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. Pulling a turkey neck out of a raw turkey is not for the faint of heart. Since then, I have made several turkeys and now it is old hat… sometimes, I even remember to take out the giblets.
Preparing the Turkey
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 turkey neck and giblets.
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.
I knew what it LOOKED like though.
Betty failed to describe the neck.
I called my dad– who was still in bed. Which, in my family, is never a good thing.
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 calling my dad.
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’t stick them in the same hole with the neck thingy?
The Family Joke
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.