Turkey Necks and Giblets, Oh My!

Each year around Thanksgiving, I always get a chuckle about the first turkey I ever made on my own.  It was an eye-opening experience at the crack of dawn – one I have never lived it down.  Since then, I have made several turkeys and now it is old hat… sometimes, I even remember to take out the giblets.  

The first time I cooked a turkey on my own, I got up at the crack of dawn and began the bird and all the sides.  By myself.  I followed the directions in my Betty Crocker Cookbook… washing the turkey, seasoning it.

No one told me about the neck and giblets.

No one.

At 4 am, because we had an 80 pound turkey and we were eating at noon (okay, maybe it was 15 pounds), I yank this neck out of the turkey… and had NO CLUE what it was.

No clue.

I knew what it LOOKED like though.

Betty failed to describe the neck.

I called my dad– who was still in bed– and the conversation went something like this:

Dad:  Hellowanonongre.

Me:  Dad!  What the hell is in my turkey?

Dad:  Huh?  What are you talking about?

Me:  Dad, it looks like a you-know-what.

Dad:  *Laughter*  and *More Laughter*

Me:  Dad, seriously?  What is it?  Should it be there?

Dad:  Yes.  I’m going back to bed.

I was literally standing in my kitchen holding this appendage.  I actually didn’t find out what it was until my dad got there.  I had saved it to show him.

He laughed so hard, he had to sit down.  I continued to swing the appendage at him until he told me what it was.

That’s only half of it.  I didn’t know the giblets were in the other end… so I cooked my turkey with the giblets inside.

Seriously, they can stick them in the same hole with the neck thingy?

The joke for every Thanksgiving after that was if I found the neck or not.  And who was going to get the giblet bag.  Kinda like a special prize for the lucky eater – you know, like the baby in the King cakes.

My family has a very sick sense of humor.