My first turkey, and most likely my last

 Oh happy day, I had my new cast iron pans and a bit of Christmas shopping done.  I was certain the day would be better than yesterday.  I even got my work-out in so that I could eat anything I so desired.  I planned out the day and paced it all around the turkey.  I set an alarm to give the turkey 60 minutes outside of the fridge (as suggested by all-recipes on line), before I dressed it up for the impending oven of doom.

We had other sides ready to be made like mashed potatoes, green beans, cornbread and gravy, but those were to come later.  

I felt grateful from the moment I got up.  It was just one of those feelings of loving life and being thankful for all that I had.  It felt magical!  Like I'm not sure how I got so lucky as to live here in Scotland with my two boys, but wow, 'it doesn't get any better than this' kind of feeling.  Totally loving life!

It was such a great feeling, exactly what you need on Thanksgiving.  I was ready to 'Win the Day!"  (Anybody from Perrigo remember that Hendrickson euphemism?)

It was actually quite a calm and easy day, such an easier start to the cooking day vs. yesterday.  2.30pm was my start time.  The turkey had been out for its required hour and I was ready.  I have been baking a full chicken every fortnight since we have arrived in Glasgow, so I knew my way around a bird....at least I had seemed to think I did.  

It was a nice looking 10 lb bird and I quickly found the little bag of giblets near the neck, so far so good!  But once I tried to open the bird, I couldn't get inside of it.  Hmmmm?  The skin was not opened and I couldn't cut it, so I yelled for back up.  Once Jackson got into the kitchen, he couldn't figure it out either.  

This doesn't seem right?!?!  At least not to me, the newly minted Kitty Crocker.

Well okay, I know when I'm out of my range, so I called for more powerful backup.

"Jackson, get Oma on the phone stat!"

Oma was having a lovely breakfast with my sister RuthAnn, as they had celebrated on the correct day and were now done with all of that stress.  They were both relaxed and joyously eating breakfast.

But that was soon to change!

Oma takes charge and immediately says to just get some scissors and cut it open, with a hint of foreboding, she tells me later.  I had Oma and RA on video chat, so Jackson started cutting open the bird.  Cool, I've got the recipe all ready to go.  I'll stuff the bird, do the pre-mixed herb butter and move on.  The curmudgeon of an oven already pre-heated.    

It took a little bit, but we got inside the bird.  But as I went to stuff it, I realized it already had stuff in there.  Stuff that shouldn't be there.  Oh Jaysus, Mary and Joseph.  What in god's name is in there?

Please note, the following content is not suitable for young children or anyone with a queasy stomach...

STOP

READING

NOW 

IF

YOU

FIND

THAT

BLOOD

MAKES

YOU 

WOOZY

BECAUSE 

FRIENDS

THIS 

IS 

WORSE 

THAN

BLOOD

!

IMHO

YUKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!

For the next 15 minutes, Jackson (god bless his soul), reached in and pulled out intestines, bladders, a heart (I think), a liver, tubes going nowhere, something super hard.  Truly gross stuff.  All while Oma and RA had a play by play of the action.  Because all I could do was hold the camera and keep from barfing!  

Every time we (meaning Jackson) thought we had it all, we (meaning Jackson) would find MORE.  When will this end?  Can I just throw this one away and buy another one, is all that is going through my head.  

Oma and RuthAnn cannot even believe what is going on.  They even brought Rich in to see the carnage.  At this point, they've stopped eating.  As I continue to exclaim, "what is this", "is this normal", "why is this happening to me?"  "What have I done to upset the gods?"

I really questioned at this point in time, if we were going to have a Turkey for our Thanksgiving meal.  Surely, there was enough burnt pumpkin pie to sustain us for the day, me thinks.

But onward we went until it was cleaned out!  

Oma still remarking for the 135th time, that she cannot believe this.  

Yeah - me either Oma!  I didn't sign up for this.  I was NOT born in a barn, however many times my dad asked me that growing up!  For if I had been, maybe this wouldn't be so gruesome?!?

BUT, when life serves you undressed turkeys, it is time to make gravy!  

Right?

Anyway, nothing to do now, but get on with it and make Thanksgiving dinner!  

    

one cup of herb butter can't hurt anything, but maybe I really should've used the brush

homemade cornbread complete in cast iron skillet, that I may or may not have, dropped directly onto the floor when retrieving it from the oven with a poorly made (read too thin) hot pad

my small version of green bean casserole sans mushrooms that Levi won't eat

carrots, celery and sweet potatoes

Yet the best side of all and I forgot to take a picture.  Jackson made the tastiest smashed potatoes I have ever had!  Seriously, soooooo good!

And the centerpiece, the coup d'etat, while it wasn't pretty, it was actually quite good and moist.  Shocking to none other than me.  Score one for me, and 0 for the oven!  💪

Kitty Crocker in all her glory

The mashed potatoes can be barely seen on the bottom right in my new black cast iron casserole pan

And because we had done our time, did more than we ever bargained for, the pumpkin pie was actually FANTASTIC!  And gone in less than 24 hours.  The ginger snaps didn't last the night and the culprit for that wasn't even the boys!!!!  

finally a good title for this

So there it is friends!  My first ever Thanksgiving meal, from tears to triumph.  It is one I will NEVER forget.  And I'm pretty sure that Oma and RA won't either.  But you know what is funny, and completely bewildering to me, Jackson just asked me why I titled this blog my 'first and last turkey,' and I explained (I mean, do I really need to explain?) it was so gross, didn't that even phase you I ask.  "Naw," he replies.  Jackson really thought nothing of it.  So thank you Uncle Art, I believe you have set him up well for life working on that lobster boat of yours!  

Kitty 'city-girl' Crocker

PS.  Does this packaging say anything about what was to come?  Yeah, I didn't think so either.