I blame Pinterest. Or Pioneer Woman. Southern Living magazine maybe. Either way, it was something else (not my normal good judgement) that at the last minute, caused me to abandon my plan as I stood in the frozen section of the grocery store last night. The intent for this year’s Isolation Thanksgiving II was to perfect last year’s turkey. After all, last year’s plan worked (by worked, I mean that my turkey did not shrivel up a la Clark Griswold in National Lampoons Christmas Vacation).
You might remember that last year I bravely (and heroically) roasted my first turkey. It was truly the first time I had ever roasted a bird of any variety. I made the sensible choice last year to go with a turkey breast. I don’t do whole birds. Because I don’t do innards. I cannot bring myself to stick my hand inside a bird and pull out anything. Really.
So this is why I still don’t know what happened. In the frozen aisle of the grocery story last night. I picked up the turkey breast, ready to put it in the cart and move on to the much more fun baking aisle. But I glanced to the left. And saw a slightly bigger turkey. It was on sale. It looked superior to the leg-less turkey breast I had in my cart. It looked like a real turkey, like the one on my Williams Sonoma catalog cover. I checked and yes, under the words “Lil’ Butterball” the label told me what I suspected. This was a whole turkey. With innards.
I put it in the cart.
As Darrin helped me unload the groceries, he pulled it out. “You got a whole turkey? Me: “Yes. I don’t know what I was thinking. Maybe I can return it.” But returning it would mean defeat. And I’m no quitter. And so here we are. It’s me vs. the bird. This year, for Thanksgiving I am going to roast myself a real, adult, Norman Rockwell whole turkey. Yep. A 10 lb turkey for exactly 4 people. I’ll post results over the weekend, good or otherwise. Wish me luck. I’m goin’ in.
Our Thankful Tree. We have a ton of reasons to give thanks.