’Tis the season to eat turkey. In honor of the holiday, and in deference to giving turkeys everywhere a voice of their own, C-VILLE’s resident turkey interpreter Nell Boeschenstein sat down with Tom “the Angry” Turkey for some heavy-hitting reporting, and to pluck Tom’s birdbrain for some sweet morsels of tender turkey wisdom. Needless to say, with the gallows awaiting, Tom wasn’t feeling too sunny. Yet, mood be damned: Tom still had plenty to say. An edited transcript of the interview—and Tom’s last words—is printed on the next page.
Nell Boeschenstein: How did the turkey become the Thanksgiving bird?
Tom Turkey: Ye olde turkey on ye olde Thanksgiving table harkens all the way back to ye olden days. Governor William Bradford, who helped found Plymouth Colony, organized the first Thanksgiving feast in 1621. Twenty years after the fact, Bradford recounted both the celebration and the first holiday-inspired turkey slaughter in his History of Plymouth Plantation. Behold:
“They begane now to gather in ye small harvest they had, and to fitte up their houses and dwellings against winter, being all well recovered in health & strenght, and had all things in good plenty; for as some were thus imployed in affairs abroad, others were excersised in fishing, aboute codd, & bass, & other fish, of which yey tooke good store, of which every family had their portion. All ye somer ther was no want. And now begane to come in store of foule, as winter approached, of which this place did abound when they came first (but afterward decreased by degrees). And besids water foule, ther was great store of wild Turkies, of which they tooke many, besids venison, &c. Besids, they had about a peck a meale a weeke to a person, or now since harvest, Indean corn to yt proportion. Which made many afterwards write so largly of their plenty hear to their freinds in England, which were not fained, but true reports.”
(Translation: Yeah, we ate turkey, and a lot of other stuff, too. We alsoe coodnt spel.)
Thus, the “eat turkey, be merry” tradition originated with Bradford’s text. The holiday itself, however, was not an official opening day for Hollywood releases until President Lincoln made it so in 1863.
Eagles, Ravens, Cardinals. If football and Thanks-giving are a natural pair, why not the Turkeys?
Not to get all self-loathing on you, but have you ever seen a turkey? Interacted with a turkey? Even caught a glimpse of a turkey on TV? If so, you would know that there is nothing about a turkey to inspire thoughts of fleet-footedness, fear, or alpha-maledom—all of which are qualities football teams aspire to conjure when they christen themselves.
That said, Virginia Tech apparently didn’t get the memo. Their HokieBird is derived from a turkey, which sucks for them for the following reasons: First, turkeys are hardly athletic. They’re so fat their wings can barely lift them half an inch off the ground. They’d definitely be picked last for a fifth-grade game of dodgeball. Second, they’re dumb as a box of rocks. While they don’t drown in the rain as rumor has it, when they get scared they all crowd together in a corner and the stupid animal at the bottom often suffocates. One can only hope for the sake of the species that Darwinian theory ensures that in each instance the bird that dies is the stupidest of the stupid flock.
As a side note, had Ben Franklin owned a sports team, it’s not unlikely that he would have dubbed them The Turkeys. Franklin famously argued for the national bird to be the turkey instead of the eagle in his hilariously titled essay “Turkey vs. Eagle, McCauley is my Beagle.”
I hear the President pardons two turkeys a year in a Rose Garden ceremony.
You heard right. Two luckier commercial turkeys than I will live to see out the end of their natural days. The tradition started for reasons unknown with President Truman and is still going strong. The birds are raised just like any other at a farm in West Virginia and under the direction of the National Turkey Federation.
A week or so before Thanksgiving, they’re brought to the Rose Garden and the President officially pardons them. Used to be the turkeys were then taken to the somewhat incongruously named Frying Pan Park in Fairfax, where they lived out the remainder of their days in peace. However, this year the turkeys will travel to Disneyland Resort and Theme Park where they will be the honorary grand marshals at Disneyland’s Thanksgiving Day Parade.
The public can also participate in the process by voting online on what to name the birds. Last year’s winners were christened Biscuits and Gravy, over other such appealing options as Gobble and Peck, Adams and Jefferson, and Patience and Fortitude.
Need one even mention the irony that even in the most forgiving of holiday spirits, it’s probably never crossed Bush’s mind to pardon an actual human being?
I was just wondering where in C’ville I can purchase a great fried turkey?
