The original plan was to cancel next Thursday for it is a fuss to cook dinner for two and we don’t need the calories. I’ve been informed The Lovely Neighbor has invited us over for a traditional Thanksgiving with all the trimmings, so there it is. Once again I dodged ‘the turkey issue’.
Turkeys and I are strangers. I enjoy them immensely (especially the drumsticks) yet I have never cooked one. Nor have I ever carved any. Growing up, Mother cooked the bird and Father carved – always with an electric knife, the use of which makes me think of him to this day. Throughout the years I’ve never been called upon to do either task. At home Someone cooks and carves the capons and their cousins, for he likes doing both.* For going next door this thursday I was asked to bring the wine, not the turkey.
It leaves me wondering if turkey cooking and carving involves some secret skill known only the erudite. I am disbarred from entering into the mysteries of the acolytes of turkey cooks. Not knowing how to carve a bird is more irksome to me than how to cook one, for carving is one of things ‘real men should know how to do’, like changing a tire or tying a bow tie.**
Last week while rummaging through the freezer for leftover Hallowe’en treats I found two turkeys. I questioned Someone on their purchase. He explained matter of hand they were bargains and so he got them. I plan to ‘stake my claim’ on one of them and prepare it all by myself.
I learned to sew on my own; I will do likewise with carving. I will study the cookbooks and do this myself, a true autodidact.
If anyone would like to join me for dinner, please do so. It will includes wine and trimmings and back up pepto-bismal.
* I suspect there is a more sinister element: he likes being in control and he worries if I do the turkey it will be a bungle.
** I can do both, thank you.