BT's good friend E's mother had bought too mamy turkeys for christmas.
Apparently, that's a 'thing'.
So we were pretty chuffed when E showed up with said turkey in hand, wrapped in plastic.
I'm a pretty good cook, having spent most of my early days in Sydney exclusively hanging out with a bunch of chefs, so I volunteered to do the business.
Interestingly there are actually instructions included on how to prep the bird, which is good, because I'm not such an expert at bird-prepping.
Pull out the neck, check. Pull out the plastic bag of giblets inside the cavity, check. Phew, thank God I read the instructions. Nothing makes one lose their appetite more than cooked giblets in melted plastic.
I salted the bird probably more than enough, but I wanted to make sure the skin came out nice and crispy. Because yuck, who wants soggy goosebumpy bird skin?
Needless to say Brutus was at his usual position: underfoot. I know he knows I like him the best so I threw him a few little bits of turkey meat (on the condition that he didn't tell the other dogs). Oh who the hell am I kidding? Am I turning into one of those people that thinks because they speak English to a dog, that the dog actually understands English?
And that bird? It came out nice and moist. No complaints from the peanut gallery.
This was one awesome bird.
#california #inlandempire #travel #solotravel #chicksman #neverenoughsalt #turkey #wrappedinplastic #crispyskin #dogsdontunderstandenglish
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