I was starting to feel the doldrums creeping in, but then I remembered that I have large dead bird thawing in my refrigerator.

Fred was massive. This one is smaller, about half of Fred's size. I assume that means it was younger than Fred, but this is another of those unknowable turkey mysteries.

Like previous very large, formerly alive birds, this one too remains currently unnamed while it's mostly frozen.

If we named it now, we'd probably have to go with "Frosty," which would seriously strain credulity when it's roasting in a 400° oven later.

This turkey had parents. And their parents had parents, and if you keep going back on and on, you'll eventually arrive at dinosaurs.

You know, I bet dinosaurs were delicious.

The logistics of preparing and eating a dinosaur would be very difficult, if you really think about it.

That's +1 for evolution.

This turkey is so svelte that it fits into a drawer in the refrigerator, which is nice because it's one more layer of protection against the—albeit remote—possibility of escape.

All this turkey is getting for Christmas is eaten.

I've decided to start a "Captain's Log" for turkey preparation so that I can better document the results.

Fred was brined for 48 hours in a 1c salt per gallon brine, and was a bit too salty. The as-yet-unnamed bird will get ~40 hours in a ⅔c salt per gallon brine. Thinking I will also lace it with a few capfuls of liquid smoke and ¼c of quality maple syrup.

I logistically can't cook enough birds in a year to nail this down without recording some gobble metrics for later comparison.

First, remove the industrial packaging. It will squirm with glee once it's been freed, so keep a firm grip on it. Also watch for falling innards. There's a neck and some organs in there somewhere.

Next, rinse and dry. It'll try hard to fling cold bird juice everywhere, so do this part gently. Pat it dry as best you can with paper towels, then set it on a cutting board breast side down. What's next is gruesome, so steel yourself.

Grab the kitchen shears. The heavy-duty ones. Start your cut at the right side of the neck, then snip through each rib along the spine until you're out the the other end. Turn the bird 180° and repeat the process on the other side of the spine until the bird is spineless. Avert your eyes if you're squeamish, because it's definitely a murder scene in there, except you know, those probably have a lot more blood.

Put the spine with the rest of the innards. It'll make amazing gravy.

Flip the bird onto it's "back", if we can still call it that, and press down hard until you hear an audible crack. If you've done it right, then your turkey comically looks like it's been paused right in the middle of the potty dance. If course, it doesn't actually have to go potty, but try not to laugh for too long because it does still leak.

Now that the bird is spatchcocked, it goes into the brine for at least 24 hours. This one's getting ~40.

Notes on the Christmas bird from the new Turkey Captain's Log:

<tbd>, Christmas 2023:
Bird weight: 13lbs
Brine Ingredients:
- ⅔ cup Morton kosher salt per gallon
- several sprigs of rosemary, thyme, and sage
- Orange peels
- 2 capfuls of liquid smoke
- ¼ cup maple syrup
Brine time: 40 hours
Preparation: Spatchcocked

I might go lighter on the maple syrup, depending on the amount of brine I end up using. This will be prepared in an empty 1-gallon jug so that I can fully mix the salt.

If the salt crystals aren't fully disolved, then the parts of the bird that are touching the bottom of the container will get extremely salty, so mixing is key. Once the salt water is ready, everything goes into a large stock pot to hang out in the fridge for the desired brining time.

It's a lot of work, but it's extremely worth it.

No name as yet. I've decided to leave that decision up to Nine. If she thinks it should be named, then it'll be named.