Conversations with Daughters
#3 — The literal girl, day before Game Day (aka Thanksgiving)
My middle girl, Mia, will tell you herself that she’s a devout meat-a-vore. When she was about 2 years old, my Mom discovered that you could get her to eat just about anything by telling her it was either a) ham, or b) a meatball.
Two years ago on Thanksgiving, she wanted to know when “her” turkey was going to be ready. I told her not for hours, since it takes a long time to cook.
As the time ticked down, she circled the kitchen in the desperation and hunger that only a vulture, or a 4-year-old can know, until finally she asked with pure sincerity —
“What is everyone else going to eat?”
Yes, she saw the size of the turkey.
Last year was much of the same. I thought she might be a little freaked out when she saw me preparing such a large bird. Not so much. Her reaction was more like what you’d expect from a ravenous lioness who’s happily stumbled across a field of grazing gazelle.
At dinner she may have managed a mouthful of potato, and perhaps a nibble of a roll, but it was all about the turkey for her. No gravy even, just the bird. White meat only. Not much, mind you. Despite her claims, the kid eats like…well, a bird. Ahem.
This year Mia’s been trying to sort out in her little brain what exactly a turkey is. When the turkey appeared in the fridge on Sunday, I got the —
“But what kind of chicken is it?”
After telling her it wasn’t a chicken at all, I tried to go with the ‘it’s like a chicken’s cousin’ explanation, but seeing as how she has no cousins that wasn’t much help.
Last week we had a nice walk with just the two of us, and I showed her the spot on our road where I’d seen wild turkeys just a few days prior.
“Good thing I wasn’t here. I’d chase those turkeys down with a knife so I could eat them all!”
No, I don’t think she was joking.
Which brings us to today. The day before Game Day. I asked her if she wanted to help with the turkey prep this year and she was quite enthusiastic. A bit less excited when I pulled the 22 lb. bird out of the fridge, claiming it was small.
She watched me dig out the cavity, helped me loosen the skin for the brine, and I explained the whole process. I think her favorite part was smashing the herbs with the mortar & pestle. At her request we checked out the organs and I geeked out a bit with my recently acquired knowledge from anatomy class. She was not grossed out in the slightest.
This girl is going to be my junior chef.
Me: What should we name the turkey?
Mia: Rebecca?
Me: Rebecca it is. Does anyone else get to eat Rebecca besides you tomorrow?
Mia [evil grins]: No way!
I love this girl.
Happy Thanksgiving to all those who celebrate. Hope you get to eat some of whatever makes your tummy happy.
