When we got to Fern’s, the first order of business was to get the bird cooking. The brining bag made draining the liquid (while retaining the solids) over the sink a simple procedure. Opening the bag, wow… that brine is deliciously aromatic. But will it translate to tasting delicious? We pulled the bird out of the bag and generously rubbed the turkey.
Now you’re cooking!
The roaster came up to temperature in a shockingly short amount of time. The lid barely cleared the breast, but it seated properly and set the timer for three hours and Fern and her mom settled in to reheating with the microwave.
Worried about the power of the roaster, I foolishly didn’t check the temp until the full three hours was up. Bad move, as the bird registered 170 everywhere I stabbed. Uh oh. And while I said we had to wait a half hour for the bird to rest, a revolt started. No one wanted to wait. So… with all of about five minutes resting… I carved.
I needn’t have worried, though.
Ready, set, EAT!
Dear reader, that was one of the juiciest, most flavorful turkeys I have ever had. What’s more, everything was amazing. Fern’s dressing had a fantastic depth of flavor and remained deliciously moist. Her aunt’s greens (mustard greens with turnips) were sumptuous. And my dishes performed admirably – the mashed potatoes tantalizingly garlicky and buttery, the alterations I made to the standard green bean casserole paid off stupendously. The Macaroni and cheese – which uses un-cooked macaroni – was a little too crunchy around the edges. The middle had good flavor, but I should have worked harder to get all the macaroni better integrated and, unlike the other dishes, suffered from the travel and reheating; I’d make it again but I certainly wouldn’t travel with it.
Oh, the humanity!
Before you would scarcely believe, we had laid waste to a substantial amount of the feast. My tummy was painfully full but more than that, I was so ecstatic that everything worked out so well. The circumstances provided some challenges and forced some adjustments, but I can say that I’m no longer a Thanksgiving pedestrian. I earned my wings, or, rather, my drumsticks
