The Thanksgiving Saga: When it’s late afternoon and the white, uncooked pallor of the turkey mocks you
As featured in MEDIUM, "The Memoirist" The Thanksgiving Saga When it’s late afternoon and the white, uncooked pallor of the turkey mocks you Photo by Karolina Grabowska from Pexels Why am I so panicked about hosting Thanksgiving at my house? Because one year I didn’t put the bird in the oven long enough. It was after 6:00 p.m., and the bird still wasn’t finished. Then one of our guests inhaled a giblet, and we had to make a run to the ER. Having one food as the focal point of one meal is too stressful. All eyes are on the bird, and my once-per-annum, self-induced culinary panic circles around whether my turkey will be judged succulent, dry, well-glazed, or burnt. Thus my proclamation: I promise never to cook turkey again. Share my angst. (Read on.) I brined the turkey the night before. When I took it out of the refrigerator on Thanksgiving morning, the salty/sweet brine had run over to one side of the plastic bag, covering only half the turkey. I squi...