Let’s Talk Turkey

Today’s Saturday Short is “Let’s Talk Turkey,” part of the Seasonally Appropriate Series. It’s about how to communicate with these majestic…wait, I’m getting a note from my producer that this is actually about how to cook turkeys. Well, then, why didn’t they call it that?

Did you know that turkeys exist every day of the year, not just at Thanksgiving and Christmas? They are! Now turkeys can be “table dressed” so they won’t embarrass you in front of your guests! They’re also quick frozen so you can break your toe when you drop it on your foot. Spend hours every day cooking a full-size turkey in your oven 365 days of the year!

Also, did you know that there are different sizes of turkeys? There are big ones for big families, medium-sized ones for medium sized families, and a wee little Cornish game hen for Baby Bear.

In the Marie Gifford Kitchen, women in blue dresses carefully study this mysterious creatures. They condense their findings in a special service bulletin on how to buy and serve these misunderstood birds in their new forms. See, when you bought a turkey in Ye Olden Days, you had to buy the whole bird with its feet and head attached. Wearing a kicky paper hat, I notice. Now you can buy a plastic-wrapped turkey that’s not only been decapitated, but also lacks that pesky neck and feet. And it’s frozen!

At the USDA Experiment Station at Beltsville, Maryland, science has taken place. They’ve developed a new breed of turkey called “young” because it’s killed before it’s fully grown. These “young” turkeys are 5-10 pounds, having been fed on grain and buttermilk. Um, do turkeys drink milk? I thought they got their protein from bugs. What kind of mad science are they doing up there in Maryland?

Compare the cost between the behatted bird and the pre-prepared one. The whole bird wears 15.75 pounds before the various non-standard bits are chopped off. Now the carcass is 13 lbs, which means we have 2.75 pounds of cat food. Kitties love necks!
The wrapped turkey is 13 lbs as soon as you buy it because it only has meat for humans. Kitty will have to make do with dry kibble, I guess.

The Special Service Bulletin gives instructions on how to defrost the turkey. The best way is to stick it in the fridge three days ahead of time. They say it only takes 24 hours, but we all know they’re being optimistic. Or, if you forgot to take the bird out until Thursday morning, you can stick it in the sink and run cool water over it for 3-4 hours. This method is not recommended because it wastes way too much water. We need to conserve this vital resource here in The Future.

Once the turkey is defrosted, reach inside and take out the packets of internal organs. Put them in a bowl and give them to the cat. Kitties love hearts!

Or, if you’ve decided to be evil, you can make giblet dressing. Put the cat food in a pot of boiling salty water and simmer. Then chop the giblets fine and save the broth. Add the giblets to a mixture of bread cubes, butter, celery, onion, and various herbs and spices before drenching it in broth and mixing thoroughly with two spoons.

Now it’s time to stuff-n-truss, which sounds like a kinky nightclub. Salt up the inside of the bird, insert stuffing, skewer the skin together, and tie it up. Remember, this is something you can do EVERY DAY OF THE YEAR!

Once you’ve indulged your bondage tendencies on poultry, put the bird in the roaster and brush it (the bird) with melted fat. Now is the time to employ algebra to figure out how long to cook it. Add the weight of the stuffing to the weight of the bird, look at the chart on the Special Service Bulletin, and select the correct time and temperature. Put the turkey in the oven for the recommended time at the proper temperature and wait. Now you have a cooked turkey! Give it to Dad to carve while your 2.5 children bounce in their seats.

Now it’s time for the big reveal: Can this dad carve the turkey better than the one in “Dining Together“? Yes he can! See what using a properly sharpened knife can do?

In spring you can make Picnic Turkey. Cube the cooked turkey as awkwardly as possible. Boil the broth with rice, celery and onions. Remember, all vegetables are Satanic so you have to boil the Hell out of them. Once the rice is halfway cooked, add peppers, pimientos, salt, Worcestershire sauce, and the turkey cubes. Put the mixture in a casserole dish and edge with buttered breadcrumbs. Bake for an hour at 350. You’ll know it’s done when your square glass casserole dish turns into a round pottery one.

Wedding Turkey is perfect for June. It comes in the form of a Turkey Almond Salad. Cube a cold turkey, add red grapes, celery, toasted almond slivers, and dressing. On closer inspection the “dressing” appears to be plain mayonnaise. Mix, place on fresh lettuce leaves, and sprinkle with more slivered almonds. Actually, that looks pretty good. I bet if you replaced the nuts with chopped, fresh celery it would be just as good and safe for those with nut allergies. [scribbles furiously]

In July and August…think carefully. Do you really want to heat up the house cooking a whole turkey for several hours? Sure, Marie Gifford claims that you can do it in “the cool of the day” but that would mean you have to start cooking at 2 in the morning and no reasonable human should be up at that hour for anything less than a life or death emergency. But if you choose to do so you could serve the turkey on the lanai with corncobs. Then put the remains of the turkey in the fridge so your husband can sneak downstairs for a midnight snack while wearing his loudest bathrobe.

October Turkey comes in the form of Turkey Pinwheels with Mushroom Sauce. Begin by rolling out biscuit dough. Mix the chopped turkey with onions, green peppers, salt, pepper, and cream. Spread the mixture over the dough. Roll it up like a jelly roll, pondering the whole time whether or not you need a favor. Slice and bake. Serve with mushroom sauce, which appears to be nothing more than Campbell’s Cream of Mushroom Soup.

