw that everyone had a crosscut section shaped like a couch cushion on their plate. It looked good.
My apprehension laid to rest when several hours later my carving knife sliced directly through like a loaf of bread. Without bones to negotiate, each full slice contained white meat, dark meat, and stuffing. I looked over the table and saw that everyone had a crosscut section shaped like a couch cushion on their plate. It looked good.
