Through the Eyes of a Delivery Goddess |
|
|
I'll bet you're wondering how a turkey story can relate to the ongoing subject matters within the "Curbside Etiquette" series. Originally, I thought my turkey story really had no relevance, until this morning while I was delivering today's seven pounds of advertisements for tomorrow's Black Friday ... and it hit me... First, let me say I am NOT kidding when I tell you that our Post Gazettes weighed 7 pounds each. The Tribune Reviews were about half of that, each. About four years ago, my mother's birthday fell on Thanksgiving, so Bob thought we ought to allow her a break and NOT cook for a change. I'd cook and invite my parents and my Grandmother and her best friend, who has been included as our own flesh and blood for years. Bob and my mother are the only Turkey fans, so I planned on a ham for the rest of us. I was proud of myself, Domestic Dunce that I am ... I made home-made stuffing ahead of time, and sweet potatoe casserole ahead of time - I had a refrigerator full of stuff that could be shoved into the oven quickly on Thanksgiving morning. I am not usually that efficient. Next, let me give you a brief overview of a typical Thanksgiving newspaper delivery. I'm not sure how it is in other cities, but I'd guess it's very similar. First, the union gets paid double time, so there's no doubt in my mind that there is some clock-milking going on down at the presses, which is the icing on the cake for the day. Tuesday, two sections of comics stuffed with glossy advertisements arrive at the depot, so after we deliver our Tuesday papers, we usually return to the depot and stuff together as many comics as possible, making one less section to handle on Thursday morning. Whatever we don't finish on Tuesday, we return to finish on Wednesday morning. This was our first year having two different papers to deliver. The Trib comics arrived Wednesday and were put out on our tables for Thursday. When we arrived this morning, The front pages for the Trib finally showed up around 3am, allowing us to put the Tribs together, and one of the other two main sections of the Post Gazette arrived shortly there after. The Truck had to make a trip back to the press warehouse downtown to get the front pages of the PG. Once our Tribs were assembled and loaded into our vehicles, we were able to put the comics (doubled comics) into the classified sections and stack them on our tables. Then ... the wait begins. It's anybody's guess just how late the front pages will actually arrive. Today, it was nearly 5am, and each front page required pealing a sticker from a 7" square sheet of paper and sticking to the front page before delivery - another addition to lengthen our precious delivery time. For this morning, I'd venture to guess that most folks finished up around 9:00 - 9:30am. I was a bit later; I had a few straggling New York Times to deliver, since I skipped them ealier to go to the Post Gazette warehouse and tackle that mess instead. As I remember it, the year I cooked lunch for my family, I think the front pages came a bit earlier than 5:00am. I think it was more like 3:30am. The papers that year were close to being as big as they were this morning - six or seven pounds of glossy Black Friday ads and a few headlines. As soon as I got my truck loaded, I ran home and tossed everything into the oven except the ham and sweet potatoes. Those would become stove-top items later. I ran back out and into my route to begin the gruelling task of squeezing an extremely inflated paper into a thin-walled, plastic, cylindrical bag, four hundred or so times over. Bob delivers way more than that, so I can't complain, really. Half the battle is squeezing the paper tightly enough to get it into the bag without ripping the sides of the bag. I wish I could remember what the weather was that day - rain is the absolute worst on an easy day, much less a heavy day like Thanksgiving, but I just can't say for sure what the weather was. Our house is about three or four miles from the closest boundary of my Post Gazette route; many folks live much further away from their routes and would not have the luxury of running home like I did. I delivered for about an hour, then went home and checked on everything. I delivered another hour, and went home to check on everything. I decided everything was cool, so I didn't go home again until I was done with my route. This was my very first (and likely, last) turkey. I mean, I've cooked those turkey "roasts" before, and that's been fine, and will probably be what I'll cook in the future, if the need arises again. I read the instructions on the outside of the turkey package, and it mentioned removing the bag of giblets, bag of gravy and the neck from the breast cavity before cooking. I ran the bird under water as instructed, and began trying to find the afforementioned bags of goodies (for the dogs, of course). I found the two bags, no problem. I could not find the neck. I re-read the instructions... "remove the neck before cooking". I turned the turkey up, then down, then shook it. NOthing came out. I reached my hand the whole way through the hollowed out cavity, but found no obstructions. I think I remember the wings being pinned down, so I unpinned those and moved them around - but still, no neck. I re-read the directions, "Remove the neck before cooking". Hmmm; perhaps this means I have to take a knife and CUT the neck out. Even though I was fairly sure it was the wrong side of the bird, I started to cut away at what MUST be the neck ... but I couldn't cut through the bones. I thought, "Surely, the neck is already cut, and in here somwhere, but... I can't find it." I got a flashlight and shined inside. (Keep in mind, I SHOULD be out delivering papers during this ordeal, but it was my mom's birthday, and doggone it, she wasn't going to cook this year.) The cavity was empty. In one last ditch effort to make sure there really was no neck in my turkey, I picked up the turkey by the wings and stretched them out to each side, which held the body of the bird verticle while I twisted the body, and made the wings flap. Nothing came out. I was convinced I had a neckless bird, so I set it in a shallow pan ( the only one I had ), then picked up the pan to move it to the counter and spread foil over my master piece. As I moved the turkey from the sink to the counter, the neck slid out and onto the floor. I picked it up and tossed it into the sink while muttering a few choice words. Now that I had a chance to actually SEE the neck, there would have been no mistaking it for any other part ... like, it was not included in the giblets bag, nor was it still attached between the two breast areas where I had been trying to cut earlier. I shoved it all in the oven and left. Once home from the route, I cleaned up the kitchen and got the sweet potatoes on the stove. I set the table, made iced tea, and ... whatever else I needed to do to get ready for my wonderful meal. My parents arrived, then my grandmother and friend arrived... everyone stayed out of my way in the livingroom. Finally, at 1:30, I called everyone to the table. There was no ham. I had forgotten the ham. Bob and My mother were fine, but the rest of us choked down lousy, dry turkey and tried to enjoy it. Everything else was good, but when everyone left, I think I collapsed. Succeeding years found my mother feeling badly for us, and insisting on cooking at her house so we can just work, relax for an hour, then drive up there and eat stress-free. And that's how turkey fits into the Curbside Etiquette series! |