Despite tradition, I’m giving turkey the old heave-ho
Turkey is dry.
There, I said it.
Yes, I’m aware this is as much a user problem as it is a fault of the turkey. Still.
I’m not a chef, I don’t have a smoker, and I’ve seen those firefighter videos warning what can happen when deep frying goes wrong.
A few weeks back when discussing holiday plans with my daughters I learned they shared the same concern. A suggestion was made: Break with tradition, lose the bird.
“Have chicken,” one suggested. “Why not beef?” the other added. I pondered. What, no waking before dawn to prep an unwieldy hunk of poultry, a job that often entailed swearing and the use of a blow dryer? No wrangling for oven space for the side dishes? No arguing over who should take the leftovers home? No guilt when those leftovers end up in the trash because, “Hey, it’s a long weekend, let’s get pizza.”
Still, tradition is like a drug. The longer you embrace it, the harder it is stop. Change may be a no-brainer for the younger generation but I had to give it some thought.
Plus, turkey is pretty popular, here in America anyway. Per capita consumption in 2020 was 16 pounds per person, double what it was in 1970, according to the National Turkey Federation. Were we missing something?
Availability works against it, my kids agreed.
“Turkey is not that special, Mom. You can have it any other day if you want,” the oldest said.
True.
“I’ve never liked it,” the youngest chimed. “It’s a lot of work for little payoff.”
OK.
Maybe it was just MY turkey they didn’t like. I baste, I season. I always try to buy good quality.
And last year, I pounded out a turkey breast, stuffed it with a traditional onion and sage mixture and then rolled it.
I thought it was a masterpiece. But others around the table yawned and began passing the potatoes.
This time, when I called the local butcher to order both a beef tenderloin and a deboned turkey breast, which I planned to turn into another roulade, even he said, “You know, everyone is just going to eat the tenderloin.”
There are plenty of polls out there dissing many traditional Thanksgiving dishes. Turkey’s up there. The only reason it doesn’t top the lists is because canned cranberry sauce exists. Nevertheless, I ruminated.
A week later I called the butcher and canceled the deboned turkey breast.
Why fight it? There’s already way too much fighting these days.
Plus, Thanksgiving is not about turkeys. There’s no evidence the first feasters dined on turkey. And there’s no reason you need a crusty golden centerpiece to celebrate thankfulness.
As we near the end of what, for me, has been a very difficult year, following what, for the world, was an excruciating year, I not only don’t have the strength to fight for something that doesn’t really matter, I don’t have the will. Sorry, turkey.
Besides, last Thanksgiving we were pondering much more intense ethical dilemmas — whether it was safe to even gather at all.
Thanksgiving is about coming together, sharing, celebrating and being grateful for the opportunity. In that regard, my table is full before I even open the fridge.
I announced the revised menu to both my daughters during a recent visit.
“Good, the oldest said. “And while you’re at it — no Brussels sprouts either.”
“Yeah,” the youngest chimed. “Not boiled, not roasted, not even in the house.”
“What?” I gasped.
I began to see why my mother stuck with the traditional dry-turkey-marshmallowed-sweet-potatoes-canned-cranberry-sauce plan, even though her children balked at various parts of the meal.
If you give a kid the turkey, how long before you’re ordering pizza?