Wow that was weird, I can’t believe he just hijacked this blog post. But he’s right. You all know me and that I rarely exaggerate anything, but this thanksgiving was increáblé, as no language says it. I believe Daniel said, “Thanksgiving is with your family, THIS is friends-giving.” So I guess I had the best friends-giving of all time last night. Let me delve into my memory database mainframe and entertain y’all with this scintillating tale.
Friday: KB aids me in going to Open Produce to pick up my turkey. Her name was Delilah and boy was she beautiful. At a healthy 13.4 lbs, Delilah, freeze wrapped and ready to go, came to her home with me and KB. I could tell she was excited, but before any action, she had to be thawed. I stuck her in the fridge and the waiting began.
Saturday: Delilah is still relaxing in the fridge. She’s so beautiful. I can’t wait to put her in the oven.
Sunday Afternoon: At about noon, I stuck Delilah in a cooler full of water (which I replaced to keep cool every 30 mins) until approximately four pm. During her last stretch of thawing, I baked a pumpkin cake (the recipe to which I mastered for Ellen’s birthday last week). Thanks to Liz’s cake pans, I made it a double layer cake and frosted it with cinnamon butter-cream frosting. booyah. I also made some appeteaser bacon, baked with black pepper and brownsugar (idea via my mom circa my high school open house). Needless to say I was busy as FUCK up in thehousekitchen. But as you’ll find out later, it was well worth the effort. After the cake and the bacon were finished, it was time to prepare Delilah for her destiny. Getting her ready for the oven was like preparing a daughter for her wedding day. She looked so beautiful sitting in that pan covered in butter and salt and thyme, surrounded by brother and onions and garlic and more butter. I didn’t have a rack for the roasting pan so my mom suggested I make a rack out of celery (WHICH IS GENIUS), so I did. There she sat, atop her celery thrown, waiting to become golden brown. If Delilah hadn’t been a raw turkey, I would’ve kissed her before she went into the oven, but alas. I carefully placed her in the oven that had been preheated to 450 but then turned down to 350 and closed the oven door with a proud smile. To make another completely appropriate analogy to a turkey being my daughter, putting her in the oven was like watching a daughter drive by herself for the first time. I wanted to check up on her frequently but I knew that I needed to give her space and time. But, as any worried parent would, I gave her a cell phone and texted her, telling her not to forget to lock the doors of the car. This, of course, is my analogy to basting. Yes, just like an oddly worded text message from a parent that takes you away from your friends for a moment, I had to take Delilah out of the oven ever 30 mins to baste her. I know she didn’t like being out of the oven, but it was a necessary deed, for both of us.
Sunday Evening: At approximately 7:10 pm EST on November 18, 2012, Delilah, my first turkey daughter, had finished cooking. I took her out of the oven and stuck a thermometer into her. Temperature rising. 140 good keep going. 155 yes oh no it’s slowing. 160 holy shit we’re almost there. 163. 164. 165. We made it. Officially, she was done per the USDA’s Food Safety and Inspection Service’s website standards. She smelled delicious, looked delicious and as we found out later, tasted delicious. With help from Daniel and Will, I made some gravy for Delilah and carved that beautiful, curvaceous turkey child. With a table set full of food brought by friends (Salad by Ellen, popovers by Ale and Corey, mashed potatoes and veggies by Sean) we all sat down and smiled.
The food was delicious and the conversation was engaging (for mostly Daniel and I who regaled each other with stories of years passed). I’ll never forget Friendsgiving ’12 and I hope none of my guests forget either. I am honored to have served Delilah and that she was delicious. Her little brother or sister turkey next year will have a lot to live/roast up to but I have faith in myself to cook a bomb ass dank ass turkey.
peace ‘n luv
ps happy thanksgiving!