November 11, 2020
Just Saying…
By Q.C. Jones
An Age-Old Thanksgiving Question
Many moons ago, we argued the question of America’s Thanksgiving Tradition. Is the tradition real or a bit of Cold War propaganda? We concluded; the Pilgrims really did have a Thanksgiving celebration and indigenous peoples were invited. Regardless of the anecdotal stones tossed regarding a Latin American version predating that giant picnic in Plymouth, that buckle shoe wearing, blunderbuss carrying band were good for a turkey day celebration.
Two or three years past, we explored the domestication and re-domestication of the famous bird which happens to be one of the new world’s gifts to the culinary art and the centerpiece of grandma produced meals from coast to coast and throughout the fruited plains of Iowa and Illinois. Prior to the introduction of turkeys from the new world, peacocks were the favored foul of the rich and famous of Europe. Sadly, for our feathered friends of the gobbler variety,
peacock meat is noted for being stringy and tough.
Skipping over something like a thousand years of history and moving straight to the present, I was privy to a private conversation down at the local grocery. I overheard or maybe eavesdropped on a couple of people talking turkey – literally. It seems many housewives struggle with the right kind of turkey to prepare for the big feast. More importantly, because as they say, “proof is in the pudding” or in this case in the bird, we are going to explore the type of turkey appreciated by your erstwhile food critic, one QC Jones.
Allow me to set the stage. In my 60 plus years as a consumer of turkey, I have tried it all. To illustrate: I will journal the various types of turkeys I have consumed throughout the years.
Farm fresh turkeys are birds which go from farm to fork in a matter of hours. These gobblers aren’t shipped to some packing plant for processing, they are not frozen, and typically don’t make a trip to meat isle at the local grocery store. Supposedly they are humanely killed by the farmer, which eliminates the fright induced stress caused by truck transit to the “meat factory” or packaging plant. According to some, the terror of the trip riddles the meat with toxic enzymes and damages the flavor. While this hypothesis may be true, my uncultured pallet did not/could not substantiate the theory. To me it tasted like, well, turkey.
According to USDA Turkey Market Report, hen turkeys dominate the whole bird market because of their convenient 8 to 16-pound range. According to cooking experts, the meat from a female turkey is more tender and flavorful than that of a male turkey. Some further claim, the female turkey contains micro-nutrients which improve the complexion. My personal experience SAYS these turkeys leave scant few leftovers. This translates into no turkey tetrazzini the week following Thanksgiving.
Tom turkeys close in on the small ostrich in size, weighing in at a whopping 18-28 pounds. Carving one of these monstrosities calls for an industrial-strength chain saw. Further, the one I consumed required a small crane to lift out of the oven. It was gigantic. And, like so many turkeys, the meat was dried out with a small bite of white meat requiring at least a half bottle of wine to rinse down. I liked the wine, not so much for the cotton consistency turkey flesh.
Dried out turkey may be an issue addressed by cooks since the day after the original Plymouth Rock roasting. One enterprising chef came up with the Turducken. For those of you unfamiliar with this concoction, the turducken is the culinary equivalent to Frankenstein’s monster; a creature made up of the deboned meat of chicken, duck, and turkey. QC’s gourmand brother-in-law commandeered one of these creatures and served it up in fine tradition. The dryness problem was overcome. We are getting close to a better bird.
Way down south in Louisiana, the Cajun Swamp Rats take a break from their daily diet of catfish, crawdads, and alligators to observe Thanksgiving. Being solid Americans, they eat turkey; fried not roasted. They start with a giant pot of boiling peanut oil and toss in a turkey. A short 40 minutes later the entire bird is French Fried (remembering the French heritage of these folks) to a golden brown. My pal Drew Allen treated me to this turkey, and I would say, everything is better fried.
Returning to our original question. What type of turkey does QC Jones find the best?
This year my lovely bride and I have been invited to Thanksgiving Dinner with our fabulous grandkids and their family. Rather than waking up early to rattle around the kitchen, sleeping in will be the order of the day. Instead of cleaning the house for the big celebration, we will meander over to their house where we will be surrounded by their four beautiful daughters. This year the turkey will be QC’s favorite.
Answering the question. The best turkey ever is free turkey prepared with love and care. Just saying…
