A MOVABLE FEAST

Last Thanksgiving, I was wrist-deep in potato peels when my husband told me that it smelled like something was burning. I’d undertaken the challenge of cooking a full holiday meal at our

rustic family cottage, where proper cooking tools (sharp knives, aluminum foil) were scarce. I’d brought what I could from home—right down to the vegetable peeler—but there had been no predicting this: After 40 years, our faithful Eaton Viking stove had finally flamed out in violent protest. And the something burning was the turkey.

I pulled the bird out of the oven and threw it onto the counter as a dark, dense cloud filled the kitchen. The smoke detector howled, and my eyes welled from the fumes—or was it the frustration? Grocery stores and restaurants were closed for the holiday. The sides and desserts were ready to go, but without the main event, our cottage Thanksgiving was on its way to becoming a bona fide flop.

Then, a small miracle: Despite the fumes, I noticed the turkey remained unscathed; the butter basting had acted like a protective barrier. I transplanted the entire thing to the barbecue outside and switched on the heat to low. I wasn’t sure if my plan was going to work, but I poured myself a glass of Malbec and crossed my fingers. Two hours later, we sat down to a serviceable bird. It was a little dry but worth every word of the grace we said before the meal.

This Thanksgiving, we’re heading up to the cottage again. Though we’ve since replaced our oven for a newer, less accident-prone model, I’ve bookmarked the Test Kitchen’s turkey recipe on page 100. I plan on making good use of that barbecue once more, only this time, with a Tested-till-perfect technique, applewood chips to add smoky flavour and a slew of sweet and savoury sides. The plan is to toast happy accidents and new traditions, in that order.