Going out on a limb with the turkey at Christmas – the brown / white divide

CHRISTMAS exposes aspects of personality which may remain otherwise hidden. What, for example, does it say about Hermione that she tears the wrapping off her presents with all the destructive gusto of a hungry lioness ripping the hide from a plump antelope? Her devotion to keeping the house tidy is normally the stuff of family legend, imposing a standard of neatness which the rest of us all too often fail to measure up to. But then give her nice new scarf swaddled in Santa decorated packaging and she knocks as much craic out of removing the outer layer as she does from the gift within. When her prezzies have all been opened, the area around the Christmas tree resembles an Alpine demolished by an avalanche of tinsel and shredded paper - a joyous, multi-coloured disaster area.

Or what about Eldrick, who devours more chocolate over the Twelve Days than he does during the remainder of the twelve months? And then there’s young Persephone with her ability to retreat to bed for most of the holiday, achieving sleep patterns which would not be remarkable in a hibernating polar bear. Our daughter, in her penguin patterned onesie, is at the other end of the Christmas activity spectrum from a father who cannot face the festive dinner without first undertaking a five kilometre hike.

Presumably every clan has members who cannot wait so much as a moment to get at the parcels under the tree, as well as the others who insist on holding back until everyone - down to the last cousin - is assembled. There are those for whom it is mandatory to serve sprouts with the main course on December 25, just as there are those who slip the sprouts into the nearest waste paper bin. There are those for whom the big day is not complete without a vigorous game of poker or charades, just as there are those who would far prefer to turn down the lights for a communal viewing of ‘Mrs Brown’s Boys’ with everyone slumped in front of the TV. And then there is the great white meat / brown meat divide… It was the turn of Hermione’s sister Aurelia to cook the turkey this time, an event warmly anticipated by all. A couple of weeks before the great gathering, however, her husband Ernest let slip that Aurelia had been consulting cook books. She had been particularly taken, he reported, with advice offered by well-known chef and restaurateur Niven McGrew. The chubby faced Ulsterman recommends marinating the bird’s breast overnight in butter milk before roasting. The problem was that he also advocates lopping off the wings and legs, reasoning that they are only likely to be over-cooked. What if Aurelia were to adopt such an approach?

The news that Niven was on the case did not go down altogether well in some quarters. Specifically, it did not go down well with me and with Her Majesty, the mother-in-law. We both like our turkey meat brown, while the McGrew method – the McGrew mutilation, more like – promises nothing but white meat for the most important meal of the year. The prospect stretched before us like an endless vista of arid Sahara.

‘Eating the breast is like chewing cotton wool,’ I observed. ‘Christmas would not be the same without a helping of turkey leg,’ said HM.

‘I know there are all those funny tendon things in the leg but you can’t beat it for taste.’

‘ The white meat always reminds me of plasticine.’ There was no question of telling Aurelia what to do in her own kitchen. And most people are delighted to have the white meat. Small wonder that HM and I travelled in a subdued mood of nervous trepidation, agreed that we could always lather on the gravy to hid our misgivings.

We arrived to find that all the stops had been pulled out. The house was warm and welcoming. The decorations were spectacular. Still, those of us on the brown side of the divide remained on tenterhooks as Ernest heaved the roasting pan from the oven. With a showman’s flourish, he whipped off the tin foil to reveal the turkey. We looked to see and thanked heaven that it retained its full complements of limbs – two wings, two legs.

Happy Christmas, so. Thanks, Aurelia.