As Thanksgiving is quickly approaching, I thought it best to share my “Great Turkey Disaster of 1996” story. That way, you can be VERY thankful I’m not having you over for Thanksgiving dinner this year.
It all started out so innocently. I had decided (for some very unknown reason) to invite my family to the house for a traditional Thanksgiving Dinner. This was in the day that I was still not welcomed at the wife’s family dinner, so I must have thought it a good idea to have my family of origin over for the day.
The wife traveled off in the wee hours toward Cheddarland, leaving me behind to create the perfect culinary delight of thanks. It was a horrible, miserable day—wind howling, dark grey clouds hovering, garbage blowing by in the cold November breeze. I was a bit worried about the wife driving on such a lousy day, but I had a dinner to worry about, so I put her out of my mind and turned to the stove.
First things first—I stared at the turkey, looked at the belly button, read the directions, stared at the turkey. I knew enough to pull the giblets out of the inside of the bird, so I had a moment of pride in the kitchen. I plopped those frozen goodies into the sink and returned to staring at the bird. I took out one of those turkey baggies—you know, one of those plastic cooking bags—and wrapped ol’ Tom Turkey in the bag. (I think I wiped him down with some butter before wrapping him up, but I can’t say for sure.) I tied up the bag, shoved the bagged bird into the giant aluminum pan and turned on the oven. I am all puffed up because I am on schedule and I am in charge of my turkey!
Then….30 minutes later…..
….the power goes out.
No oven. Can’t open the refrigerator. No heat. No microwave.
I don’t panic because there are four hours before anything needs to happen, as it’s four hours before my family will arrive. Still, I get a bit nervous….the turkey has only been cooking for 30 minutes. Everything I need besides the corn is in the refrigerator and I certainly can ‘t open that door. I pace.
I realized it was going to get mighty cold in the house without heat. So, I decided to make a fire in the fireplace as means of heating the house and giving it a warm, cozy holiday feel.
Words of wisdom: DO NOT make a fire in the fireplace on the windiest day of the year.
I start the fire even though I hear the wind whipping down the chimney and into the fireplace. It doesn’t dawn on me this might not be a good thing. I get that puppy burning and then wind whips in and FILLS the house with smoke and soot and ashes and embers. I’m not kidding. Soot everywhere! I look at the what used to be white lampshade and think OH SHIT! This is SO not good. I’m trying to put the fire out, I’m trying to stop the soot, I’m dumb enough to close the flue in an effort to keep the wind from howling in, but this only means ALL the smoke now comes into the house. I reopen the flue, choking through the dust.
Insult to injury, the fire alarms start going off, so I now have to open the windows and doors. And, I thought it was cold before all this nonsense started.
I am in sheer panic. It’s been two hours without electricity, the house is freezing and smoking, the turkey is rotting in the oven and there is nothing I can do….
….so I call the wife, who is just sitting down to a delicious home-made dinner with her family. Like she can do anything.
Three and a half hours later, the power comes on. I leap up in joy, crank the heat, crank the oven, start opening cans and boxes like mad, put the pie in the oven next to the turkey.....
I figure turning the oven WAY up will make everything cook faster.
I’m serious.
The family shows up and I explain what has happened and my father, who has been in the food service business his entire life, gives a skeptical-we-are-all-going-to-die-if-we-eat-that-turkey look to me, but I prevail. We have to wait several hours for dinner, as the turkey needed time. Of course, I forget about the pie and burn the PISS out of it. (Black crust. Mmmm. Tasty.) In the meantime, I’m heating canned corn and mashing potatoes. I peek in at the turkey and notice….
….hey! I can’t see the belly button!
Where did it go? I know it was in there when I started cooking this thing. I call my father over and point out that I can’t see the belly button anymore. We decide it must have popped out and thus the turkey must be done.
He helps take the bird out of the oven and I ask for his assistance with the carving of the turkey. We look at the bird and kind of have quizzical looks—something is wrong here, but I can’t put my finger on it. He goes to start carving….and nothing. There is like NO meat. I FREAK. This is like a 20-zillion pound turkey and he’s carving bones. He looks at me, looks at the turkey, gives me that smirk look he has and then turns the turkey over.
I have cooked it upside down.
When he flips it over, we can see the belly button. Go figure.
Suffice it to say, the turkey was like eating a hockey puck, the pie was black, the corn was cold and the potatoes were lumpy. Well, at least the Stove top Stuffing wasn't a complete loss. It was a nightmare of a meal. My father, always one to have the last word, says, “no one ever said you could cook.”
Touche.
I’ve been a vegetarian ever since.
Gobble Gobble!
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