One Mom’s Meat





class=MsoNormal>Everyone agrees that turkey is a fundamental part of Thanksgiving. Even my Italian sister-in-law, who thinks the Pilgrims ate lasagna, concurs that turkey is, at the very least, an important side dish. It was with that sentiment in mind that I set out to procure a bird that would not only feed the 15 adults and children coming to my house for the holiday meal, but also provide ample leftovers for those staying through the weekend.


class=MsoNormal>An ordinary specimen wouldn’t do. So when our local newspaper ran an article about places that raise organic, free-range turkeys, I called and ordered a big one. It seemed like a delicious and politically correct alternative to the frozen, foolproof, self-basting birds from the supermarket. Plus, I figured a trip to the turkey farm would be a new family tradition – like chopping your own Christmas tree, only with poultry.


class=MsoNormal>On the day our dinner was to be, errrr …. dressed, I rounded up the kids.


class=MsoNormal>“Who wants to drive out to the country and visit a turkey farm?” I chirped.


class=MsoNormal>“Can we stop at the mall?” my 15-year-old daughter asked.


class=MsoNormal>“No, we’re just going to get the Thanksgiving turkey.”


class=MsoNormal>“I’m thinking of becoming a vegetarian,” she said. “Is Aunt Toni bringing lasagna?”


class=MsoNormal>Visions of a Walton-esque afternoon were rapidly fading. The only taker was 10-year-old Lewis and he was looking to bargain.


class=MsoNormal>“I’ll go,” he said, “but only if I don’t have to eat turnips.”


class=MsoNormal>“OK,” I agreed hastily.


class=MsoNormal>“And I get extra whipped cream on my pie and I don’t have to give my bed to the cousins.”


class=MsoNormal>“It’s a deal,” I said and we got into the car.


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