La Domestique

I had the urge to go all domestique today, so I hied myself into the kitchen and began to destroy any semblance of order in there.

I began with a turkey. Now, those of you who are loyal readers know of my frequent run-ins with turkeys. I don't know what it is, but the nasty creatures have it in for me. I don't care for them alive, and I don't care for them dead, but I'm a mom and I must feed the Spaethlings.

Today's went pretty well, except for my continuing puzzlement about which end is which. And it does matter, I gather from the directions. If you're to get the mystery packets out, you have to dig in the right end. Actually, you need to dig in both ends. There's stuff hidden throughout the turkey.

There's something new in the birds, I hate to tell you. I think it's the body part of the neck, but I'm not sure. I tugged and pulled and wrenched, and the thing would not leave the turkey, so I guess it's supposed to be in there. I hope so. It stayed in there.

All went well, though, until I took the turkey out of the oven. And I saw this.

Does this look right to you? What happened? Why did my turkey collapse? It tasted okay, so I just wrote this up to another terrible chemical accident at the turkey farm and went on to Project Two: Wild Rice Soup.

I've never made it before but I found a recipe that was repeated frequently on the web by sites I trust.

Well. No.

It made too much to fit in the recommended pot. It didn't thicken (the roux was added at the end, which in my culinary experience means it'll only do its rouxy thing on reheating). But maybe the weirdest part is the directions forgot the rice. In wild rice soup.

Ah well. Add a glass of wine or two and your favorite music, make sure you're sitting with good company, and, as my daughter says, "It's all good."

That's the best part of a domestique day!