Know that saying, “money can’t buy everything”? Well, I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but here’s a case in point (i.e. money ain’t going to buy you no good fried turkey.) Think about it: You buy a fried turkey at some grease joint the day before, and by the time you get it home, it sleeps in the fridge overnight, you reheat it the next day and serve it on the holiday table, and, d’oh! It’s a little cold, a little rubbery and a little inedible.
Really, there’s only one answer to your question: Get your hands dirty. Buy the raw bird at El Gigante (Giant, for those not in the know) like all the other plebs, take it home, break out that apron your mom gave you, rev up the fryer and dunk the bird like a basketball.
Against my better judgment, a few suggestions as to where to purchase the fryer: Sam’s Club and Sears sell ‘em for $60 to $90. If you’re planning ahead, a little Internet savvy goes a long way, too. Google “turkey fryer” and there are deals aplenty to be had.
I want my mom to come down from NYC. Too long of a drive for her. Amtrak is booked solid. Don’t want to send dear ol’ Mom on the Greyhound. Are there any other options?
I beg to differ on the “Amtrak booked solid” front: According to my sources, there is one seat left on the 3am train out of Penn Station on November 23. However, if she refuses to get her lazy ass out of bed, I’m here to serve.
First, peep craigslist.com for a rideshare. Your mom’s future carpool partner will inevitably turn out to be some Charlottes-ville-native-turned-Williamsburg-hipster complete with ironic mullet and faded Devo t-shirt, but hey, it’s free. Plus, the conversations that would result from such a road trip pairing would be well worth what Mom might suffer in transit.
Second, hitch. She’s got a thumb. Tell her to use it or lose it, honey.
Third, fly. Some say Icarus was just unlucky; I say he was just a stupid bastard who didn’t know how to “do the chicken.” Of course, airplanes are always an option and not all booked as of right now. Hint: It’s cheaper out of Newark and into Richmond.
Honestly, though, I hope you’ve solved this problem on your own instead of waiting for 11th hour advice from a turkey.
After many years of cooking dinner I feel stuck on the same old menu. Turkey and cornbread are unchangeable; however, I would like some ideas for new accompaniments. Our tradition is bourbon sweet potatoes, green beans or broccoli, Waldorf salad, cranberry orange relish, rolls, pumpkin pie and birthday cake. Also, my daughter and I got up early last year and had a short yoga practice. We found this wonderfully calming and fortifying for the work ahead. Just a hint for the tired cook.
Exsqueeze me? Baking powder? What kind of idiot serves birthday cake on Thanksgiving?! And who’s birthday are you celebrating anyway? Captain John “I understand Indians” Smith? Poco “I understand white men” hontas? I think you need to get your celebrations straight and that means ixnay on the birthday cake, mmmkay?
Repeat after me: Pies. Pecan, apple, sweet potato, rhubarb. Thanksgiving is all about the pies. Meditate that when you yogacize Thanksgiving morning.
For more pie-related oral exercises, also see Sally, When Harry Met.
Turducken—Que es?
More bang for the duck, that’s what. Birds of a feather cooking together. Killing three birds with one stove.
In short, a turducken is a deboned chicken stuffed inside a deboned duck. Then, that ducken is stuffed inside a deboned turkey. The net result, turducken, lands three times the bird flu and three times the fun, folks.
Lore has it that turduckens are a Southern thang, cooked up by some crazy Cajun who liked him some serious white meat. Yanks can mail order the delicacy, though, at www.cajungrocer.com. Now that’s poultry in motion!
If you want to catch turducken in action, famously fat football announcer John Madden gorges on one on air every Thanksgiving. It’s unclear whether this tradition is a public-service announcement or product placement.
Which movies can I escape to this Thanksgiving weekend?
Movies are the great escape from houses where endless conversations spawn from the classic themes of “how Granny’s doing” or whether Cousin Willie got that sweet Cadillac. So, it’s no wonder the masses flock to the multiplex after shoveling in a ten-pound meal. Unfortunately, from the looks of it, the weekend’s offerings are designed to get you on an early exercise regime that has you walking out of the theater soon after you walk in.
A taste of the slimming pickings opening in Charlottesville this weekend:
Just Friends, in which a guy who was fat in high school returns, svelte and handsome, to his hometown and woos his first love. This continues that fine Hollywood tradition of, when a roll calls for a fat person, dressing a stick figure in a fat suit and calling him “fat” instead of just hiring a fat actor desperate for work and thus saving the makeup artists a lot of trouble.
Yours, Mine & Ours in which both Dennis Quaid and Rene Russo have 18 kids between them, but somehow they still find the time and sex drive to fall in love with each other. One word: Whatever.
