This isn’t about a turkey that talks. I’m just talking about turkey. Roasting a turkey to gobble it up. I started thinking about supper around 10:30 this morning. I hadn’t even thought about lunch yet. But that’s how it goes on the days that I’m trying to be organized. Not only did I figure supper out before lunch, I also got a poem out of it. I’ll post it here even though it should probably go on my cookbook site. Cookbook site? Hmmm. What do you think?
It started with a single thought:
What should I fix for dinner?
I went for a dive in my freezer
And a turkey came up as the winner.
A frozen solid turkey
With hope for a meal and then soup
Simply no time to thaw it out first–
Cook it frozen! I’ve jumped through that hoop!
A quick Google search yields instructions
(I check with them first, every time)
Slip off the plastic, no juices go spastic
It’s safer in some folks’ opine.
The turkey roasts at three twenty five
For two hours and just a bit more
The giblets come out and the bird goes back in
Be careful to, quick, shut the door.
The time to cook frozen turkeys
Increases by fifty percent
Double check doneness with temperature probe
Wait for One Sixty-five–time well spent!
Cooking a turkey from frozen:
I’ve done it a half dozen times
But never aspired,
Just wasn’t inspired,
To document how in rhymes.
Today was a change from my normal.
(Well, that thought’s a little absurd)
I’m sharing with you this thing that I do
Fowl language aside, oh my word!
The turkey is smelling delicious
Supper will be mighty fine
With roasted veggies, potatoes, and kale
We won’t just eat, we will dine!