Our Red Turkey

Up early for a call, Thanksgiving morning.  An early call, of course.  I cut up a big pile of sweet potatoes threw them in the pot to boil, before sitting down for this hour-long commitment.   One big spud had already gone bad.  I only put these down here in the drawer two days back.  People once had to make these things last the whole winter.

Bird’s next.  Have to get this big creature in the oven before noon.  Curve-ball this year.  “The imported turkeys are all sold out.”  “Huh?  I’ve bought Thanksgiving turkeys from you for five years in a row.  What happened this year?”  “Yes.  A lot of people bought them.”  This is difficult logic to argue with.  Indeed, I’m not sure why I’m arguing.  “OK.  Set aside the biggest domestic turkey you have and I’ll come by to pick it up.”

I fretted about it for a moment.  Is a Red turkey, a bad turkey?  Is what they stuff these poor birds with “better” in the U.S.?  Is it safer?  Does it produce turkey that tastes more like turkey, or at least the turkey of my mind?  The butterball’s I’ve bought in the past are presumably full of genetically modified feed that may be absent in my Red turkey.  Then again, this will not be some free-range bird.  The Red turkey industry is probably using vile pesticides and sawdust that is just as bad for the bird, and anyone who’d eat it. 

Five hours later, my bird comes out of the oven.  He’s golden brown outside.  The critical first two cuts in reveals that he’s cooked well throughout and there are no raw bits inside.  Quickly, very quickly with thirty guests, there is nothing left but the carcass.

I’ve cooked a few turkeys in my day, and I’m here to tell you people:  Our Red turkey tasted powerful-delicious this year.