When one is going to attempt her first roast turkey, it’s probably not the best idea to do it for 20 members of her husband’s family. But what are you gonna do?
My husband’s family is a lovely assortment of people, and I do adore them all (mostly) (you know who you are) (just kidding) (maybe). But, and I’ve said this right to the faces of a big group of them, they cannot plan anything out EVER. This drives me absolutely straight to Crazyville. I am a planner. I like schedules, routines, little squares filled in on my calendar. I do not like surprises, changes, or loosey goosey maybe kinda sorta we’ll figure it out activity possibilities. My husband, dear soul that he is, is champion of the loosey goosey, but as his wife, I can whip him into shape when necessary. But the lot of them? Hoo boy, that’s like trying to knock down a tree with spitballs.
Year after year, I try and try to get them to commit to holiday plans, but that Easter, Thanksgiving, Christmas, significant birthdays, and the like. I need to be able to coordinate with my side of the family as well, which is equally huge but willing to map out the scheme of things well in advance. I want everyone to be happy, and to get to spend time with everybody, so routinely I am sent into a tizzy when I’ve got everything squared away – I think – and somebody moves something and hello, conflict. So this year, getting nowhere with the turkey day preparations, I sucked it up and said them could all come to our house. Part of me thought they wouldn’t take me up on it. I was wrong.
I charged the Hub with the phone calling (the bane of my existence) to inform everyone of the Sunday 2 PM dinner (so as to separate from my side’s Thursday festivities and probably a lot of their in-law plans as well), and that I would provide the turkey, mashed potatoes, and gravy, and that the rest would be potluck so figure it out amongst yourselves. And then I promptly froze. I had never even attempted roasting a turkey in my life.
Sure, I’d watched my mom and helped out here and there. I’m also sure my limited experience after all these years was a great irritant to my generous teacher of a mother, and I apologize for not gleaning more in the past. But I sidled myself right on up to her, determined to learn at the feet of the master. And that I did, from where and what kind of turkey to buy, to the entire defrosting and washing process, to the final bird pan removal and carving. She also taught me the wonders of her stuffing (as well as setting me beside my grandma to watch the magical gravy process) and sent me out to do my darnedest.
And today, the point of no return. I followed every instruction and reached for my inner Julia Child - Martha Stewart – every woman in my ancestry mashup, crossed my fingers, and slid that beast into the oven. I got nervous when it wasn’t browning as I’d expected, and worried that it might not finish cooking before next week. I lost count of the phone calls to my own personal Butterball hotline, but every single one of them helped (thanks, Mom!) me get a little bit closer. I got a little behind on getting everything to the table on time, but I reminded myself of 2 key points: 1) it was my appointed timetable, and 2) these are people who can’t schedule anything, so an extra 30 minutes wouldn’t be an issue.
Y’all. I got that 16 pound behemoth out of the roaster by myself, without any parts falling off of it. That’s when I knew I’d won. (This is where you’re thinking it’s because the turkey wasn’t done, but I checked with an instant read thermometer twice, so nah). I whipped together that gravy just like my grandma showed me, carved up that bad boy, and opened up the buffet for business.
Everyone ate. Everyone got full. A good portion of everyone went back for seconds or at least a little nibble or pick here and there. And to my knowledge, no one got food poisoning (at least not yet). Everyone went home happy, we cleaned up the gargantuan volume of leftovers (while everyone got full, everyone also did their part in bringing a whole heckuva lot of food to begin with), and a giant pot of turkey stock is currently bubbling away on my stove. I am so thankful for my mom and grandma for teaching my not only how to put together a really proper Thanksgiving dinner, but how to open your home and heart to family and make a holiday special for everyone regardless of the amount of work it takes.
But bottom line: I am a turkey making badass. Oh yeah.
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