In the Mix, in which pop star Usher tries to convince us he’s a DJ who somehow gets stuck bodyguarding a mob princess. Starring the alleged sex addict’s washboard abs, no doubt.
All’s not lost, though. If you’re feeling pretentious, The Libertine, about a 17th-century poet and starring Johnny Depp is sure to appeal to two distinct, and populous, demographics: English Ph.D. students and Depp groupies. Trouble is, it’s only opening in limited release—and Charlottesville might be a little too limited, if you catch my drift. Rent, of course, is the feel-bad movie of the year. Transvestites! AIDS! Singing and dancing! Kill me. And last but not least, you can’t go wrong with Pride and Prejudice, the latest incarnation of which stars Keira “How’s My Hair?” Knightley and also opens this weekend.
How many pounds of your kin’s flesh will Americans eat on Thanksgiving? What about the rest of the year?
According to the U.S. Department of Agriculture, our nation’s fatties will gather round the holiday table, say a prayer for their cholesterol and proceed to consume—no, inhale—an estimated 45 million, or 675 million pounds, of turkey flesh. That’s 15 percent of our nation’s annual turkey production. At least I’m not alone…
Where can I volunteer on Thanksgiving?
Feeling a little sheepish, are we, for the blatant excesses of Thanksgiving bounty? No way to cure a little guilt than with some well-placed volunteering. Helping the less fortunate doesn’t take long—only an hour or two—and the good karma ensures at least one guilt-free holiday season.
The Salvation Army distributes meals on Thanksgiving Day and the man with the plan is Jim Hart. You can reach him at 295-4058. Another place to check in with is the United Way. They can point you in the direction of organizations in need of holiday volunteers.
I contacted the United Way because, though my attitude might be the stuff of tar and feathers, my hard turkey heart is in the right place. The United Way recommended a perusal of www.1-800-volunteer.org. All you got to do is type in your zip code and up pop 94 local organizations from the Rivanna Trails Association to the HIV/AIDS Services Group to the Virginia Discovery Museum just begging for some of that free time you would have otherwise spent staring at the TV and coming up with insulting nicknames for Matt Lauer.
Being a “Bingo Caller,” “Friendly Visitor” or “Buddy” for a couple of hours might not make Page Six, but that Big Intelligent Designer in the sky? He’ll be sending Santa Claus your contact info.
Gourds—aside from decorative purposes, are they or are they not the most useless plants in the universe?
There’s no question that gourds are among the most decorative of the autumn vegetables. Who dares decorate a table with brussel sprouts?
But gourds aren’t just decorative, they are also, like a good man, useful around the house. Just ask gourd enthusiast Jeanie Dickson. Go to www.gourdsbyjeanie.com and behold gourds as Christmas tree ornaments, gourds as wall sconces, gourds as birdhouses and gourds as coffee tables.
Lest Jeanie can’t convince you of the profound importance of gourds, allow the American Gourd Society to exercise its powers of persuasion at www.american gourdsociety.com. While there is nary a peep on the site about how one might prepare a gourd to eat, there is advice aplenty on what judges are looking for in a cutthroat gourd competition.
For example, “Accessories are used to assist and enhance your gourd entry, not detract from it.” So, if you’re going to go designer, do your gourd a favor and make sure her handbag has a tastefully sized logo, and doesn’t scream “Chanel” too loudly.
Should I worry about bird flu this Thanksgiving?
The real question is: Should anyone worry about bird flu, ever? If you’re going to get it, you’re going to get it. Doesn’t matter how many New York Times articles you read that scare the bejeezus out of you, there’s really no sense in getting your feathers all in a ruffle. So you eat bird and get bird flu. What’s the worst that could happen? You die? Well, tough shit. Been there, done that. You’re clucking for sympathy with the wrong bird, sweetheart.
What’s your favorite side dish?
(For this question Tom adopted the persona of numerous characters and acted out each one—including stage directions and Narrator—NB)
A play in one scene.
The stage is set up to indicate a turkey barn. Turkeys are piled up to the ceiling, each in a small wire cage. Lots of gobbling ensues from the chorus turkeys as Farmer Dan enters stage left carrying a bucket and approaches Tom the Turkey’s cage, which is downstage center.
Farmer Dan: I have a special breakfast for you this morning, Tom! (Farmer Dan tilts the bucket toward Tom so Tom can see what’s inside.) These aren’t your ordinary slops and grains, my fine, feathered friend.
Tom: Gobblebobblescoregobblegobble.
Farmer Dan: And how would you like that served? With some rotting compost? Some dead animal parts?
