Today, I went in search of a turkey for Thankgiving. I am hesitant to begin with as I can never seem to cook a turkey perfectly. Perhaps it's an oven temperature thing.
Anyway,
I went to the boucher in Opio. I like the old man that owns the shop and it's just a very pretty butcher shop. It was his day off and I think the man that helped me was his son. He did not speak English...but I didn't want to speak English! He tried to get help from a girl that worked at a salon next door, but she shook her head and grinned. He was impatient.
I told him ..NO, I don't want to speak English, I can speak French. It's not like there was anyone else waiting for his attention. There was no one there. This is why I wanted the father. So we spoke in French.
He had 9 kilo turkey that is TOO big and has been dead awhile. He wrestled it out of the vitrine and slammed it down on the scales. 9 kilo...no, I need about 5 kilo...he made a call to ( I'm guessing) a distributer? a farm? and it was all not so clear, but then I started thinking...is the guy on the other side of the phone going to go out , seek out a turkey that looked about 5 kilo, out in the yard...and then shoot him or wring his nick...FOR ME!!!!! and my thinking expanded to...what if it's young, as it is smaller. I'm killing a young turkey. I had to stop myself from asking if they were going to murder
( tuer!) one for me! Would a turkey being living a much longer life if it wasn't for me and my selfish Thanksgiving?
I started feeling sick about it. I was already part way down this road though.....I managed to find out that it would not be free range...and thankfully, it would not have a head.
I decided to scrap the idea of getting it from this butcher..and will try again tomorrow.
Turkey in French is dinde and it is feminine....La dinde.
I am yearning for a butterball!...I am yearning to be many dimensions away from what actually happens before I buy a butterball turkey breast at Safeway.
What will happen?
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