By Peggy McManus December 2024
Until Kelly brought it up last month, I had mentally blocked the sad tale of Dad’s pet turkey, Beaky. If I hadn’t, turkey would have been ruined for me, just like venison was after I saw the Disney movie, Bambi. Also, Beaky is a pretty disgusting name for a turkey. Leave it to Dad…
I admit, I can get grossed out pretty easily. I even quit going to the county fair years ago because I hated seeing the live turkeys. There wasn’t enough time between the fair and the holidays for me to forget how downright ugly they are. Especially around the “beaky”. Bleh.
When I was growing up, Dad’s mom always came to our house for Christmas dinner. I’ve never known anyone who could eat as slowly as that lady. We weren’t allowed to leave the table until everyone was finished with their meal either. Three hours in, Grandma would finally be down to her last bite. My jaw would be clenched and my eyes bulging in anticipation of her taking that final forkful.
“Piggly, pass me those mashed potatoes and the gravy boat, please. Oh, why not, hand me another roll and the butter too,” Grandma would happily say.
At this point Mom liked to flash me a look that clearly implied, “If you run screaming from the table right now, you’re grounded for a week.”
“Sure Grandma,” I said through gritted teeth. “Here you go.”
During those endless meals, Dad and Grandma loved telling stories, reminiscing and laughing. Usually I did not see what was so hilarious, but as my boredom intensified, so did my hysteria, and I would eventually explode in maniacal laughter. Unfortunately, this would only encourage them to tell more stories.
I think one of the reasons Grandma dragged those dinners out so long was that she did not get very good food in the nursing home. Both Dad and my aunt, the Troll, made a point to bring her homemade goodies on their weekly visits, but the rest of the meals she had were bland at best.
One Christmas, Dad made the drive to the north Idaho nursing home to pick up Grandma for dinner. She wasn’t quite ready when he arrived so he took a seat to wait for her and happened to notice a box of fried chicken sitting on top of her mini fridge.
“Mom, where’d you get the chicken?” Dad asked.
“Oh, your sister dropped that by,” Grandma replied and disappeared into the bathroom to freshen her lipstick.
Dad couldn’t resist and picked up a plump drumstick. Although he’d not likely admit it to the Troll, he knew her cooking was top notch and she was well known for her culinary skills, especially when it came to fried chicken.
Grandma was soon ready to go. She buttoned up her coat and picked up her purse just as Dad finished a drumstick.
“Toss that chicken in the trash for housekeeping to pick up while we’re gone,” Grandma said.
“Okay, if you’re sure you’re done with it,” Dad said.
“Oh, I’m done with it alright,” Grandma said. “It’s been sitting there for two weeks!”
I don’t recall that Dad had any unfortunate backlash from eating that old chicken leg. I think he had a strong constitution after so many years of eating Whatchagot Stew.
During the endless Christmas dinners with Grandma, I had plenty of time to study her and wonder what it was like to be 86 years old. One day I came out and asked her.
“Well, I feel like I’m still 25 in my mind. Only the body gets old and falls apart,” she said with a touch of sadness in her voice.
I was flabbergasted by her answer. How could this be? I had imagined that as youth faded, wisdom grew and you stopped caring about the piddly things 25 year olds care about.
I never forgot her answer and now I’m finally to an age where I can tell you from experience, it’s true. Next time I’ll go into more detail about getting old and falling apart, although these days I think they call it “aging gracefully”. Ha! What a joke.
Anyway, Mom was a fantastic cook and I have included her exact holiday menu in the cookbook so you can make it for yourself. I guarantee you’ll get rave reviews if you do.
There’s only one recipe that I suggest you change. I do not include minced giblets in the stuffing. Why ruin perfectly good stuffing? Also, don’t cook the stuffing inside the bird. For one thing it’s disrespectful to Beaky, I mean the turkey, and two, they now say stuffing isn’t safe to eat when cooked that way. Who knew? I never got sick from eating stuffing cooked inside the bird, but I guess years of eating Whatchagot Stew has built up my constitution.
Happy Holidays!
McManus Quote of the Month
As a special holiday treat, we invite you to listen to one of Pat's most loved stories, "My First Deer and Welcome to It," read by Lauren Ball on YouTube.
Recipe of the Month
Bun's traditional holiday menu, complete with all of the delicious recipes she made every Thanksgiving and Christmas, is now available in Bun's Cookbook. Click Here
From the McManus Archives
One of these days I'll write about my own memories of McManus Christmas trees. For now I'll just say that, to this day, I hate tinsel and strung popcorn.
Christmas Trees, By Pat McManus December 2013
コメント