See how turkey can be a year-round bird? Let’s all eat turkey all the time. There’s no need for any other form of protein in our diets! And remember to order your turkey several weeks before Thanksgiving or all you’ll get is the scrawny bird from “Dining Together.” This will disgrace you in the eyes of your friends and family. Now let’s all bow our heads and offer up prayers to the Great Lord Turkey! Gooble gobble, gooble gobble, one of us! One of us!

Dining Together

Today’s Saturday Short is “Dining Together.” It’s all about Thanksgiving and how to dine together to celebrate this most North American of holidays. (Hi, Canada! Pretend it’s still October!)

Two little boys are polishing silver to a bland piano etude while wearing the World’s Ugliest Reindeer Sweaters. The narrator tells us that “helping to make ready a celebration is part of the fun.” And using awkward grammar is even more fun.

The littlest boy finishes his candlestick and goes into the dining room to stare at a pile of fruit. His brother finishes shortly after and also goes into the dining room. But he doesn’t want to stare at fruit, he wants Littlest to come back in the kitchen. Mom’s opening the oven to baste the turkey! No, sorry, my mistake, that’s a chicken. Wait, that’s the turkey? Only the scrawniest fowl for this family!

Anyway, the boys get a lot of entertainment out of watching Mom baste the bird. No football game on today, I guess.

Now it’s time to set the table. An integral part of any properly-set Thanksgiving table are the long candles. They must be at least three feet long to adequately express the thanks you are giving. The older boy gets the good crystal out of the cabinet and holds it carefully on a tray while Mom puts them on the table. Then Dad comes in with Littlest to admire the place settings.

Um, Dad, your tie.

The narrator shows us a close-up of the oh-so-fascinating table, making sure we notice the fancy lace tablecloth. “We remember,” he says, “the Pilgrims had only rough tables on which to serve the first Thanksgiving feast, yet it was shared with friendly Indians.” {bites tongue in half trying not to ruin the day by mentioning the 500 years of genocide}

Fortunately Mom sends all the men out of the room so they can make themselves presentable.

Soon afterwards a woman and girl arrive at the front door. Older Boy opens it, revealing that his suit is at least three sizes too big. Clearly it was bought for him to grow into. Dad comes in to shake hands and escort his guests to the dining room so they, too, can admire the fancy lace tablecloth and long candles. He’s hidden the mess he’s made of his tie by putting on a suit jacket and buttoning it up to his chin. Good compromise, Dad. The narrator yammers on about manners as everyone takes their seats.

They bow their heads for the Educational Short Patented Six-Second Grace before ostentatiously unfolding their napkins and placing them in their laps. The narrator says they are happy that their manners are so good they know how to use napkins. And also how to use their spoons to eat their soup quietly. Their manners aren’t so good that Guest Lady has remembered to take off her hat and act like she’s staying a while, but that’s why this is an educational short. We all have things to learn.

Mom brings in the chickenturkey. The narrator tells us that Mother knows how to cook the turkey and Father knows how to carve it: Badly, using the dullest side of a dull knife. Might as well tear it apart with your hands for all the good he’s doing. The kids sit quietly, watching dad mess up the turkey as much as he did tying his tie earlier in the day.

Now everyone can eat their meal. The narrator tells us that the Indians didn’t eat turkey with a fork, but it’s easy to learn how. For one thing, don’t stuff your face. It’s also important to know how to butter and eat your bread. Which, I notice, is just a triangle of gummy white Wonderbread. Truly this family knows how to serve a fancy meal.

Back to the Deathmarch to Manners. Don’t talk with your mouth full. Chew with your lips closed and know when to take a drink. Whatever you do, don’t drink from the good crystal even though every one of the goblets is full of water. Those are company glasses and little children must not use them.

Littlest pushes away his plate with three bites left on it. Mom gives him a Death Glare until he pulls it back towards him to finish those three bites. Meanwhile Older Boy uses his knife the “right way,” which apparently means with arms akimbo so you elbow the person on each side of you.

Mom calls Older Boy into the kitchen to help her with dessert. Or so she says. We know it’s so she can fix his shirt collar which has slipped under his jacket. The men in this family all have a severe fashion disability. I’m going to get them a valet for Christmas so they can learn to dress themselves.

Meanwhile Dad chats with Guest Lady and Little Girl. The narrator tells Little Girl to wait until the adults have finished speaking before she talks, but she’s having none of it. I like her. Mom comes back in to collect the dinner plates. She checks Littlest but he’s managed not to drop anything on his good suit. Good job, Littlest.

Back in the kitchen, Mom lights the dessert on fire. I don’t know what it’s supposed to be but it looks like a pile of something extremely unappetizing. But it’s decorated with holly leaves so it’s festive! Plus, we can re-use those leaves for Christmas next month. Thrifty!

The narrator raves about the joys of manners while Littlest and Little Girl break the wishbone. Could you wish for more, narrator asks?

Um. Yeah. I wish Dad had been able to carve the bird without ripping it into shreds. I think I’ll get him a knife sharpener for Christmas as well.