Meat...

When I was a kid, I used to love eating chicken. That is, until one night when I was done eating and started inspecting the bones. I had a wing which ultimately connected to the back and the spine. I sat there at the table examining the vertebrae... And I started to get a little nauseous. I felt a little too connected to the life that I had just consumed.

I've always had this love-hate relationship with meat. I like eating meat... when it's just meat - a food. It's the bones that really get me...

I was just preparing to put my first turkey in the oven. I rarely ever prepare any meat at home. I can't stand the consistency of raw meat. It's slimy. It's messy. I always feel like I have to wash my hands. This feeling is compounded because my wife and I generally feed our cats raw meat. I've managed to convince my wife that the prepared raw meat from the pet store is adequate...

So I was washing the turkey after letting it soak in brine overnight. I have a nice deep-well sink with a detachable faucet, so it's an easy operation. As I was turning the turkey and lifting the wings and legs, I started to feel that nausea return. The flesh was nicely pliable from the soak. The limbs moved - the wings spread. I could see the muscles of the bird flex under the plucked skin. I could really SEE the bird.

I had to quickly pat it dry. Hopefully, dry enough... I threw it into the roasting pan and started to baste with butter. I kind of felt like I was putting suntan lotion on a child. Not a good image...

So I grabbed the salt and pepper. After such a coating of butter, the salt and pepper hid the bird's skin nicely. I crammed my cubed butter, garlic, shallots, and fresh herbs inside. I reached around front and realized I'd left the giblet bag stuck in the neck... What the heck!

I tossed the thing in the oven and closed it. I proceeded to wash the blood from my hands (ok... there wasn't really any blood). But it did take a while to clean the counters and the sink - lots of soap and hot water... Hopefully by the time the oven beeps at me, what will be inside will be more like Thanksgiving Dinner than a great fowl with wings that flex and muscles that ripple.

I appeased myself by preparing the vegetables to be roasted later. Maybe I just have less appreciation for the life force of plants, but chopping vegetables seems almost contemplative...