A Miscarriage of Turkey
Categories: Lizard Talk

Mrs. Lizard King brought up a forbidden topic the other day.  She said that we should cook our own turkey this year.

It was very brave of her to say this.  She knows how deeply the old wound still burns.

Seven years ago we tried to cook a turkey.  I mean, cook a raw turkey.  None of this pre-smoked bullshit.  We got Alton Brown’s recipe from the Food Network.  Alton Brown, host of the long running Good Eats, said that basting was a waste of time, since the broth just runs off of the meat and isn’t absorbed.  So, we did not baste.  Alton also said that continually opening the oven to baste the turkey lengthened the cooking time.  It was best to put it in the oven and keep the door closed until the bird was done.  So, that’s what we did.

I slaved over that turkey.  I had great hopes for that turkey.  That turkey was like the child I could never have.  (Don’t worry, it’s not a physical thing; I’m just not crazy about kids.)  We followed Alton’s recipe to the letter.  We checked the temperature just like Alton said.  No cheap pop up thingy for us.  No, sir.  Alton said that would cause the succulent juices to drain out, leaving our golden turkey a dry, mummified husk.  We used a fancy meat thermometer.  When it was time, we checked the temp, and it was just as it should have been.  We set about carving our first we-did-it-all-ouselves Thanksgiving turkey.  The result?

The turkey was still red in the middle.

Red.  Blood red.

The turkey was still red for the love of Moses, Alton, it was still red you sonofabitch!

Okay. Deep breath.

I told you, it’s a touchy subject.  I get emotional.

I ended up dismantling the turkey and frying it.  Fried turkey.  For Thanksgiving.

Fried turkey for Thanksgiving, Alton!  Bet you never had to have fried turkey for Thanksgiving you monkey loving AntiChrist!

Okay.  Oh, boy.  I’m going to have cut this post short.

Anyhow, Mrs. Lizard King convinced me that after seven years of mourning, it was time to give it another go.  We’ve already bought the victim- I mean, the subject – I mean, the Butterball.  It doesn’t feel like ours yet.  I’m hoping in a few days that will change.  Maybe we’ll do some bonding activities with it.  Take it to the movies or something, I don’t know.

I promise not to leave you hanging.  I will document this procedure every step of the way.  Just like they did in the movie Splice.

On second thought, that’s a really disturbing example.  Forget I said that.

Oh, did I mention we’re also having pie?

Categories: Lizard Talk -

1 Comment to “A Miscarriage of Turkey”