It's close enough to the event that I am now daydreaming about the logistics of acquiring a frozen turkey that's probably dead, ruthlessly removing its spine, giving it its last bath ever, subjecting it to what it surely regards as the fires of hell and then gleefully consuming it with friends and loved ones.
I guess I am just assuming that he's going to use a raw turkey spine to make epic gravy, but how well do I know the guy, really?
He could have a shed of full of turkey spines, hanging from the ceiling on thumbtacked twine, a pair of googley eyes affixed to each of them. He could have given them names and spends every Thursday evening from 8 to 10pm having wacky conversations with them.
But nah. He's probably just making gravy.
^^ It's pretty funny if you've been here for a while though. #sadbuttrue
There's an eagle outside screaming. Is it yelling at me for totally bullying an as yet unacquired frozen bird?
Oof. I sure hope they never become allied with turkeys because if you really think about it, eagles are basically flying razor blades of doom. #PNWlife
The hardest part of brining is finding a suitable container that can hold both the bird and enough liquid to keep it completely submerged and chilled for 48 hours.
I have a giant stock pot that just barely fits in the fridge. I've used a cooler in the past. Even a bucket with a foodsafe plastic liner can work. If the outside temp stays below 40Β°, you can even park it on a porch if it's securely closed.
It's 100% worth the effort.
Speaking of supplies, this thing is also a must-have. It'll go off when your bird is cooked to perfection.
We use ours year-round.
As for the bird, I'll likely pick mine up in the next few days. It'll start thawing on Monday to be ready for brine Thursday to be cooked Saturday.
If you're cooking yours for Thanksgiving, you want that thaw to start this coming Saturday, brine to start Tuesday for cooking Thursday. Thaw time might be less depending on bird size.
Brine time is 48 hours. It can be done in less, but this has worked out best in my experience.
I asked #ChatGPT to draw me an image depicting a trio of turkey gods, and it's both terrifying and would potentially make for a righteous tattoo.
I can't decide if the turkey gods would love me or hate me.
On the one hand, I definitely play a part in their murder and consumption. On the other, I do make a big deal about it and do their demise a fair bit of justice. Their kind are not dying in vain with me.
However, I also make the murder and consumption of turkey much more popular in the process so I guess it's pretty complicated.
There is no turkey erotica in this thread.
It would probably be obligatory if this was #RIPTwitter, but thankfully it's not.
I believe tomorrow is the day that I finally meet this year's honoree.
It's Ten's turn to name it this year. She assures me that she has to meet it first. It's like that, you know. It really takes a meeting to understand the personality and give it a suitable name.
Also, I will not be specifying the grocer from which I will be acquiring this year's bird. You know, for security purposes.
You probably think it's unlikely, but I think that if I share the market from which I will be selecting this year's bird, there's a much greater chance that it will hatch up a zany escape plan and there won't be any turkeys left when I arrive.
So I'm declaring that detail to be classified in the interests of fictional security.
This year's turkey has been acquired.
I stood there staring at the selection for what seemed like an inordinate amount of time. Which one of these birds deserved a good home? That one there looks like an asshole. This other one looks stubborn. Yet others I'm sure would have been passable, but I knew the moment I saw it which one was mine.
It was sitting in a corner of the freezer bay, untouched by the others and looking quite rejected.
I'm sure I saw it smile when I added it to the cart.
I drove home like I was leaving the hospital with a newborn, my typical quick turns and prompt acceleration reduced to the measured calm of a man transporting delicate cargo. I could tell the bird was nervous. It shifted almost imperceptibly with each pothole and variation in the imperfect road surface, riding into what it surely must consider the great unknown. I played chill indie to ease the transition, carried it gingerly inside, and gently placed it in a place of honor in the freezer.
I guess it could be pretty lonely in there, but I don't see the problem. There's all kinds of frozen goods to keep it company.
I even made sure to keep the gyoza wrappers nearby so that it could get as much sage advice as it needs.
I mean seriously, how often does a frozen turkey get to hang out with gyoza wrappers?
I'm not going to tell the as yet unnamed formerly happy giant bird that there are dozens of people who are keenly interested in what's going to happen to it.
We don't want to make it unnecessarily nervous, but mostly I think it would have a dangerous motive to escape if it knew how popular it has become.