Bubba's Tradition

My Bubba is a fanatic about our Thanksgiving turkey.  He starts talking about it right after Halloween..."what size turkey should we get - 20, 25 pounds?", "where are we going to get the turkey this year?", "Babe, have you gotten the turkey, yet?"  Then, once we have secured the bird, we always have to start with a name.  Our turkey has been named everything from the ever boring and predictable "Tom" to "Steve" to "Fred" and even "Thumbelina" (she was the year that Bubba was deployed and I valiantly attempted to roast a small turkey breast).  After we bond with the turkey and call it by its name for the days that it sits in the refrigerator thawing, Bubba wakes up on Thanksgiving morning to start his ritual.  

First, he dons his chef's hat.  

Then, he lovingly and gently bathes the turkey in the sink, taking great care to remove the innards (I don't know what they are really called - I usually stay away from the icky parts).  He then, finishes the rest of the preparations which I am usually not invited to attend.  Sometimes, BoyBoy is allowed, but usually Bubba has to be alone with his bird.  

Once the bird is in the oven, no one...and I mean NO ONE is allowed to open the oven except him.  Don't want to upset the intricate balance of temperature and humidity!  Of course, we have to do the back plan so that all the dishes come out of the oven at the same time and the bird has time to rest before carving.  It is all very carefully orchestrated.

I love how he takes it so seriously.  He is genuinely devastated when his turkey doesn't turn out perfect (which, for the record, has only happened once - 24lb Theodore).  He is like a proud father when it is flavorful and juicy.  He loves the smell and flavor and feeling of Thanksgiving.  And his enthusiasm is contagious.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!