our turkey’s soul, and the souls of all other turkeys that have passed, were spinning in their little turkey graves during the event at our parent’s house this past thanksgiving.
the event started innocuously enough: our mom got up at 5am to stick the turkey in the oven. please see the turkey timer we’d given our dad the night before as a thanksgiving host present:
mom then went back to bed. the gorgeous 26 pound turkey roasted slowly over the next several hours, covered in foil until it was deemed appropriate to begin the basting process.
our parents pulled the turkey out of the oven, and our greedy little eyes drank it all in – crispy skin, plump haunches, smothered in herbs – and blood pooling beneath its wings. the bird, it appeared, was not fully cooked.
after a closer inspection, it was revealed the wings and legs were not fully cooked, while the rest of the bird was moist and succulent.
making the only decision they could at the time, our parents decided to hack the bird’s wings and legs off. the difficulty of this was exacerbated by our dad’s refusal to use a knife made for sawing through bone.
the images that follow are not for the faint of heart.
this post is dedicated to our wonderful parents, who know that doing fowl tasks together makes them much more fun.