Curses, John Kass! You broke my turkey tradition!

By now, reader, you're eating leftovers, deciding whether to keep, or chuck, your turkey carcass, and savoring the afterglow of a glorious turkey accomplishment--or plotting anew, already, to do better next year.

Another Thanksgiving come and gone.

As for me, I am cursing John Kass.

Among his many other roles and accomplishments, he styles himself a master animal-roaster.  He has a deceptively simple manner with turkey.  It involves a brine with some unlikely ingredients and a grill.

I tried his recipe, followed it to the letter.  And broke my at-least-15-year-long streak.

That streak was connected to my past; it had literary implications; it served as a beautiful metaphor for so much in my adult life.  This recipe has taken all that away from me, in addition to breaking what had become my own personal tradition.

My own tradition, that is, of terrible turkeys.

His recipe produced the most delicious turkey I ever ate, the closest thing to perfect that I have ever produced. That turkey was so far out of my typical range of turkey creation I hardly know what to do.

Except tell everyone how great this method is, and that they, too, can make a perfect turkey.

Some traditions aren't worth keeping.  Thanks, John Kass.

 

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