I'd like to start by saying that my mother is a wonderful cook and I can honestly never say I've had a horrible Thanksgiving dish. So instead, I'm going to write not about the worst dish I've had, but the worst dish my parents' neighbours ever had. I wasn't actually there for this, so this may or may not be embellished slightly :)
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It was Thanksgiving day, and Don was preparing the turkey. This was nothing new in the Wyatt household, Don tended to do most of the cooking for major events. Not that Maggie couldn't cook - she was, actually, a fabulous baker. In fact, it was her insistence at a proper appliance for baking that brought about the purchase of a new oven right before the Thanksgiving season. Evidently the threat of pumpkin pie from Sobey's was enough to spur Don into purchasing a new, top-of-the-line convection oven.
Don had really wanted this to be a special Thanksgiving. His eldest daughter was bringing home her new fiance, and his younger daughter was bringing her long-term boyfriend. He hoped this would be the Thanksgiving he'd be able to tell his future grandchildren about, the time they were first all together as a family. So Don woke up at dawn, chopped the vegetables and mixed them in with the bread he'd meticulous torn up a few days prior. He pulled out the instruction manual for the new oven, and carefully programmed in the correct times and temperatures. Then he prepped his hand-selected 15 lb turkey.
And so it was, 7:00 in the morning, Don up to his elbows in a
turkey's backside, and the new convection oven pre-heating to 300 degrees. When he was satisfied with the final trimmings, Don gingerly set the bird in the stainless steel roasting pan, covered it with tin foil, and put it in the oven.
Exhausted, he crept down to the TV room, flipped on the football pre-show, and promptly fell asleep.
A few hours later, Don awoke to the sound of the doorball as his daughter and her fiance arrived. He looked at his watch and noticed, fleetingly, that the bird had been in the oven for over 3 hours, but he couldn't yet smell it. He was quickly distracted as he gave Suzy a hug and shook Bryan's hand. Suzy was a dedicated vegan, and as such Don tried to avoid any conversations regarding meat or meat products. Those quickly headed in directions that tended to ruin family gatherings. Maggie soon joined them, and got everyone settled with a drink.
Don wandered into the kitchen and decided to check on the turkey. He grabbed his baster, peeked under the tin foil smiled as he caught sight of the slightly darkening skin on the top of the bird. He quickly coated it with juices, and shut the oven door before too much heat could escape.
A few hours later, dinner quickly approaching, Don peeked in on the turkey to see how it was coming along. He lifted the corner of the foil, and, deciding it had been in nearly long enough, removed the covering completely to allow the top to brown up a bit. Don returned to his family with a satisfied smile on his face. Yes, this was turning out to be one of the finest turkeys he'd ever prepared. His family (Suzy excepted) would enjoy every moment of this turkey dinner.
As the timer beeped, Don hurried into the kitchen to gaze upon the wonderous bird he'd made. He quickly pulled out the roasting pan, his glasses fogging from the heat of the oven, and set it on top of the stove. Don inhaled quickly, savouring the scent that he'd waited for all day.
In the living room, Maggie poured her children another glass of wine, getting ready to help Don with dinner, when suddenly an echoing screech arose from the kitchen. Maggie exchanged a quick look with her daughters before running to see what had happened. She envisioned her husband surrounded by broken glass or having burnt himself on the hot stove. But instead she was greeted by Don, standing beside the roasting pan, his entire body deflated, his face covered in a slight sheen of steam and his glass still half fogged over. She quickly glanced around the room, trying to see what all the wracket was for, when she caught sight of the turkey.
From the top, it looked like a magazine-worthy feast, but past the edge of the roasting pan, it was still completely raw. Maggie instantly burst into laughter, quieting herself only after seeing the dejected look on Don's face. She cleared her throat, attempting to hide the giggle that was trying to break free, before assuring Don that it was okay. Maybe it just needed to go in a bit longer! Don nodded dejectedly and set the pan back in the oven.
An hour later, Don decided to check on things again. He lifted out the pan and quickly noticed that the turkey, while now starting to burn on top, was still pink and rubbery on the bottom. Frustrated, Don decided that maybe it was the roasting pan. Maybe it was made of some space-age super-thick metal that only cooked at super high temperature. He couldn't quite figure out why he was able to successfully use it every year prior and had never had this problem before, but no matter. He could save Thanksgiving! So Don searched through the cupboards for the most breathable cooking try he could find. Which, of course, ended up being a metal cooling rack Maggie typically used for baking cookies. Don was quite pleased with himself for his ingenuity and creativity! No way that turkey wasn't going to cook now!
So Don placed the half-cooked bird on the rack and set it back in the oven. Yet another hour passed, and Don returned once more to the ill-fated turkey. By this point, the top half of the turkey was quickly approaching char-broiled. But what he was most surprised to see were the scorch marks creeping up the sides of the bottom half! Evidently, the grease from the turkey was dripping onto the elements on the bottom of the oven and causing flames to spring up and burn the nearly-raw turkey.
By this point Don had had enough. He grabbed the god-forsaken pheasant and whipped in into the sink, which happened to be filled with dirty dishwater. An enormouse splash rose from the sink, soaking Don in dishwater and turkey drippings, and narrowly missing the octogenarian wiener dog sitting at his feet. Don looked down at the dog, speechless, and as the dog looked back up at him, he swore he saw him shake his head before slowly walking away.
That Thanksgiving was certainly one that Don would tell his grandchildren about. It was the first Thanksgiving they were together as a family. It was the Thanksgiving Don decided that under no circumstances would he ever eat anything called "tofurkey" ever again. And it was also they Thanksgiving that the Wyatt's learned to turn off the "convection" feature on their convevtion oven.
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