The Scene: New Year’s Eve, 2008.
The Mission: Deep fry a turkey for a pre-going out dinner. (Who does this?! We do.)
The Cast: The boyfriend’s roommate, Jeremy and the boyfriend (Crystal and I were working on some sides.)
How it Went Down: The turkey was purchased two days ahead of time to give it ample time to thaw before throwing it into a vat of hot oil. Sounds smart, right? I thought so. But while careful attention was given to the matter of thawing the bird, less thought was given to purchasing the proper supplies such as, oh, oil and propane.
At 5:30, Crystal and I began working on our side dishes. Jeremy and the boyfriend’s roommate (I’m really sick of typing that out. So from here on out, he’s going to be known as G- Man due to his award-winning giraffe costume on Halloween. Not at all due to his height. Not at all ) prepared the bird as planned.
They then realized they were missing the items previously mentioned. So multiple people in the group go running around mid-town to find places open on New Year’s Eve.
An hour and a half later, the oil is finally being heated (outside on a cement pad, in safe distance from the house. I’m not going to lie. I had an emergency exit plan ready…) Unfortunately, now the sides were way off schedule with the bird.
In another half hour, the bird goes into the oil without a hitch and it cooks for the allotted amount of time calculated by G-Man and his turkey fryer.
It comes out looking scrumptious. The oil left in the cavity is still bubbling, so we let it cool a little.
Everyone is drooling (there were about eight of us.)
The smell of delicious fried turkey is wafting through the house. Jeremy puts the finishing touch on some mashed potatoes. I finish my green beans and Crystal pulls her quiche out of the oven. Dinner is almost served. It is now 9 p.m. and everyone is half- drunk and starving.
The boyfriend carves into the bird. Juicy, tender white meat is revealed, followed by the horrendous discovery of pink, undercooked turkey.
No freaking way.
Some people can’t wait for a decision to be made about the future of the bird. They dig into the sides.
But G-Man isn’t going out without his bird tonight. Something must be done.
But no one can figure out what that something is.. Putting it back in the fryer isn’t an option. But neither is putting it in the oven. There is no way the bird would cook before we went out. It was already after 9.
The best and only option is to pan fry up slices of the meat.
And that is what we do. We don’t care. We are so over this turkey and the whole mess of it.