My fresh-from-the-farmer (Grower? Rancher?)-turkey arrived today and I am pleased to report that he arrived both naked and headless. In addition, I’m relatively certain that the tasty bits of his innards are indeed safely tucked away in a little baggie located somewhere up his hoo-ha; I just haven’t had a chance to get all up in his business to make sure. Give me an hour or so.
Then, I plan to submerge Foghorn Leghorn in a bucket full of tasty brine where he will marinate for the next thirty-six hours before being subjected to a fisting with stuffing and a slow roast in a hot oven at which point my recurring nightmares featuring half-decapitated zombie turkeys armed with bloody basters and trussing twine will certainly cease in their entirety.
Fingers crossed.
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