|Blogs > GwydionFrost > Hippy and the Bitch speak!|
Oh, what a holiday!
Oh, what a holiday!
Yeah, the end of the Turkey madness is drawing to a close (all that is to do now is get rid of those damnable leftovers).
Hippy here, again... (Where's the Bitch?)
Well, here's hoping that y'alls T-Day went better than ours. Sure, most folks would complain about the hassle of large quantities of in-laws, relatives, travelling, etc. The Bitch and I had none of that, preparing a feast merely for her and I and our just-turned-1 daughter.
Tell you what, I'm gonna share our story. You can feel free to add to it with your own if you desire. That's the hedonist in me, you know, having that compunction to let you indulge yourself.
Let's begin. Hippy works the night shift for hours, just for the record. This means I arrived home at about 8am that cool T-Day morning.
First goal: Pass the keys onto Bitch, as she had to go to work until about 12 Noon, her restaurant insisting on making her work a half day.
No problem. I was the one that was handling the bird anyway. Kiss kiss, hug hug, and she's away.
Hippy breaks out the cornbread base he's gonna use for the stuffing. Most important thing about the bird, don't ya know, is what flavor you can add to it with the proper stuffing. Mixing in dried mango, papaya (all in all, a dried tropical fruit blend), dried blueberries, fresh cranberries, diced sweetpotato, diced Granny Smith apple, diced onion, chopped celery, sweet basil, and a few more exotic items of a fruity nature (what, you thought I'd give it ALL away?). Blending it well, ready to shove into the massive 22lb bird that Bitch got at a very good price.
I know, I know. What the hell was Bitch thinking, buying a 22lb bird for 2 adults?
Anywho. I pull the bird out of the 'fridge, ready to pull the gibblets and crap out of the chest cavity, when I wander over to grab my roasting pan.
Look in another spot.
Not there, either.
Tear apart the kitchen. Nowhere to be found.
Call the Bitch, ask her to grab a disposable one from the grocery store on her way home.
Now the bird will have to wait until NOON to get started. This means we were looking at a 6-7pm eating time, versus a 2-3pm eating time.
Oh well, could be worse, right?
She gets home, on time, for a pleasant change of pace. Brought the pan with her. Sweet. Let's get cracking. Stuffing the bird and shoving it into the oven, Hippy then, exhausted, decides to go to bed...since he has to work that night.
At 4:30-5pm, the Bitch gets Hippy up from a sound sleep. Remember when I said that it could have been worse?
The universe accommodated us.
The oven, she announced, when she had checked on the bird, was stone cold.
We aren't sure what time the heating element failed, but we are sure that the bird has been sitting for a while. Half asleep, Hippy decides to try something. Yes, the BROIL coil still works. Fire it up, make sure the bird is tightly covered, and go back to bed.
An hour, hour and a half later...she gets him up AGAIN. The broiler element is not functioning either. He fixes it, but still...the bird isn't even CLOSE to done. The half-baked approach isn't working.
I call work. I beg and plead with Nick to give me the GM's home phone number...
I call him, and tell him of the situation. I BEG. I PLEAD.
I want to use the ovens in the restaurant attached to my hotel.
No problem, he assures me. Use the convection oven, it'll roast the bird that much faster!
SO...pack the bird, wife, child, all the other side dishes that SHOULD have joined the bird in the oven for the last hour, and head to the place I would be returning to in a few mere hours.
Cook cook cook. Like a madman. The only 3 people in the entire restaurant, and a veritable feast in the final stages.
Forgot to bring a stick of fucking butter.
The convection oven roasts the bird, alright. The skin gets crispy, the meat begins to pull away from the leg bones.
Looking good. Remove it, slice into the bountiful breasts. The meat is juicy, slick.
Serve out the food. Eat.
It is 10pm, when I pack everything back into the car to return it home and come back again to work all night.
It is the next morning, when I am rendering the meat from the bird, that we realize that IT WASN'T FINISHED COOKING.
So, over the course of the next two days, my crock pot and largest stock pot become the home of this monstrous 22lb bird...as I boil it like no tomorrow, to make it safe to eat...and have turkey soup for the next 3 months...
5/10/2006 1:49 pm
love join your group 2mtn.|