PSA: Holiday’s A-Coming
I understand you folks Stateside have a sacred holiday coming up later this week. I’ve been trying to get my head round it through vigorous research around the Web, and it seems to focus on gathering your relatives together for the offering of a sacrificial exotic fowl of fearsome aspect and proportions to the Gods of Oil and Fire.
The Orthodox practise seems to be to bring the local community, along with key emergency responders, together to cap your day by sharing the spectacular Ritual of the Meleagris Gallopavo Explosion In Your Back Yard. Some conduct this stage indoors, but this is frowned upon in more traditional quarters—Why be so insular? And in any case, not everybody even has walls, given the prevalence of hurricanes and floods—Why rub it in on this most auspicious of days?—so in solidarity with those less fortunate, some drag their furniture right out there and let everyone partake of the spectacle. Heck, if they have the resources and forethought, they televise it.
Christ, you must really hate those birds.
Few can afford such lavish staging in these straitened times, so the typical domestic practise is a little more modest in scale. It is positively dangerous to carry a heavy object like a full-grown deep-frozen turkey long distances, so a tradition of thoughtfulness for the cooks, as well as a hedge against inclement weather, dictates that the Ceremonial Pyre be located no more than two steps from the Kitchen Door, within easy reach of the Deep Freeze, and more importantly, the Liquor Cabinet.
Sometimes, if the offering for some reason fails to explode, the result is altogether more low-key, and not all that the celebrants might have wished. This triggers the next stage in the ritual, where the remains are dissected and inspected at length, accompanied by the age-old Lament of the Bemoaning. This is such an important observance that rehearsals begin as early as June.
Given the scope for error, accident, and disappointment through the Orthodox methods, some have adopted new-fangled gadgetry to simulate the overall effect in a tamer, more extended fashion indoors, by brining the carcass in sump oil and feeding it into a purpose-built electric incinerator that is dedicated to this sole purpose. Not that this approach is entirely without pitfalls. In this case, the Orthodox Lament of the Bemoaning is modified, conducted in strict seclusion by a nominated family member, and heavy on the (NSFW) repetitious incantation of certain key words.
This sect fills the time that would otherwise be spent dancing gaily round the Ceremonial Pyre and gathering fragments of turkey flesh and shrapnel from nearby roofs and bushes by actually attempting to eat the smoking remains, which is just bizarre, and traditionally followed by an additional stage, the I Can’t Believe I Ate The Whole Thing Chorus, which can last hours, if not days. That’s a lot of oily incinerated flesh for anyone to manage, especially if you’re not blessed with the company of family for the holiday, so one of my compatriots has done his bit for fusion cooking by demonstrating how to prepare a delicious Thanksgiving Dinner for One à l’Ecosse (Includes Dessert).
On a related note, I hear they’re frying turkeys tonight over in DC. Whether there’ll be fireworks accompanied by ritual consumption of flesh, we’ll have to wait and see, but we’ll probably liveblog it just in case.
Posted by YAFB on 11/22/11 at 10:57 AM • Permalink
Categories: I Don't Know Much About Art, But I Know What I Like • Food • Politics • Election '12 • Nutters • Skull Hampers • YouTubidity •
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