Look at it. All pink and bumpy. Head decapitated and legs tied together like a common criminal.Turkey, I'm sorry you were slaughtered because now I have to look at your naked form and -- let's be honest, it ain't pretty. But, alas, I'm visiting the "in laws" in Pennsylvania and I've vowed to get up-close and personal with this 16-pound bird.
My boyfriend's mother patiently gives me a step-by-step tutorial on cooking the turkey. But I don't go near it. Instead, I intently type her instructions, using my blackberry notepad.
Remove the inner-workings of the turkey, which usually come in a plastic bag for your convenience ... Wash turkey with warm water, then make sure you wash your hands thoroughly with soap and water ...Salt and pepper the turkey ... Sprinkle with poultry seasoning ...Don't listen to the people that say to cook the bird at 325 degrees -- cause it won't be cooked through. Instead, cook it at 350 degrees ... Baste every half hour ... After the turkey browns, cover it loosely with foil to prevent skin from burning.
Sounds somewhat simple.
Part of me is dying to prepare turkey the way Gordon Ramsay does -- gently feeling your way between the skin of the breast and the meat itself, creating enough space to fill with truffled herb butter. Yum! But I've got a ways to go before I start feeling up my birds.
Anyhoo, after my boyfriend's mother popped the turkey in the oven, I helped her peel a bag of potatoes. (I handled the task like a pro, btw.)
I often wonder if she secretly worries that my ineptitude in the kitchen will leave her son either malnutritioned or in the emergency room. But if she is fearful of me killing him, she hasn't shown it - which is nice :)
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