Ya Win Some, Ya Lose Some...........

Dale Earnhardt said "Ya win some, ya lose some and ya wreck some." Of course, he was talking about NASCAR racing, but I'm talking turkey. For at least thirty years, I've been roasting colossal birds for the holidays. Getting the biggest turkey I could find has always been an ego thing with me. This year it was twenty three pounds. Now I know some of you are going to say "Well, that's not so big! My frail, ancient grandmother cooked a forty pounder!" But bear in mind that we only had eight people eating my dinosaur. This was our first Thanksgiving without either of my children home which was a distressing element for me; I found myself quickly teary over not too much for days prior. So I had to keep myself really busy and cooking a ridiculously large turkey seemed just the thing. I'm a reasonably good cook. Not much in the kitchen intimidates me. James Beard, the famous chef said "The only thing that will make a souffle fall is if it knows you are afraid of it." That is the attitude I employ in all things culinary. The cooking triumvirate which instills terror in the hearts of the novice - pie crust, rice or gravy, come easily to me. But every decade or so, my confidence takes a nap, or I do, while I should be paying attention to the cooking. This was the year for things to go to hell in the kitchen. My race car skidded off the tracks and crashed. Had I made a souffle, it would not have merely fallen but would have blown up! Though the turkey was delicious, it was the ugliest bird I've ever cooked in  my life! It fell off the bone. I don't mean just tender, but literally, fell away from the bone such that it was impossible to carve. All that could be done was to artfully arrange hunks and pieces in a heap on a platter.  Then, there was the gravy. Eventually. The meal was served an hour later than I had told guests to arrive. Additionally, I had lied to at least one guest having said that dinner would be served an hour earlier than I actually intended to serve because that person NEVER gets here on time. The gravy would not thicken no matter what I did to it. I added additional roux, then just plain flour. Then I resorted to corn starch. I had to plead to my new best friend Arrowstarch a second time, too. I had such a rolling boil going on the stove that my face has swollen from a protracted gravy facial! I was thankful that there were several meals worth of just appetizers and that the wine was flowing like Niagara. By the time I served, everyone was so hungry and drunk that I could have served unadorned Spam and preserved my image as a kitchen goddess. I noticed that the leg of one of my good dining room chairs had been gnawed. Initially, I blamed one of my dogs but realized it was probably a guest. Oh well, there is always next year and another race. As Dale said, "Ya win some, ya lose some and ya wreck some."

This Sharp-shinned Hawk glowered from a tree branch on Thanksgiving Day. It was hunting birds at my feeders.

"When is that turkey going to be done, anyway?????"

                                                                                     

Ben Franklin's Dilemma

On Friday, I went to the dump in Maine's capital city, Augusta. The citizens of Augusta also refer to what I call "the dump," as The Land Fill. Some of them are a little touchy about this, too. It seems to be a class issue. Actual garbage is deposited there in a giant heap. To me, that makes it a dump, not some gussied up, sanitized, less objectionable facility. All day, a man drives a huge bulldozer with crushing tracks to pack the stuff down. In the winter, the garbage pile sits in the middle of a pristine snow field. There isn't any stench and it's quite colorful. I live fifty miles from there, so I don't pay taxes to the city of Augusta. So, I'm not authorized to leave anything. I went there to see birds. Birds? BIRDS???? Yes. Gossip in the birding community had it that one could see as many as a dozen Bald eagles at a time at the dump. I saw eight. It was an even split between juveniles and fully balded adults. Eagles are resourceful about food. They hunt, fish, scavenge carrion and pick the dump. I noticed that an eagle's talons are sized just right to perfectly clutch a beer can. I wonder if this is evolutionary, too. I didn't see them drink beer, just snatch the cans and go. Also at the dump were European Starlings, Black-backed Gulls and Herring Gulls in abundance. There may well have been other species of gulls, but I'm not good a gull identification. Every once in a while, the bulldozer operator would let off a fire cracker to send the birds flying away from any vehicles dropping off trash. When the birds take flight, they also 'drop off.' There were 10 wild turkeys, too. The turkeys were feeding on garbage. I will never feel the same about 'free range' fowl ever again. Give me a good poultry factory produced bird that's been shot full of hormones and antibiotics. I'll know just what I'm dealing with; not some wanderer that's been filling up on rotten cheese and Pampers. Ben Franklin proposed that the Wild Turkey be our national mascot. Not the Bald Eagle. The turkey, though prevalent and an important food source for the pilgrims, just wasn't elegant nor fierce enough for our founding fathers' tastes. I can tell you that had the founding fathers seen them side by side dining at the dump, it would have been a harder choice to make, a dilemma for Ben Franklin, as it were. And no matter if the place is called the dump or The Transfer Station, it's one of the great equalizers, a factor that Ben and the founding fathers would have appreciated.