it's more like a Thanksgiving dinner with a dysfuntional family.
There I'm standing in a hot kitchen. My hair hasn't been done and my makeup is from yesterday, and I'm holding a turkey I'm not overly proud of.
Despite my dreams of succulent meat and perfectly seasoned, crackling skin, I am holding a disappointment. This isn't how I wanted my turkey to be. It's not what I worked so hard for.
In comes MawMaw. I look to her for support. I quickly pour my sad turkey tale onto her shoulders.
She replies, "Yeah, that's how it is, I had a turkey like that".
I don't feel any better. I almost feel like her failed turkey comment is a veiled accusation-- like I was the reason for her disappointing turkey.
I'm not sad to see her back as she returns to the dining room.
My relief is short-lived. PooPoo enters. Oh Poo Poo. For years he's said what he means and what he says is mean, but he gets away with it because he is old. He takes one look at the turkey and says, "You know, if you disciplined those kids more, you'd have more time to have a terrific turkey. There's no reason they can't help you more-- activities, Pah! I never had activities when I was young, I worked and I worked hard. Your problem is you do too much for those kids and look where it got you."
 |
| Everybody Loves Raymond |
My entire failed turkey can be blamed on the way I chose to raise my kids.
Such a ray of sunshine. So glad he's here. He may die in this decade so we all tolerate him.
People are buzzing past me like little garden bees, landing on pies and jiggley jello salads, some proclaiming that their cranberry sauce is the best anyone could ever hope for.
Side dishes people. Anyone can pull off a great side dish, but a whole, main course turkey?
Uncle Hee Hee comes into the kitchen for a drink. I love Uncle Hee Hee and tend to gravitate towards him at these family gatherings.
I show him my turkey. I know he will understand why I am wanting to crawl into my bed and live there for the rest of my time on Earth.
"Pull yourself up, girlie. I know people who aren't even lucky enough to have a turkey! My son has never had a turkey and he's nearly forty. He's gonna look back one day and be sorry for the decisions he made eating at fast-food places all of these years and here you are complaining because your turkey ain't perfect." He smiles and leaves with his lemonade.
Hmmm. Not quite the pep-talk I was expecting.
Feeling more than a little emotionally depleted now, I brace myself for Auntie Looloo.
It's not enough. No one can really brace for Auntie L.
"Oh, yeah. I had turkeys like that and you know what? I got through them. AND I worked full time and never had the luxury of trying to perfect my turkey-- noSir-ee, I worked hard and I accepted what came my way".
 |
| Little Miss Sunshine photo |
Strange. All of this empathy, support, turkey condolences aren't making me feel any better.
I'm hoping Aunt Sweet will arrive shortly because all I want is for her to come in and put her arm around me and say, "I know Sweetie, I know." That's all. I don't want her to compare my turkey to hers, or tell me how I could have done better-- or worse, how I should never expect better.
I just want her to say, "I understand. It stinks sometimes and you are not wrong for feeling that way".
In my self-pitying state I am acutely aware that I carry a little of each of these people in me. I can't seem to listen to someone without one-upping or trying to fix them. At least I hope there's less of Aunt Looloo than the others in me!
Truth is, I'm actually a good cook and I have one of the fattest, juiciest turkeys around, it's just that the way it's come out of the oven isn't at all how I envisioned it. It's not the turkey I dreamed of having.
Hopefully, I can get it back on track, but for now, I'll try to focus on the gravy:
This experience could just mold me into some future distraught daughter/daughter-in-law or granddaughter's Auntie Sweet...
when she's standing alone in her futuristic kitchen wondering, "This is it?" I'll give her a hug and say, "I know sweetie".
((Jeri)) hugs to you
ReplyDeleteI know, sweetie. I know. :D
No, really, I do. The turkey I made this past Thanksgiving was the worst one I've ever done. It was dry and stringy and a big disappointment. Always before I made them in one of those roasting bags, and they turned out wonderfully. This year I forgot to buy the roasting bag and gave it a try without it. Big mistake!! HA HA HA!
Nobody cared that much. They didn't get all filled up on turkey, so they had more room for pumpkin pie instead. ;)
How was the pumpkin pie, you ask?
It was fine. I bought it already made from the bakery at the grocery store. :)
It would be nice to have some chocolates or some cherries once in a while though, wouldn't it.
Aww, I really like this Jeri. (((hugs)))
ReplyDeleteYours is a very creative turkey. It may not be what you expected, but it brims with clever seasonings and the stuffing is to die for. I don't really care for turkey, actually. It's all about the stuffing.
