Every year about this time when I go shopping for THE BIRD I can’t help but recall previous years of THE BIRD. I immensely enjoy watching the family gather around the table and stuff their faces with turkey and stuffing and casseroles galore. This is the result of all the fruits of my labor spent in preparation the week before. Wanting to have a truly fabulous meal, I’ve created a self-inflicted stress trip and made it into a major ordeal. So I complained to my therapist about this traumatic time I so detest. She made the solution sound so simple…one I should have guessed. She suggested, “Just order the entire meal ahead of time from your local grocery store deli. You can get the turkey pre-cooked and the sides already done. All you have to do is have your husband make the pick-up run. Voila! Easy as a piece of pumpkin pie!” And so it was until it wasn’t!
The turkey came without legs or wings! Can you imagine? Made for a pretty silly looking thing. The uncooked potatoes were whole and unpeeled. There was a paltry portion of green bean casserole and a scant serving of yams…scarcely enough to feed the whole fam. I kept thinking maybe I’d missed something in the fine print when I ordered the feast…perhaps it said: OPTION #3 will feed a party of 12. Startup Kit contains all the ingredients you’ll need to cook your own delicious T-Day repast. (Lesson learned here: never order ahead if you want plenty of food and it’s promised to be ready real fast).
I have fond memories of Turkey Lurkey. A friend of mine found this bird alongside the road, threw it into his car, took it home and made it his own. He built it a pen, a large pen at that but the turkey found out how to open the latch. It would waddle its way up to the back patio door and peck for admittance refusing to be ignored. She would lurk there for hours (hence the name) but even turkeys have to poop and this patio pooper had no shame.
Her redeeming graces were in the eggs she would lay and my friend gave me one to try. It was huge! And made the absolute worst tasting omelet I ever fried. (I’d like to think it was the egg’s fault). I was lucky to get it open as the shell was hard as a rock. It took a hammer to put a crack in it. Man what a crock!
One Thanksgiving week my friend made a decision to cook poor Turkey Lurkey! He said she’d been such a hassle and a mess he’d just as soon feed her to his dinner guests. OMG, I was horrified to learn of her fate. But I sure wasn’t ready to bring her to my house, caged up in a coop. So after the holiday I crossed my fingers behind my back, and I inquired as to what my friend fed his group. With a sly grin he shook his head and said, “Oh you silly fool…you honestly bought that story I told of murdering my poor gobbler? Well we had a Honey Baked Ham, some of Lurkey’s best ever eggs deviled and a homemade apple cobbler!”
And speaking of green bean casserole, weren’t we? Well, that brings Aunt Ivadell to mind. She was one of 7 siblings in my father-in-law’s clan. And one of the more feisty and quickest to demand. T-Day would be held at Mama & Papa Stroup’s and each family member would make a dish to share to eat. Aunt Ivadell immediately opted to bring the green bean casserole.
So when the day arrived all the folks with their covered dishes came through the door. Ivadell forged straight ahead with her paper bag she’d just come from the store. One by one she took things from the bag: 2 cans of green beans, a container of French fried onion rings and 2 cans of cream of mushroom soup. “There,” she said to Mama Stroup and pranced off to the living room to visit with the group! When my mother-in-law told me this story I was so proud of her for not blowing her stack. But then again, Aunt Ivadell was never invited back!!!
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