I made a mistake.
I told my mom I would like to make the turkey for Christmas dinner with her help because I’d never really done it before and I needed to learn.
She grabbed upon my suggestion with glee, because she believes she’s failed to teach me anything useful in the culinary department because I believe Taco Bell makes great bean burritos and Kraft mac and cheese is preferable to the homemade slushy macaroni with congealed cheese on the top.
As a result, I’ve just spent about 30 minutes with my hands all over a turkey carcass and I’m reeling from the total impropriety of sticking my hands inside anything’s cavity for any purpose, whatsoever.
It was like watching someone give birth, except instead of a baby the neck and gizzard were peeking out . My mom told me I had to keep the extra skin and tail attached so I could seal the cavity later.
Excuse me, I just vomited in my mouth.
That poor, poor bird. I started muttering, “I’m so sorry, Tom!” to the bird under my breath while my mom mocked me from the far side of the kitchen. My mom told me most turkeys we eat are “toms” and the “hens” are left alone. (Finally, a system where it works out better for you to be a girl!)
That poor, poor, turkey. I hope it wasn’t a free range, happy turkey, because that is a serious downer for the bird to go from freedom to supper. I look at it’s pitiful little wings, all scrawny and pulled up close to the body, the legs, plastic tying them together so the bird stays in a manageable heap… this whole process is terribly disheartening and disgusting!
After massaging the salt rub into that poor turkey and watching it’s pimply flesh move over the meat I think I’m going to become a vegetarian. Or at least go for the spiral-cut ham next year.
Really, I’m ok with anything that doesn’t have a cavity and make me feel like I’m a fowl molester.
Someone tell me I’m not the only one who feels this way when preparing to cook a turkey?!