| Humor Non-Fiction posted May 7, 2021 |
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Paste-n-Baste: Juiciest turkey ever!
Dinner Disaster with a Twist
by Elizabeth Emerald
When my friend Chuck's mother-in-law was newly married, she invited her in-laws over for Thanksgiving.
Barbara was understandably anxious. For one thing, her snobbish mother-in-law considered Barbara "common." For another, Barbara had never cooked a turkey. Nor much else.
Barbara, having observed her own mother dredging drumsticks in flour before deep frying them, extrapolated the prep step to the roasting of a turkey. Accordingly, she poured half a sack of flour into a large bowl, and, rotating the bird best she could, liberally patted it with flour.
She then placed the snow-coated turkey in a roasting pan, stuck it into the oven, and crossed her fingers.
Forty minutes later, puzzled by the lack of aroma, Barbara opened the oven door to check.
Turkey raw, oven cold. DUH.
Sheepishly glancing in the direction of her husband, Barbara surreptitiously turned on the oven, hoping Joe would assume she was simply tweaking the temperature.
She crossed her fingers, this time on both hands.
Fortunately, the turkey took pity on her and cooked itself prematurely; thus dinner was not delayed. The in-laws arrived on time and were promptly seated.
Barbara, having placed the turkey on an attractive platter, carried it into the dining room, and set it before her husband for carving.
Joe proceeded to do so, and was stymied to find that the utensils didn't make a dent; the coating had hardened into an impenetrable shell.
As it happened, Joe, who'd been preparing to paper the kitchen, had set the sack of paste powder on the counter.
Six inches from the sack of flour.
The snooty mother-in-law, her trailing husband casting an apologetic glance at Barbara and Joe, stalked out of the house.
Barbara and Joe, after smashing the casing with a sledgehammer, were delighted to find the bird delectably moist.
It was by far the juiciest turkey they'd ever eaten.
When my friend Chuck's mother-in-law was newly married, she invited her in-laws over for Thanksgiving.
Barbara was understandably anxious. For one thing, her snobbish mother-in-law considered Barbara "common." For another, Barbara had never cooked a turkey. Nor much else.
Barbara, having observed her own mother dredging drumsticks in flour before deep frying them, extrapolated the prep step to the roasting of a turkey. Accordingly, she poured half a sack of flour into a large bowl, and, rotating the bird best she could, liberally patted it with flour.
She then placed the snow-coated turkey in a roasting pan, stuck it into the oven, and crossed her fingers.
Forty minutes later, puzzled by the lack of aroma, Barbara opened the oven door to check.
Turkey raw, oven cold. DUH.
Sheepishly glancing in the direction of her husband, Barbara surreptitiously turned on the oven, hoping Joe would assume she was simply tweaking the temperature.
She crossed her fingers, this time on both hands.
Fortunately, the turkey took pity on her and cooked itself prematurely; thus dinner was not delayed. The in-laws arrived on time and were promptly seated.
Barbara, having placed the turkey on an attractive platter, carried it into the dining room, and set it before her husband for carving.
Joe proceeded to do so, and was stymied to find that the utensils didn't make a dent; the coating had hardened into an impenetrable shell.
As it happened, Joe, who'd been preparing to paper the kitchen, had set the sack of paste powder on the counter.
Six inches from the sack of flour.
The snooty mother-in-law, her trailing husband casting an apologetic glance at Barbara and Joe, stalked out of the house.
Barbara and Joe, after smashing the casing with a sledgehammer, were delighted to find the bird delectably moist.
It was by far the juiciest turkey they'd ever eaten.
Barbara was understandably anxious. For one thing, her snobbish mother-in-law considered Barbara "common." For another, Barbara had never cooked a turkey. Nor much else.
Barbara, having observed her own mother dredging drumsticks in flour before deep frying them, extrapolated the prep step to the roasting of a turkey. Accordingly, she poured half a sack of flour into a large bowl, and, rotating the bird best she could, liberally patted it with flour.
She then placed the snow-coated turkey in a roasting pan, stuck it into the oven, and crossed her fingers.
Forty minutes later, puzzled by the lack of aroma, Barbara opened the oven door to check.
Turkey raw, oven cold. DUH.
Sheepishly glancing in the direction of her husband, Barbara surreptitiously turned on the oven, hoping Joe would assume she was simply tweaking the temperature.
She crossed her fingers, this time on both hands.
Fortunately, the turkey took pity on her and cooked itself prematurely; thus dinner was not delayed. The in-laws arrived on time and were promptly seated.
Barbara, having placed the turkey on an attractive platter, carried it into the dining room, and set it before her husband for carving.
Joe proceeded to do so, and was stymied to find that the utensils didn't make a dent; the coating had hardened into an impenetrable shell.
As it happened, Joe, who'd been preparing to paper the kitchen, had set the sack of paste powder on the counter.
Six inches from the sack of flour.
The snooty mother-in-law, her trailing husband casting an apologetic glance at Barbara and Joe, stalked out of the house.
Barbara and Joe, after smashing the casing with a sledgehammer, were delighted to find the bird delectably moist.
It was by far the juiciest turkey they'd ever eaten.
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