A Girl and This Turkey: Commitment

I got married for the first time at the ripe old age of forty-one. I make commitments, but slowly, methodically. 

            There’s this turkey. My stepson has brought it. My husband wonders if I will roast it for Christmas dinner. And I want to, I really do have the desire to make it happen. But desire and commitment have nothing to do with each other. Ask my mid-30s self! 

            I polled my teaching colleagues on the playground: Turkey? How hard is it? Easy, they said. You can do this, they said. Use a turkey bag, Katherine said. They make the turkey self-basting. Use Bobby Flay’s recipe, Lori said. It’s amazingly delicious! Turkey is not my favorite thing: it can be bland and the danger of it being dry seems high. Combining the recommended recipe with a turkey bag seems the way to go. 

            Yesterday, I got my Christmas shopping and shipping done. Ready or not, it’s time to make the Christmas menu and shopping list. 

I know nothing about roasting turkey, and I know nothing about THIS turkey. Okay. So, time to get acquainted, to see if I can commit to it. 

I do know that the defrosting and roasting time of a turkey all depend upon how many pounds the turkey is. The packaging the turkey is in gives no clues to the poundage. 

So this morning, I do it. I get out the bathroom scale. I weigh myself. 

Weighing oneself before preparing a holiday dinner seems counterintuitive, if not downright masochistic, right??? Thanksgiving has already happened! I’m in the midst of the fattest season of the year! The indignity. No one tells you in Home Ec in junior high that cooking will involve such debasement, but there it is. 

I weigh myself in order to get to know my turkey better: I know of no other way to find out how much heweighs than to weigh myself and then weigh myself with him. Math will light the way. Subtraction. 

He’s fifteen pounds, my turkey is. I quickly look up defrosting times on the Butterball website: Do I have time for a full refrigerator defrost? YES! From Friday morning to Tuesday will give me the time he needs to thaw. 

I grab the jellyroll pan, place him breast side up on it in the fridge. 

A fifteen-pound defrosting turkey is a serious thing. A poultry iceberg is changing states. There’s no turning back. There’s no time for hemming and hawing anymore. The desire has become commitment. The commitment has been made. 

This turkey will be the centerpiece of our Christmas feast.