I do not enjoy cooking.
The prospect of preparing an entire holiday meal is enough to make me want to hide in a closet, shut the door and turn off the lights forever. Thankfully, the holiday meal preparation in our household is left to my mom, who is much more efficient and talented than I will ever be in the kitchen.
The “event” took place in 2003 (insert scary drum roll here). It was our first Thanksgiving in Winnipeg after moving from Calgary, and mom went all out with the meal planning…
… except for the fact that she purchased a deformed turkey.
Apparently, grocery stores sell a thing called a “utility grade turkey.” Ours came from Sobeys, although I’m sure you can purchase this atrocity from anywhere. When choosing a utility grade turkey, the consumer accepts the fact that not all of the limbs are intact. An arm or a leg may be missing, and the turkey as a whole lacks the “A list” aura that surrounds all the expensive birds further down the aisle.
Mom bought a utility turkey. She said she’s done it before, and only a “little bit was missing.”
Well, a little more than a few “bits” were missing from our holiday feast. As mom pulled the turkey out of the bag, we noticed right away that both legs were missing. Upon closer inspection, so were both arms. As we tried to suppress giggles of horror, mom and I realized at the same time that we were staring at nothing more than a torso.
Did we ever buy a utility turkey again? Hell no. Did I eat turkey that Thanksgiving? Absolutely not. It made a great story over the dinner table, but at the time I was horrified. Who would sell something like that? And where did the limbs go?
Maybe this incident is the reason why I don’t like turkey. Or, it could be the reason why I despise cooking. Either way, the mutant turkey left enough of a lasting impression that not a Thanksgiving goes by where I don’t think about the bird that just wasn’t good enough.
Happy Thanksgiving everyone!