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My mouth watered any time someone mentioned having a left-over
turkey sandwich. You know the kind, chopped thick off the bird with cranberry
sauce and maybe some gravy mixed in.
We went to my grandmother’s for Thanksgiving. It was great. We didn’t have to expend any effort except to eat. The thing is, we didn’t have left-overs. I simply could not get the idea of warm turkey sandwich for lunch out of my head.
I became mesmerized by it. The next time I was in the grocery store, I got the biggest bird
I could find and brought it home, much to my boyfriend’s dismay.
“I’m staying out of it, “ he said. [He actually was a good
consultant and a big help].
I am notorious for “over-analysis paralysis.” I am not a cook and I’ve always done my
best to avoid cooking meat. Now that I had a huge raw bird in my fridge, I sort
of had to figure out what to do with it....or get off the pot....or something
like that.
How hard can it be, I thought.
I was beginning to regret my impulsive decision. The
directions I found online just scared me even more, “reach in and pull the
giblets out...make sure you sanitize your preparation area of turkey germs
afterward with bleach.” Not sure this is what I signed up for.
But there he sat. So the next day I dove in. I cleaned the
bird, slathered him in olive oil and popped him in the oven. Every 15 minutes
or so, I’d peek in to see how he was progressing. He was browning nicely.
I sliced between the thigh and the breast, per the
instructions, to see if the juices ran clear. They did indeed. I even sliced a
bit off the top to taste. My, it was tasty.
Well, after a few more adventures and mistakes, we did indeed enjoy some
yummy turkey. If I had planned it all out, I am certain I would have become so
intimidated by everything involved that I wouldn’t have even started my
delicious project.
c. 2013
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