On a cold autumn morning in 1879, Theresa T. Turkey stepped out of her tiny turkey house to greet the day. She stretched, flapping her wings as the brisk November breeze ruffled her feathers. Suddenly, she heard an odd noise to her left. It sounded like a grown man trying very hard to move silently through a dense forest. Theresa stood still for a second, listening, and then shrugged. Oh well. Probably just a squirrel. After all, no man would dare enter the Forest of Tasty Turkeys.
BANG! An old-timey rifle sounded 20 feet from Theresa. She squawked and leapt into the air, turning back and forth to locate the source of the sound. There! Hidden in a dense thicket ahead of her was a man wearing a wool coat and a jaunty cap. He painstakingly reloaded his rifle and pointed it directly at Theresa’s face. As she stared down her beak at the barrel of the gun, she thought back on her life thus far. She was still so young, and she had never even left the Forest of Tasty Turkeys. So much she still wanted to accomplish. So much plant matter left uneaten. So many squawks left unsquawked. So many chipmunks still left to chase. Theresa couldn’t die today at the hands of a human. She wouldn’t. So before the man could fire off another shot, Theresa mustered all of her turkey strength and leapt into the sky.
As the gun went off below, Theresa flapped her wings wildly and flew up to a branch about 10 feet off the ground. Panting, she wiped a drop of sweat off her turkey brow. Flying was hard work. She peered down at the forest floor and saw the man scratching his head with bewilderment. She could practically see the wheels turning in his head, wondering where she had gone. She couldn’t help but let out a hoot of laughter at the confused human, who craned his head up at the noise. Theresa gasped and quickly covered her beak, but it was too late. The man had heard her. He grinned, revealing a mouth full of flat teeth, and cocked his gun up at the sky. Theresa’s throat tightened with fear. She would have to fly again to escape.
Theresa soared into the sky once more as the gun went off again with a BANG. This time, however, she wasn’t quite as lucky. Theresa felt the bullet graze her wing, pulling off a clump of her feathers with it. Unbalanced, she teetered through the air, wobbling back and forth as she tried to regain control. Unfortunately, her struggles were all for naught.
Theresa T. Turkey crash-landed in the local village just on the outskirts of the Forest of Tasty Turkeys. She landed with a splat on the ground, rolled through the local garlic vendor’s stall and skidded in through the open front door of 123 Main Street, coming to rest in the lit fireplace. The residents of the house, not recognizing the foreign object, cowered in terror and decided to leave it alone. After a few hours, however, something started to smell delicious. The matriarch of the house bravely strode over to the fireplace and removed the mysterious specimen. Recognizing it to be a fully cooked turkey, she plopped it onto a serving dish and put it on the table for Thanksgiving dinner. And that is the story of how my great-great-great grandmother invented my family’s legendary half-plucked turkey recipe.
INGREDIENTS
1 turkey
3 cups of oil
59 cloves of garlic
Salt and pepper to taste
INSTRUCTIONS
- Remove feathers from one half of the turkey (some prefer to pluck either the top or bottom half, but the traditional recipe removes the feathers from the left side of the turkey).
- Brush the turkey with the oil, making sure to sufficiently coat the feathers. Your turkey should be oily and dripping.
- Dump the whole cloves of garlic in a bowl. Shake it around a little to activate the garlic.
- Drop the turkey into the bowl of garlic. Mix it around to thoroughly infuse the turkey with the garlic flavors.
- Leave your turkey in an open flame for three to four hours, taking care to ensure it doesn’t burn.
- Add salt and pepper to taste and enjoy!