While my family may pretend to be open-minded about meat, like most people who say “I love everything!” I’m finding out just what they’re made of. We’re hosting Thanksgiving in Seattle this year while Mom traipses off to the see the camel market in Pushkar Mela. While I was mulling over what to serve, Atticus agreed with me: turkey is not only uninteresting, it isn’t even very good.
After all, what other meat can you name that when absolutely perfectly brined and dried and flipped and basted and rested and carved is described in inglorious terms as “not dry”? Right, chicken breasts. I think you just made my point for me. I strongly believe that when people proclaim the Thanksgiving dinner their favorite meal they are really talking about stuffing. Stuffing is delicious. But food experts say that cooking stuffing inside a bird is just a salmonella party waiting to happen, so losing the turkey won’t keep you from the good parts. Romeo then countered his brother. Who likes turkey? Evidently he does (when and where he’s eating all this turkey, I don’t know). I’ll admit, unlike, say, durian or Malaysian shrimp paste, turkey isn’t going to put you off. But is that really the high bar for a holiday meal? We should treat food with the same consideration we do people—if they don’t elicit strong opinions (either way) than they’re probably not the person you want to talk to at the cocktail party.
And so I suggested goat. A whole goat, marinated in a Greek fashion then roasted outside in my Caja China. I’ve never done one before and it seemed like just the time to try it. After all, a whole dressed goat weighs in at only around 30 pounds, and a large turkey could be over 20, so pound for pound it seemed fairly equivalent. And roasting outside, largely untended, would free up the ovens for sides! My brother’s response: he would come prepared to deep-fry a turkey.