Narrator rushes in from stage left holding the script above his head and shaking it furiously. Sound effects sound a record scratching to a stop
Narrator: Hold it right there, Farmer Dan! You’ve veered from the script! Turkeys don’t have side dishes served with their slops!
Farmer Dan and the Narrator both freeze. Tom turns to the audience and asks
Tom: Next question, please?
(Note from the playwright: Green bean casserole rocks my world.)
What’s up with the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade?
There are many questions starting with “why” that the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade raises. For example, “Why Macy’s?” “Why Thanksgiving?” and “Why a parade?” The answer to all of these questions appears to be, “Why not?”
In 1924, the employees at Macy’s Department Store decided it would be fun to kick off the holiday season with a parade because, because, because, because, because…because of the wonderful things a parade does…
Like taking giant, flying, inflated Elmos, Garfields and Mickey Mouses for a stroll down Central Park West. Seems New Yorkers, who the rest of the year proclaim their cultural and intellectual superiority over the rest of the country, think this idea is rad. Two and a half million people line the streets of the Big Apple to take in the scene, and another 44 million fans with a weakness for Disney characters watch the festivities on television.
How much you wanna bet that the writers of Ghostbusters were looking for a way to wrap things up as they sat watching the Macy’s parade one year. As a huge, inflated float with crazy-ass cartoon eyes approached them, they looked at each other and screamed, “Eureka!”
The National Dog Show: Why? And why on Thanksgiving?
Careful with your facts, there, Fido. NBC may televise “all the excitement” of the National Dog Show on Thanksgiving, but kindly allow me to burst that bubble and assure you that the “excitement” is well over by the time Thanksgiving rolls around. The dog show happens and the winners are crowned in mid-November.
As to “Why?”, that’s simple. Life is competition, yo. Just ask Darwin. And because dogs aren’t out in the wild to perfect the species on their own anymore, it’s our responsibility as humans to dress up in tuxedos or sequined dresses and do it for them.
As for the “Why on Thanksgiving?” part, no one seems to know for sure why this important event is broadcast on this particular day, but let’s hazard a few guesses:
a) NBC has decided that there’s really no use in competing with Thanksgiving Day football programming and, to put it bluntly, is simply looking for something, anything, to fill airtime. A dog show is cheap and it takes all day. Animal Planet employs this tactic on Superbowl Sunday when they air their low-budget masterpiece, “Puppybowl,” a home video of puppies chasing a fake football around a fake football field.
b) The dog show covers a distinctly different demographic than football. It’s fairly certain that people who hate watching football may be at least slightly less opposed to picking up hair-styling tips from poodles.
c) Thanksgiving is a family holiday. What could be more wholesome programming than a dog show? What, you were hoping for a Hallmark Hall of Fame production of Sarah, Plain and Tall?
In memoriam, Tom “The Angry” Turkey, March 10, 2005-November 24, 2005
Bird is not the word
T-Day the compassionate way
For most families, the highlight of Thanksgiving dinner is a delicious golden brown, oven-roasted turkey. But for those who celebrate Thanksgiving “the compassionate way” (that is, meat-free), the thought of tearing into the flesh of a poor, defenseless bird is unsettling to say the least. That may explain why many are turning to tofurky as an alternative to this traditional Thanks-giving fare.
Besides the fact that serving to-furky is totally in vogue and reflects that you’re a conscientious, animal-friendly hipster (A-list celebrities like Alicia Silverstone and Kim Basinger swear by it), tofurky is also appealing because it can be prepared just about any way you want. It can be served glazed or barbecued, or as a stew or chili. And yes, it can even be roasted like a Butterball. For ideas on how to prepare a tofurky for this special day and for all kinds of cool tofurky recipes, visit the Vegetarian Resource Group online at www.vrg.org or visit Compassionate Cooks at www.com passionatecooks.com.
If a turkey-free Thanksgiving sounds great, and you’re really itching to take your compassion to a higher level, Farm Sanctuary has your solution. A turkey shelter with locations on the East and West coasts, Farm Sanctuary rescues hundreds of turkeys from slaughter every year. Through its Adopt-A-Turkey program, animal lovers can sponsor a turkey for just 20 bucks. (It’s not exactly sponsoring a starving child in Darfour, but it’s a step in the right direction).
Adopters receive a color photo of their feathered friend and their very own adoption certificate. Imagine a framed photo of your adopted friend in the center of your Thanksgiving table—what a conversation-starter! Go to www.adoptaturkey.com to learn how you can save a turkey—not eat one—this Thanksgiving.—Joyce Carman