Happy Turkey Day to all.
As I am under the weather due to persistent sinus & cough, I doubt I will be making it out to see people or to eat a full meal today. This is in stark contrast to the Thanksgiving meals I knew when I was growing up. We'd have my mother's immediate family over every year, and if we were lucky, we'd even get my father's mom over the house. She always accepted the first invite she was given... I think we only had her at the house twice all those years.
I enjoyed watching the preparation of the turkey & pumpkin pie, among other things. Fallen to me, I have not come close to preparing anything as complicated. But I have tried, twice.
The first year was at the Dearborn apartment, when co-workers sprung for me to cook a turkey for the department. The 22-pound bird actually turned out perfectly, although I made one fatal mistake. Though the pan I used was oven-safe, it wasn't your classic covered pan; it was something I picked up for about $4.00, and it bent too much.
Then, splash! All the turkey basting ended up on top of the stove when I took the pan out for the last time. Heck, the apartment smelled a lot nicer for days afterward, but try cleaning turkey baste off a stubborn stove.
Then in 2004, I bought a 17-pound turkey, determined to do things right this time. I carefully recalled all the preparation time my mother had put into it, and even double-checked with my aunt for the cooking procedure. Now I've been accused of rushing the cooking process by cranking the oven up 100 degrees to save time - but we all know that results in uneven cooking. I was to go by the book this time and slow cook it, so it would be the best experience possible.
I had the basting times down to a science: every 25 minutes. So the kitchen timer would buzz every 25 minutes, with the roommate thinking the turkey was done. About the ninth time, I just started rolling my eyes and saying "No Steve, the turkey's not done yet." To this day, whenever we set the timer for anything (even to reset the clock to DST), we both chorus those seven words.
But that story didn't have a happy ending. Despite the slow cook time at a good temperature, the inner workings of the turkey were hardly cooked. We ended up eating fragments of the skin & outer meat while spitting at the flat mashed potatoes. And this was after I found out I never even took the giblets bag out of the damn turkey! I was shocked & amazed it held out in the oven for so long without burning up.
This year? No encore, sorry to say. My parents & I went to a country club one year for Thanksgiving, and I remember complaining we were away from the family and the fuss. My mother reminded me that she needed to relax that year.
Having two, um, interesting experiences with turkey cooking myself, I can appreciate that need to relax.
