Before I wrote all that baloney on Wednesday about tradition, I had asked my oldest son, Sam, what we should cook since his dad hates turkey. His mother, Sally, was n ot a great cook and she was fine with that. It took nearly twenty years for him to admit that my turkeys were eatable. Five more before he decided they were alright. Every couple of years I’d make him really happy and serve something else, like duck, one year goose, last year stuffed crown pork. This year I was bent on a turkey. I asked our oldest son, Sam, who graduated from culinary school and is a blast to cook with so long as we don’t get in each other’s way, if he had any recipe ideas.
Any thoughts about what could be fun to cook? I texted
He replied: Hummmmm no clue, i was thinking about that myself.
That’s so cool! Ok, I’m gonna go out tomorrow and get a great turkey. (It is cool but I wasn’t thinking YEAH! LET’S DO IT!!)
Wait are we doing an alien thanksgiving??…
He sounded so excited. My child still wants to be with his mom, thinks she’s cool. CRAP.
Niceeee, i mean i was only kidding but im all in… might run it past the sticks in the mud tho first, ask dad and i will ask al [his brother], we don’t want people losing their appetite for Thanksgiving lol
So I say to myself what the hell and begin to scroll for a recipe which turns out to be easy because Alien facehugger turkey is a hit all over the internet and Instagram, thanks to the skills of Hellen Die. God bless her.
The one I choose turns out to be not too complicated once you break down the bird. The recipe I decide to use calls for chicken. That’s good because I did not want to wrestle with dissecting a turkey. I decide on a capon–bigger than a chicken, smaller than a turkey. All around tastier.
We go back and forth the rest of the week. He starts thinking of making alien eggs out of baked potatoes and comes up with the idea of encasing them in phyllo dough so they look ready to pop open. I hit up a great Italian meat store for the sausage tail and walk/drive around the borough looking for a good capon.
I soak the chicken in brine overnight
And we get to it Thursday afternoon. I mix the spice rub and glaze (recipes call for a ton of chili–I whole hardheartedly recommend not using half the amount.) He has sharper knives and better cutting skills so he has the job of going at the capon.
I wish it to be noted that I did iron Mom’s tablecloth and polished my mother-in-law’s silver. I made the stuffing, the gravy, canned cranberry sauce, pumpkin pie. But this is what we placed before the sticks in the mud husband and Al who, no matter what Sam says, are not at all sticks in the mud and really really liked it.