Our daughter decided she wanted to cook the major part of the Thanksgiving feast this year: turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes; she even took on the veggie tray. (Those outside the United States will probably not understand the importance of "the veggie tray")
This would be her first attempt at a meal that makes even seasoned cook's knees wobble. Yet, I had every confidence that she would do a great job. (She's very smart) Besides, I was thrilled to not be cooking. After 37 or 38 years of slaving over the Pilgrim feast didn't I deserve a little break? Truthfully I do remember going to my Dad's for a few Turkey days, my niece's one year, and Disneyland for another where we ate some sort of weird turkey dinner in an Irish pub.
Anyway, back to my daughter. The adventure began weeks before Turkey Day. She went online to look up stuffing recipes. She watched episode after episode of The Food Network. She debated fresh turkey vrs. frozen turkey, or whether to stuff the turkey or not to stuff the turkey.
Thanksgiving morning arrived and I was feeling very grateful for my darling daughter. And, as if she knew I was thinking about her, she called.
"Mom?" (a slight panic in the voice)
"Good morning!"
"Mom, this turkey looks gross. Is it suppose to look gross like that?"
"Yes, it's just fine. You're just used to seeing it all brown and yummy. Just clean it well and put it in the roaster. It'll look terrific in about four hours. Did you remember to take out the giblets?"
"Yes. What's in that little white bag, anyway?"
"Well...heart, liver..."
"Stop! Don't tell me! I'm just going to throw that away!"
"Yea, good idea."
Twenty minutes later she called again.
"Mom." (a sad tone in the voice)
"Yes?"
"Do you think Fred had a good life?"
"Fred?"
"Fred, the turkey."
"You named the turkey?"
"Yes. Do you think he had a good life?"
"I think he was a noble creature who served his purpose."
"Really?"
"Really. If it makes you feel better say a little Native American prayer of Thanksgiving for his sacrifice."
"That's a good idea. Thanks, Mom."
"You're welcome."
"See you at 3:30."
"Looking forward to it."
"Don't forget the green bean casserole."
"I won't. I love you. Oh, and just a little advise."
"Yes."
"If you do the turkey next year..."
"Yes?"
"Don't give it a name."
3 comments:
Oh, Gale!That is too, too funny!!
What a fun adventure! I'm so glad you shared. My # 2 son cooked his first turkey this last week for a holiday dinner party for some friends. We stopped by the day after and we sampled his efforts. He did a great job! It's rather nice to pass on the baton. Perhaps we'll have him cook next year's Thanksgiving turkey. And you're right---never name the turkey. ;)
I am never going to forget this story. Every time i bake a turkey I'm going to think of Fred. I am so glad you shared this!
Post a Comment