Cooking my first turkey became my own Christmas gift

Just like millions of households across America a few days past Christmas, my refrigerator holds the remains of a picked-over turkey.

It’s ordinary post-holiday fare for most, but it’s extraordinary for me.

My turkey isn’t fancy, but it’s flavorful. And best of all, it’s my first.

This is the year when I am not just learning to cook courageously, but learning to cook, period.

I was planning on spending Christmas Day, all by myself, intentionally and quite happily, actually. I turned down a friend’s thoughtful invitation to eat with 14 others. I’m an introvert, and sometimes quiet times alone, minus the fanfare, are the best times.

I have always spent Christmas in the company of my family. This year, that didn’t happen, and that’s okay. Knowing I would be on my own, I ventured to consider that I might even cook my own turkey. For one.

But, how? I had never even used an oven in my 56 years. I also had never even been interested in learning to make meals for more than one, not even during my 10 years with Frank.

As a kid, even as an adult, all I knew about turkey on holidays was that dark meat is the best, and the skin is even better. (I know better now, than to eat more turkey skin than turkey meat).

In my world, turkey at Thanksgiving and Christmas always just appeared on the table, never mind how it was cooked, or who cooked it, or whether the stuffing was cooked inside, or alongside.

This time, I figured it was about time that I learned to do this life skill myself.

So on the Tuesday before Christmas, at 5 p.m., I walked to the Lubec IGA. I might have found a greater selection of size and price if I had driven the 28 miles to Hannaford in Machias, but that didn’t interest me last Tuesday.

All I could find was a 14-pound turkey costing $1.70 a pound. Hadn’t I seen a Hannaford flyer a week ago showing 89 cents a pound? Fine, whatever. This is what you get, when you wait until the last minute.

So I lugged my turkey home, snapped a photo and posted my turkey tale on Facebook. Any advice appreciated, I said.

Twenty-nine people weighed in. Make sure I get the giblets and stuff out of both ends, Brenda advised. Try a dry brine, Tori suggested (but I was 24 hours too late to even think of that). Watch for the loose drumstick at the end, and I’ll know it’s done, Mary noted.

Rub a bit of butter on the skin, Nancy said. Roast it breast down, Troy said, and stuff it with onions, carrots and celery, rather than stuffing.

Do stuffing inside, some said. Don’t do stuffing inside, others said.

Look up the Butterball.com videos, Dawn said. Follow directions on this website, Peggy added. Follow directions on the package, Pat said.

Buy a meat thermometer and use it, both Susan and Carol said.

Call if I want to talk it through, Jean said. Baste it regularly, Kathryn noted. Start it upside down for about two hours, then turn it over, and wrap the legs in tin foil to make them jucier, Anne said. Use lemon juice inside and out, Heidi said.

Put the turkey back in the freezer, put on a nice dress and makeup, go to a fun venue and meet a nice man, said one of my sisters, who seriously knows that cooking anything is so unlike me.

You got this one, Jennifer cheered.

Christmas Day arrived on Friday, and I wasn’t ready. Even with all my assembled advice.

My turkey needed one more day to thaw. What’s one more day’s delay for cooking a turkey, after 35 years of attending family gatherings but not taking part in anything but eating?

Saturday, I was ready. I had picked up a roasting pan and meat thermometer at Hannaford. I unwrapped my turkey, washed it, then put lemon juice, salt and pepper on the inside. Then I did as Troy had suggested, filling it with the veggies.

I had forgotten to dry it, inside and out. But I carried on.

I had bought what I needed for a stuffing with French bread, walnuts and raisins. But dare I be too ambitious, I soon set aside any thoughts of making either stuffing or gravy.

This turkey, which was enough to feed 10 or 12 people, was also plenty enough for me to try at all. Especially as I didn’t have 10 or 11 others to help me eat whatever was coming out of the oven.

Rather than put plenty of butter on the outside, I splashed it with olive oil here and there, plus more salt and pepper all around. Then I realized that for my onion, garlic and carrots combination inside, I had forgotten the celery. So I cut up and belatedly added celery to the mix.

And when I remembered that I should put in some fresh parsley sprigs, too, I tossed in some parsley flakes instead. Not the same, it turned out, but I was doing this turkey on my terms.

Did I baste? Of course not. I didn’t know what basting was, until I Googled basting to write this blog. And now that I know, I appreciate the well-intentioned suggestions to baste. But I’m leaving that for the next time.

Did I put the turkey in breast-side down, as a few suggested? Yes, but I had to look up a photo online to make sure which was the breast side. (It’s wings up, legs down).

I had the meat thermometer at the ready, but I didn’t use it. Either the turkey was done, or not done, or it was close enough, I figured. I used a knife instead. And when the juice inside looked clear and no longer pink, I considered that good enough.

Out came my turkey, about three hours and 16 minutes after it went in, fingers crossed. As for the little red thing that is supposed to pop up when done? I forgot to look for it.

The turkey looked lopsided, even strange. How could I have known what a Christmas turkey should look like, especially having never seen a turkey just out of the oven?

turkey

But the drumsticks were loose, and the meat fell away as it was supposed to. It was far from perfect, but it tasted great, according to me.

In the end, I was pleased with the turkey, and with myself. Even if I will be eating enough turkey for 12, on my own, in coming days and weeks.

And next time, I might even throw in a little confidence.

Katherine Cassidy

About Katherine Cassidy

Making meals is an everyday occurrence for everyone else, yet this writer has gone years without making much of anything in the kitchen. On the verge of turning 56, she is committing herself to learning to cook at last -- both late in life and in public. Watch her as she ventures beyond boiling an egg,