I was making a Thanksgiving dinner. A very good Thanksgiving dinner if I say so myself. I've cooked a turkey before but I wanted to do this differently- no prepackaged spices for me this time. I was nervous about what I was going to do with it. There was some leftover sage and thyme from the rutabaga stew so I figured I would bring it with me to Virginia so it wouldn't go to waste. Yes, I flew with organic sage and thyme in my suitcase. And it was thrilling. I covered the bird in vegetable oil to crisp up the skin, surrounded it with yellow onions and covered it with thyme and sage. I cooked it at 350 degrees for 2.5 hours in an oven bag. I wasn't nervous about it being undercooked, I was just nervous about it tasting good. And I think I reached my goal. At least everyone said so through filled mouths. The bird wasn't dry and it wasn't pink. It was perfect. And my nose cleared up.
November 21, 2009
Not a High Point of Either's Day
At around 3pm today I had my hand up a turkey's ass while my sister blew my nose. It was a very intimate moment for all involved. You have to understand- my nose was running and I was having a hard time figuring out if I got all the gibly bits out of the turkey before I shoved it in the oven. While all the cavity searching was going on, my nose decided to turn into a faucet. I couldn't blow my nose, re: bird's ass view, and there is no soap by the kitchen sink at my mother's boyfriend's house. In order to get rid of the avalanche of snot I would have to put down the bird, go to a bathroom and wash the salmonella off my hands to blow my nose and wash my hands again. So, when I hollered for help with the gibly bits my sister came to my rescue and kindly held a tissue to my nose. My brother came up to help with one last blow and the crisis was averted.