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Nov. 27th, 2008
(no subject)
Nov. 27th, 2008 10:59 amWhat the heck are you supposed to do with giblets, anyway? "Gibble them" is not an acceptable answer.
Thanksgiving is the time of the year where I feel most conflicted about the eating of an animal, mostly because dealing with a turkey body (and the always-squicky bag o' giblets) is a stark reminder that what I'm eating was once running around happily living its life. In fact I see wild turkeys on a near-daily basis in the woods around my home and it makes me insanely happy every time I see them. I've even given some of them nicknames, like poor Lonely Joe who is always by himself (well, herself, but she looks like a Joe.) I mean, sure I eat meat all the time, but a burger does not look anything at all like a cow, I don't tend to cook whole chickens, and chicken breasts are sufficiently removed in format from a chicken that it's not quite so in-your-face what it is. That big turkey body, though... my late grandmother always referred to the turkey as "the carcass", even before any of us had sat down to pick at its poor bones at the dinner table.
That all said, turkey is my absolute ever favorite food. I look forward to no meal all year nearly so much as that big golden-brown turkey, smothered with unhealthy quantities of gravy, and barricaded onto my plate with an impenetrable wall of potatoes. I'd make a crappy vegetarian, between frankly loving the taste of meat and having food sensitivities or outright allergies to a number of vegetables, but sometimes I still wish I had the will to find a way. Not today, though, not once the bird is safely in the oven and out of sight of my conscience, and by the time I see it again I'll have been smelling wonderful cooking-turkey smells long enough to have dulled anything except eager anticipation.
But still, what the heck do I *do* with those damned giblets?
Thanksgiving is the time of the year where I feel most conflicted about the eating of an animal, mostly because dealing with a turkey body (and the always-squicky bag o' giblets) is a stark reminder that what I'm eating was once running around happily living its life. In fact I see wild turkeys on a near-daily basis in the woods around my home and it makes me insanely happy every time I see them. I've even given some of them nicknames, like poor Lonely Joe who is always by himself (well, herself, but she looks like a Joe.) I mean, sure I eat meat all the time, but a burger does not look anything at all like a cow, I don't tend to cook whole chickens, and chicken breasts are sufficiently removed in format from a chicken that it's not quite so in-your-face what it is. That big turkey body, though... my late grandmother always referred to the turkey as "the carcass", even before any of us had sat down to pick at its poor bones at the dinner table.
That all said, turkey is my absolute ever favorite food. I look forward to no meal all year nearly so much as that big golden-brown turkey, smothered with unhealthy quantities of gravy, and barricaded onto my plate with an impenetrable wall of potatoes. I'd make a crappy vegetarian, between frankly loving the taste of meat and having food sensitivities or outright allergies to a number of vegetables, but sometimes I still wish I had the will to find a way. Not today, though, not once the bird is safely in the oven and out of sight of my conscience, and by the time I see it again I'll have been smelling wonderful cooking-turkey smells long enough to have dulled anything except eager anticipation.
But still, what the heck do I *do* with those damned giblets?
(no subject)
Nov. 27th, 2008 01:45 pmAnd the giblet winner is.... the dog! Enjoy, you big lovable ball of fluff.