ReplyDeleteAunt Ethel comes in the kitchen and says, "Why what in the world makes you think anything is wrong with that turkey? You did a great job! Who wants a turkey that looks just like everybody else's? Yours is unique...wondefully unique! Do you need any help with the parsley? Here, let me do that and you sit down and get off your feet, for heaven's sake! This entire meal is a masterpiece...you must have been slaving all day! Can I get you something to drink? now let's see, are you dressing this bird up with anything besides the parsley? Like carrots or cranberries or apples...? Well, hmmm...do you still have a bunch or two of grapes from the fruit plate? Maybe a couple of lemons? Here, you cut the lemons..."
ReplyDeleteYour turkey was great and the gravy was amazing! What wonderful jello salad you concocted!!
ReplyDeleteFull of juicy plump fruit and plenty of fresh whipped cream!
I would come and dine at your house any time.
Well done
Hugs
SueAnn
I mis read at first and thought you said you poured the turkey over her, rather than you poured the turkey tale over her....that's ok then!! I had a foul (!) turkey experience two Christmases ago when the Aga lost heat and the turkey, which had been in there for 8 hours purportedly cooking slowly had, in fact, not been cooking at all and we had to abort the turkey as everyone was starving!! Plenty of veg, potatoes and wine though!
ReplyDeleteDid I ever tell you about the time my entire family was here and I decided to buy Thanksgiving dinner from the grocery store? The guests were seated AT THE TABLE when Keith and my dad walked in with the meal. Their faces should have told me something was wrong, but I was starving. That's when Keith asked, "Are you aware that the dinner arrives frozen and you are expected to cook it?"
ReplyDeleteLove you, Jeri. Sincerely.
Loved this! I hope I'm the kind that will say "I know sweetie".
ReplyDeleteAww. I know sweetie.
ReplyDeleteLife isn't like we dream it to be sometimes. But it's good.
*hugs*
aw Jeri.
ReplyDeleteMy mil sounds a bit like your PooPoo, only she's not quite so in your face about it...her comments are a little more veiled... Does that make sense?
She just jumps in and starts telling the kids what they should or should not be doing, and sort of undermines my parental authority altogether. Does that even make sense?
ugh!
I know sweetie, I know......
(well, now it's just kind of cliche' isn't it?)
This entire post reminded me of the turkey in Christmas Vacation where he cuts into it and it steams out air. Nasty stuff.
ReplyDeleteBut I'm sure it wasn't THAT bad. And I doubt it had anything to do with your parenting technique. It was probably just the turkey's fault.
Oh man... do I ever know...
ReplyDeleteReading the comments posted above has me just giggling, very very funny and witty stories.
Let me share my Thanksgiving-Before-Last Tale with you.
Since I live in France and Thanksgiving isn't a recognised holiday in these parts, nor is the consumption of a whole roasted turkey one does outside of the two weeks bracketing Christmas day, finding one is near impossible.
One of my English friends, who has a young son who was born in New York, insists upon 'doing' Thanksgiving each year. Never mind the son was only upon US soil for possibly 3 months after his birth, it is part of his H e r i t a g e, so, a Thanksgiving we shall have, for all of us. Being 'Authentic', I get called upon to help, which is fine, it actually IS part of MY heritage.
So, sometime mid-October, she finds this farmer with turkeys and goes along to see if he would consider selling one pre-Noël. "Bah Ouais, Madame, point one out." So she picks out the biggest most magnificent bird in the courtyard. Splendid fellow (I saw the 'before' pictures.) She promises to be back to pick it up the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, (as it was at my house that year, I needed time to stuff it, etc.)
So, I clear out space in my minuscule under-counter fridge for a 8-10kg turkey. She arrives carrying this thing in a huge black plastic rubbish bag. It weighted 23kg, no way could it fit in the fridge, so had to live in the shower stall in an ice chest in brine until The Day.
The farmer's wife had used boiling water to remove the feathers, so the skin was partly cooked. Worrisome. I smeared that bad boy with a concoction of butter, garlic, Parmesan cheese and prosciutto whizzed together and slathered under the skin and inside. No way could I stuff it, it would have taken a week to roast. It cleared the top and bottom of my oven by one measly inch and the sides by two inches.
Even though everyone raved, I was very disappointed. The meat wasn't that luscious, juicy tenderness I get normally. Still, the flavour was good, and the side dishes made up for it.
Moral: NEXT time, order a turkey in August for November from the local Butchers.
Kind regards, Kitty
Really it is very useful post and I like to read these type of posts and thanks for sharing such type of posts please keep it sharing.
ReplyDelete