Did I tell you about the "turkey adventure" we are undertaking this year? If you have read Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver (and I sincerely hope you have), you probably remember the chapter describing what it takes to raise those mega-breasted turkeys you see in the supermarket. I have been feeling rather guilty about those poor sex-deprived birds ever since. So, when I heard that there was a family in the area who raises turkeys naturally, I came straight home and called to place my order.
They slaughter them all on the Saturday before Thanksgiving, which was yesterday, and we went to pick ours up at their meat locker late afternoon. It is on the small side, weighing in at just 10 lbs., and it sure isn't any big-breasted butterball, but boy, is it ever fresh! I'm just relieved that all signs of the slaughtering process had been cleared away before we arrived, and that the turkey carcass was relatively clean, though somewhat drippy.
I'm not sure if I was actually smelling blood on the drive home, or if it was my over-active imagination. The turkey was in a plastic bag, which had then been placed in a closed cooler, but I drive a mini, and the cooler was sitting right behind me. Plus it was cold and drizzly, so we had the windows shut and the heater on. All I know is, I was ever so glad to get out and breathe some fresh air when we finally made it home. John would never have let me hear the end of it, if that turkey had made me barf.
GIVE-AWAY NEWS: I've decided to throw in a couple of locally made goodies, in addition to your wonderful book, for this month's give-away. Just leave a comment telling me you are interested, by Nov. 30th. It doesn't matter if you have already won - you can still put your name in the hat. Also, I'm willing to let you comment up to once a day between now and the 30th, so the more times you visit, the better your odds of winning!
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4 comments:
Yeah, I'm pretty sure if your turkey made you sick, you would never hear the end of it.
The smell of blood? Yeah, I would have barfed on the way home.
I've been wanting to read Barbara Kingsolver's book. I love the idea of eating locally, but I'm not sure about a fresh, bloody turkey. Its easy to imagine that this big frozen Butterball happily grew on a turkey vine somewhere, and never had a face. I'm such a whimp.
Here's hoping it has enough meat on it, and is tasty enough to satisfy our guests, else this will soon become my brother-in-law's new favorite thing to give me grief about for the next 20 years.
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