Turkey, the other pink meat
I'd originally planned on spending a quiet Memorial Day at home catching up on some reading (as in completing a re-read of the entire Dresden Files series), when we received a call from the family out in Staten Island asking us to come out to try some turkey. Not just any turkey, but a smoked turkey that my uncle was reported have been slaving over for what seemed like days. Being stuck in traffic on the Belt Parkway for hours on end with the end goal of eating a bird that very few people can actually cook *well* wasn't doing it for me, but I felt bad about simply blowing the family off and staying at home after the invitation had been given so I decided to suck it up and go.
When we got there we were greeted by my uncle, who smelled of mesquite and hickory from 20 feet away. He hadn't started the smoker until early that morning but the fourteen pound turkey had been brining since the night before. There was a big to-do with wood chips placed in water to help them smolder instead of burn, operating his brand new power grill/smoker, making sure the meat was the correct temperature, all steps that we usually could care less about that led met to believe the man had seen one too many shows on either The Food Network or DIY and decided to embark on a new food journey. Which, fine, but the guy had never dealt with cooking anything outside of burgers, franks, and chicken parts on a grill. The intricacies of making sure a large finicky bird like a turkey was cooked properly was obviously beyond him, but he couldn't take direction from any of the more experienced cooks who were present.
He came inside at one point bouncing (his enthusiasm about the whole endeavor was adorable, btw), to tell us that while the breast was reading 165 degrees F (he grabbed his left pec when sharing this information, as if to assist those of us who might not know the location relative to a person) and thus free of bad bacteria, "this" [he pointed to his left hipbone so I'm going to assume he meant the thigh] was only 155 and so the turkey wasn't quite done. The females in the room turned to each other almost as one, imagining overcooked breast meat and undercooked dark meat...basically typical Thanksgiving fare from a rank amateur. Uncle's solution was to keep the bird in the smoker/grill for "another hour." My aunt tried to keep pointing out how that strategy wouldn't work but uncle wasn't hearing it, and the hour dragged out to almost an hour and a half before uncle threw in the towel and took the turkey off the fire.
Long story short we trekked out to Staten Island for a turkey that reached 165F at all points at one time or another, but with thighs that were still pink and a breast that, while intact, required lots of sips of water to stop it from being a true choking hazard. Unc's enthusiasm was somewhat diminished at the end of it all (I asked him if he would try smoking a turkey again in the future and he solemnly pondering the question for a half minute before responding with "maybe?" Too cute.), but maybe next time he'll listen to his cooking elders.
***
Littlest Bro is down from college and in the process of looking for jobs. He'll be heading over to the new Trader Joe's opening up in Chelsea tomorrow to try to get a part-time gig over there. A little while ago I helped him fill out the application (very straightforward, since he's only held one other job) and, on a whim, asked him the typical interview question "why do you want to work for X" (Trader Joe's being the location in question this time). He gave me a horrible response, and when I asked him he shared that he hadn't interviewed for a job before. I mean, I know you aren't just born with interviewing skills, but it surprised me how bad he was at spewing the typical BS. Sort of in a good way, I guess - I like that he's an open, honest, kind kid. But I essentially had to teach him to lie to get what he wants. Not in so few words, but yeah. I went to the website with him and told him to study a bit about the store and what it offered then asked him a couple of questions with the hopes that he retains it for a couple of hours. Of course, as soon as I left him he went to play video games instead of trying to brush up on the things I pointed out to him. Meh.
***
I'm re-reading Dresden with the hopes of doing fic for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
smallfandomfest. Maybe a stalling tactic? Just have to keep the creative juices flowing.
Gah. Don't want to go to work tomorrow. Can't make me. Unless your name is Sallie Mae or the US Department of Education, in which case fine, be that way. I hate you.
When we got there we were greeted by my uncle, who smelled of mesquite and hickory from 20 feet away. He hadn't started the smoker until early that morning but the fourteen pound turkey had been brining since the night before. There was a big to-do with wood chips placed in water to help them smolder instead of burn, operating his brand new power grill/smoker, making sure the meat was the correct temperature, all steps that we usually could care less about that led met to believe the man had seen one too many shows on either The Food Network or DIY and decided to embark on a new food journey. Which, fine, but the guy had never dealt with cooking anything outside of burgers, franks, and chicken parts on a grill. The intricacies of making sure a large finicky bird like a turkey was cooked properly was obviously beyond him, but he couldn't take direction from any of the more experienced cooks who were present.
He came inside at one point bouncing (his enthusiasm about the whole endeavor was adorable, btw), to tell us that while the breast was reading 165 degrees F (he grabbed his left pec when sharing this information, as if to assist those of us who might not know the location relative to a person) and thus free of bad bacteria, "this" [he pointed to his left hipbone so I'm going to assume he meant the thigh] was only 155 and so the turkey wasn't quite done. The females in the room turned to each other almost as one, imagining overcooked breast meat and undercooked dark meat...basically typical Thanksgiving fare from a rank amateur. Uncle's solution was to keep the bird in the smoker/grill for "another hour." My aunt tried to keep pointing out how that strategy wouldn't work but uncle wasn't hearing it, and the hour dragged out to almost an hour and a half before uncle threw in the towel and took the turkey off the fire.
Long story short we trekked out to Staten Island for a turkey that reached 165F at all points at one time or another, but with thighs that were still pink and a breast that, while intact, required lots of sips of water to stop it from being a true choking hazard. Unc's enthusiasm was somewhat diminished at the end of it all (I asked him if he would try smoking a turkey again in the future and he solemnly pondering the question for a half minute before responding with "maybe?" Too cute.), but maybe next time he'll listen to his cooking elders.
***
Littlest Bro is down from college and in the process of looking for jobs. He'll be heading over to the new Trader Joe's opening up in Chelsea tomorrow to try to get a part-time gig over there. A little while ago I helped him fill out the application (very straightforward, since he's only held one other job) and, on a whim, asked him the typical interview question "why do you want to work for X" (Trader Joe's being the location in question this time). He gave me a horrible response, and when I asked him he shared that he hadn't interviewed for a job before. I mean, I know you aren't just born with interviewing skills, but it surprised me how bad he was at spewing the typical BS. Sort of in a good way, I guess - I like that he's an open, honest, kind kid. But I essentially had to teach him to lie to get what he wants. Not in so few words, but yeah. I went to the website with him and told him to study a bit about the store and what it offered then asked him a couple of questions with the hopes that he retains it for a couple of hours. Of course, as soon as I left him he went to play video games instead of trying to brush up on the things I pointed out to him. Meh.
***
I'm re-reading Dresden with the hopes of doing fic for
smallfandomfest. Maybe a stalling tactic? Just have to keep the creative juices flowing.Gah. Don't want to go to work tomorrow. Can't make me. Unless your name is Sallie Mae or the US Department of Education, in which case fine, be that way. I hate you.