Saturday, March 28, 2009

Why I'm not a doctor

Today I decided to roast a turkey. I'm not a big meat-eater. Actually, if it weren't for bacon I'd probably be a vegetarian.

This wasn't the first time I've roasted a turkey. Over the years I've learned that there are surprise packages inside the turkey. Don't ask me why--and please, don't tell me, either. But there are. There's a mysterious paper or plastic wrapped bundle that I suspect contains something people call gizzards--and they're just as dreadful as their name implies. And there's also an icky bit that I think is a neck. It's huge and ugly and disgusting. I throw them all out.

I'll confess: I roasted a lot of turkeys before I remembered to take these things out. It became a family joke that I'd forget about them.

But not today. The little package is right there, and I throw it away pronto. Then, to get that long ooky thing--well, that requires something that usually only a veterinarian should have to do. Sticking my hand up inside the bird.

It's gross. Really, it is. But that's what you've got to do if you're going to roast a turkey, so I grimace and reach inside.

Or try to. I can't get my hand in there. I push and shove and twist, and no go. Finally I give up and decide to roast the turkey with that nasty piece inside of it.

So one last rinse with water--and what do I see? I've been digging in the wrong end of the turkey!

Color me embarrassed. I retrieve the offending bit, add it to the trash, and pop the bird in the oven.

Later, I take it out. I'm irked that this turkey, which comes from a well-known, top-of-the-line turkey company, doesn't have an "I'm done!" pop-up thing on it.

But worse--it just kind of looks odd. There aren't really legs, and it's an odd dark color. I carve into it, and it's dark meat, and not much at all. It's bones!

I'm starting to get steamed now, and, to tell the truth, sort of freaked. What is this thing?

Well, guess what. I have it upside down in the pan. I'm not carving the breast! I'm carving its, well, you know. Its underpinnings, if you get my drift.

I know that some chefs say this is the best way, and honestly, it turned out wonderfully.

And this explains why I'd make a terrible doctor. I can't tell the neck from the (ahem) bottom, and the breast from the back. Someone would come to me with a sore throat and I'd say....


Debby Mayne said...

You are TOO funny, Janet! This sounds like a Lucille Ball scene. Want to come have Thanksgiving dinner with us this year? I'll teach you the anatomy of a turkey, then we'll go shopping on Friday.

Barbara said...

Too cute! This is going to sound terrible, but I have hubby handle any raw meat that vaguely resembles what it was when it was alive. I can do chicken breasts, I can't do whole chickens with dimpled skin and protruding bones... Kinda weird for someone who loves to cook I'm sure, but that's the way it is and I make no apologies. Except to hubby who has to handle it for me...