You are here
Year of the drunken green turkey
Keep it simple, I told her. Assume nothing. Tell me everything. I wanted a turkey and stuffing recipe, something brilliant but low on the difficulty scale. Turkey is not my best friend. It’s like the bigger, older, grumpier brother of chicken. It’s dry, with no sense of humour whatsoever. It also never uses deodorant, so it smells. But like the crazy uncle from the country, people still expect it to show up for family occasions. “Place bread cubes evenly in tray and cover with foil,” she wrote, cheerily. Eh? Cubed bread? The woman expects me to cube bread? Like some culinary mathematician? “You have to for the stuffing,’’ she emailed back stubbornly, along with how-to pictures.
I was suspicious of the stuffing recipe which my foodie friend, Hal, insisted got her raves every year. People ate it by the bowlfuls. No minced meat, no chopped giblets, no packing inside of the turkey, no baking in the oven—a stove-top pot stuffing that sounded like seasoned stale bread. Have faith, I reassured my internal pessimist. Hal has a cooking blog and a big reputation. She must know what she is doing. So because I trust Hal implicitly, I test-drove the stuffing on Christmas Eve, the day before my audition. If it went bad, I could always revert to the recipe on the Crix pack.
User comments posted on this website are the sole views and opinions of the comment writer and are not representative of Guardian Media Limited or its staff. Guardian Media Limited accepts no liability and will not be held accountable for user comments.
Please help us keep out site clean from inappropriate comments by using the flag option.
Guardian Media Limited reserves the right to remove, to edit or to censor any comments. Any content which is considered unsuitable, unlawful or offensive, includes personal details, advertises or promotes products, services or websites or repeats previous comments will be removed.