Turkey Lurkey

(WARNING: Sensitive readers may find this post a bit graphic. I know the experience was graphic for me!)
My alarm went off at 6:45 Thanksgiving morning. I rolled out of bed (yes, remember I'm 36 weeks pregnant, there is nothing but rolling and waddling these days!) and headed downstairs. It was still dark, but at least the kitchen smelled like coffee (I am thankful for programmable coffee makers). I poured a cup, only begrudging the “decaf” a little as I took my first warm sip. Then I did what I’d been fearful to do since I entered the kitchen. I opened the fridge for our first stare down.
There he was double trash-bagged and taking up half the fridge. Turkey Lurkey.

About two weeks ago Jayson called me excitedly from an agency meeting. He told me he could get us a “fresh turkey” from this agent who owned a farm. It would be “processed” on Tuesday and delivered “fresh” on Wednesday. “Isn’t that great?” He asked, “It would never have been frozen ever!” My stomach turned as I thought of the turkey-to-be-dinner wandering out in the yard gobbling around blissfully unaware that he would become our dinner. I started calling him “Turkey Lurkey” in my mind. “It will be so great!” Jayson went on, “He’s two years old and about 25 pounds. Her kids hand feed the turkeys!” He said that like it was a good thing. Poor Turkey Lurkey.
But the deal was done. The Wednesday before Thanksgiving, Jayson would pick up our *gulp* dinner.

Twenty five pounds turned out to be thirty three pounds (that’s 5 pounds short of EVY!!!). Jayson hefted him into the fridge Wednesday night, but not before he pulled out his neck and showed it to me. “Look at the size of that!” He exclaimed in wonder. I thought I would be sick. “Come on, Min, Martha would be proud of this turkey.” He jested. I tried to avoid looking at it.

“Just don’t think about it. Just don’t think about it.” I told myself as I attempted to heft the massive bird from the fridge to the counter.
“I am thankful for food to eat…I am thankful for Turkey Lurkey… I am thankful…I am thankful…”
I have often thought how much I would’ve liked to live in “Laura Ingals Wilder days”. When I took the bags off of Turkey Lurkey I changed my mind. I felt like a turkey murderer. You could see the holes where feathers once were. There were still a couple of feathers on his wing.
I assessed the situation. I tried to look at it like a doctor. I took out my cookbook and the stuffing and molasses butter I had prepared for Turkey Lurkey the night before and turned on the oven.
Step one: Remove giblets from cavity of Turkey. Rinse turkey and pat dry with paper towels.
“Do they know how big this thing is? I can hardly lift it to the counter! There’s that ugly neck again. *sigh* How sad I have to give him a bath before the turkey torture…”
Step two: slide hand under the skin to separate it from the meat. Get it as loose as you can.
“I can’t believe I’m going to do this to this poor turkey. I seriously may have to become a vegetarian. This isn’t just my hand…I’m in up to my elbow.”
Step three: spread butter between skin and meat. Make sure to get the drumsticks and thighs. Coat evenly.
“try not to think about it…I am thankful for you Turkey Lurkey… I’m such a turkey murderer. This has to be like some kind of turkey torture!”
Step four: Stuff neck cavity of bird loosely with stuffing. Turn turkey over and loosely fill cavity with stuffing.
“‘Turn turkey over’, like it’s such an easy thing! This is so disgusting! I can’t believe I’m doing this. What if it doesn’t even turn out and poor Turkey Lurkey gave his life for nothing! I’m sorry Turkey Lurkey!”
Step five: tie drumsticks together with cotton kitchen twine. They will overlap.
“Of course Martha would have cotton kitchen twine handy. She probably spun it herself. I don’t have any…how am I going to tie these massive legs? This is SO like torture.—Kite string! I can use some kite string from Evy’s kite. But there is no way these legs are touching much less over lapping. This is ONE BIG BIRD!”
Step six: place bird in roasting pan and tuck wings under body. You may have to break the wings.
“*gulp* great, separate the skin, tie the legs, break the wings. This IS torture.”

I couldn’t break the wings no matter how I tried. I then had to skewer shut the neck cavity and skewer the wings so they stayed back and under Turkey Lurkey.
I held back my tears and put him in the oven. Then he cooked for 8 hours and I basted him every 30 minutes.
Turkey Lurkey was a huge success to all our guests. He did taste really good. And I am thankful for Turkey Lurkey and his sacrifice for our meal (and actually not just our meal but our meal and leftovers, 3 other family’s meals and leftovers, plus three batches of turkey soup, and two big turkey pot pies).
This Thanksgiving was quite an experience. And in the end, I’m glad I had it. I did feel a bit like a turkey torturer, but at least I know I'll never become a cereal killer, it would be too gross for me!
Nonetheless, I am Thankful for Turkey Lurkey.