You won’t believe what I did. So silly. I’ll tell you, but first a little back story:
I am hosting Thanksgiving at my house this year. We generally stay home for this holiday because I LOVE it. I love cooking for it and, more than that, I love Black Friday in Bend. Waking up at 5:00 to wrangle any willing daughter(s) to elbow their way through the aisles of Target to buy a set of Legos for $4 instead of $6 is what dreams are made of. I love Black Friday. My girls love the promise of free breakfast so everyone’s happy. Anyway, I digress.
I’m hosting Thanksgiving this year and it won’t be huge, probably about 20 people. So I planned to cook a big turkey and a medium-ish ham. I bought the turkey on Monday and tossed it in my fridge, remembering Thanksgivings past chiseling ice from the poor bird’s carcass because I forgot how stinkin long those things take to calmly defrost. I always feel a little sad for all the indignities a turkey suffers in order to make my day fantastic, so I’d like to eliminate “sitting in a bowl of water in Bo’s sink while she storms through the kitchen cursing the pilgrims” from the list. However, I clearly have a solid and immovable mental block with the timing of turkey-thawing because Monday was way too soon to throw that sucker in the fridge. And now it’s thawed.
If you’ve spent any time on the many web sites dealing with turkey turmoil, you know that a thawed turkey is only definitely absolutely and without-any-possibility of food poisoning good for 1-2 days. Now, I know this is probably a stringent time frame and it could very well last til next Christmas in my fridge, but given the volume of guests, the amount that I love them, and the fact that the average visit to urgent care is $500, I’d like to stay firmly inside the guideline here.
All that to say: guess what I’m doing tomorrow, the Saturday before Thanksgiving. Yes. I will be cooking a turkey. And slicing and freezing the leftovers. And sending them home with my guests so that they can enjoy dinner at my house AND have turkey sandwiches for days after. Sigh.
That’s my pilgrim story.