I Was Flipped The Bird

I can't think of Thanksgiving without talking turkey. No one knows for sure if the Pilgrims and Indians actually ate turkey at the first Thanksgiving. More than likely they ate fish but, some fish hating, Thanksgiving rule maker, decided turkey would be better. So we now traditionally serve a Thanksgiving turkey instead of a Thanksgiving trout.

Since modern times, the star of the Thanksgiving meal has always been the turkey. I've always wanted to carry in my platter of perfectly roasted, golden brown turkey, to a table full of anxiously awaiting turkey lovers. The applause, and oohs and ahhs, would pale in comparison to the pride I would feel presenting this turkey to my adoring family.

Well... there's another dream down the Thanksgiving toilet. My family is not a fan of turkey. I have roasted it, cooked it in a bag, basted it until it almost drowned and pressed my face against the oven door watching for the turkey timer to pop up. They just don't like turkey.

One year, I was determined to serve a Thanksgiving turkey the family would enjoy. I decided to try a smoked turkey. The family wanted to know when the turkey was through smoking, was I going to stuff the turkey with the cigarette butts? I do not find turkey humor funny.

I was about to throw in the turkey towel, when I decided to give it one last try. I had heard about fried turkeys and thought how could anything fried in a vat of hot oil be bad. I'm thinking this may be the answer to my Thanksgiving turkey trauma. 

Richard does all the outdoor cooking, so I could make him the fried turkey chef. That could kill two birds... uh... turkeys, with one stone. I wouldn't have to cook it, and then everyone would love it because it would be a bonding family experience.

We bought the turkey, the turkey fryer, the propane, the injector marinade and the industrial size barrel of peanut oil. Before we had even cooked the turkey, it had cost us about the same as airplane tickets to fly us all out to Plymouth Rock to eat Thanksgiving trout.

Richard set up the fryer and went to work on preparing the turkey for it's hot oil treatment. We all gathered around to watch as the turkey was carefully lowered into the smoking hot oil. The sizzling sounds and smells of fried turkey fat, had us all eagerly waiting for the crispy skinned bird to be ready.

Since this was our first fried turkey, we weren't sure of what to do and how to do it. As we sat around in our lawn chairs, the conversation turned to how long the turkey was supposed to stay in the hot oil.

Richard read the turkey fryer box, and I went and got on the internet and came back with the precise instructions from none other than Paula Deen. Finally we had some answers. Now... what time did we put the turkey in? Uh... probably more than five minutes but, less than thirty minutes. We were in turkey trouble.

Richard kept frying until we were sure the turkey was done through and through. We now not only had our turkey but, it was a Cajun style blackened turkey. Who knew Richard had the culinary skills of a New Orleans chef?

Our chef took the turkey out of the fryer basket and placed it on a cookie sheet to cool. Still sitting in our garage, we admired our black bird. Proudly Richard picked up the pan to show off his triumphant turkey. As he picked up the cookie sheet, the greasy turkey started sliding and flipped right off the pan.

Richard tried to catch the steaming hot bird with the pan, but the bird was flying faster than he could go. It was one of those times when everything starts going in slow motion. Oooooh.... Nooooo... I saw what was happening, and I started reaching for the flippin' bird. It hits the table, bounces from the table to the chair, and then from the chair, it must have bounced across the garage floor three or four times.

Richard grabs the turkey from the garage floor and throws the still hot bird back onto the pan. In shock, we just looked at one another. Well... I think the five second rule applies here. Let's taste it and see if it's ok.

We sat in the garage and ate the best Thanksgiving turkey we had ever eaten. No plates, no utensils, just picking it right off the bird. Finally we had found the star of our Thanksgiving feast.

We've been frying our turkeys for several years now but, none of the turkeys have tasted as good as that first fried turkey. Maybe we should sprinkle a little dirt our turkey this year in remembrance of our best Thanksgiving turkey day.