Lucy overheard me telling Austin this and burst into tears. How could we be such cold, unfeeling people, to end the life of a turkey just for our own selfish enjoyment? For Lucy, poultry are friends, not food. She refused to talk to us for the rest of the night.
Subsequent conversations about how a turkey is fulfilling its purpose in life by being roasted for Thanksgiving left Lucy unmoved. Gavin likewise. He announced that from now on he only eats things that can't escape. As in, "I'll eat apples, Mom, because they don't have any legs. But I won't eat turkey because turkeys can run away from me." How can parents respond so such impeccable logic?
The turkey arrived, clean and plucked, on Sunday night. The children responded by putting on a play in which a turkey chases a Pilgrim and tries to eat him, until both Pilgrim and turkey decide to eat macaroni and cheese instead. But this was their only act of civil disobedience for the night. The turkey went into a big cooler of ice water and out to the back porch.
On Tuesday night I cooked up this delicious brine: apple cider, orange peel, fresh rosemary, bay leaves, peppercorns, and lots of kosher salt. The turkey bathed in the brine through the day on Wednesday, then that night I put it in the oven at 225 degrees.
When I checked the turkey at 6:00am, it was waaaaaay past done. I should have realized that our turkey was only about half as big as the ones the farmers planned to cook and adjusted their recommendations accordingly. But despite having cooked it too long, the turkey was amazing. Juicy and delicious, falling off the bone like it had been cooked in a crock pot, with just a hint of the fruity savory brine. Wow.
Lucy and Gavin decorated the house with turkey tributes. This one is Gavin's. Look how huge the turkey is compared with the corn stalks.
Some of Lucy's decorations. Under the abstract "I Heart Thanksgiving" sign is a sketch of a turkey with pleading eyes and the words "Don't eat me, I don't taste good."
"Turkeys Taste Bad!" declares this lovely decoration. Fortunately, the kids confined their Thanksgiving protest to these posted placards and otherwise allowed our dinner to go forward without a hitch. It helped that our friend Alma joined us. Nothing like a little company to quell rebellion.
Alma brought a fruit basket which provided Gavin with the entirety of his Thanksgiving feast. (One apple and 6 grapes.) Lucy consumed two large packages of her favorite Boston Market mac n' cheese. And the rest of us enjoyed the most wonderful turkey I have ever eaten. Those kids really have no idea what they are missing out on.
