While the Pilgrims never landed in my original hometown (although King Felipe and Queen Isabella sent their own versions of landgrabbers...), my family has always celebrated Thanksgiving day. In the past, in my rebellion against all things traditional, I opted for roasting 15 cornish game hens stuffed with rosemary and boursin cheese; slathered and basted with Bovril). Last year, prodded by the family's new, US born generation, the clamor for Turkey overrode my refusal to spend 6 hours in the kitchen watching Big Bird get a tan.
So last year, my kids named the bird Fred.
Last night, we bought Steve. He now sits in my kitchen, butt naked.
(PETA members and vegetarians, pls log off now)
Soon, Steve will be drowned for 24 hours until he is well lubricated and completely intoxicated.
Tomorrow, he will be subjected to more humilation and torture, slapped and slathered in some slimy liquid, then made to sit under a hot lamp for hours. He will be grilled and slathered some more until he is ready to deliver the truth. Once he's totally aclimated to the heat, he'll be yanked out of his comfort zone and made to sit once again on a cold slab with his legs all tied up, sticking up in the air and waiting for someone to untie him. Then, he's get sliced into pieces and served on a silver platter to a hungry mob waiting to devour him.
LOL. This sounds more like a Daniel Craig as James Bond movie, or the inquisition by Henry VIII during the reformation ...than a Thanksgiving meal.
Poor Steve. He never had a chance. But, Sonia did warn me- this is not a good week for turkeys.
He will, however, serve his purpose. He'll be part of a family gathering and a feast prepared with love. He'll remind us all that we have to thank God for our freedom, our comforts and our blessings.
Stay tuned for post-turkey results. With wine in hand as I start to cook all day today and tomorrow, I'm sure there will be equal amount of kitchen disasters and successes, which makes Thanksgiving a fodder for entertainment.
Oh, and thank you, Steve.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Steve, the Turkey
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3 comments:
Naming a bird before you consume it... It reminds me of the time my Mom bought a $50 lobster for her birthday (this was back in the late-70's, so $50 was A LOT) and it landed on the table, eyes looking, and my brother said, "You're not REALLY going to eat 'Crusty' are you Mom?!" See, my brother had named ALL of the LIVE lobsters sitting in the tank. Mom gently put the napkin over "Crusty's" body (to keep him warm) and Dad had a fit that $50 was wasted on a bath for a lobster that was never to be eaten.
Somehow I think if named it before, I wouldn't be able to eat it. But who knows -- after a few glasses of whatever runneth over my cup while I'm cooking tonight / tomorrow, being on a first name basis with my future dinner might be a GOOD thing. "Bob" comes to mind -- b/c it's GOT to be a boy-turkey that we're eating as no girl-turkey would be dumb enough to get caught in the first place! :)
Happy Thanksgiving to all!
I'm expecting 48 tomorrow--I think we have two Steves and a Wilbur!
I have Steve too..but i don't roast him and stuff him. We kinda smoke him *grinnn*
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