Turkey tale!

For some reason, today I thought of the Thanksgiving day in the home when I was 14. The matron told me and Mindy that we were going to help with the Thanksgiving dinner that year. I was kind of excited, but had no clue as to what to do, so I decided that I would ask lots of questions and try to make as little trouble as possible. The day before Thanksgiving, Mindy and I and some of the other girls, along with Mrs. T got up early to start making desserts. Remember now, that we were in the deep South, and pie was the backbone of Thanksgiving dessert. We made a list of the pies we would make. Lemon merengue, chocolate merengue, coconut, sweet potato, pecan and of course, pumpkin. The reason that we were to make so many is that we were going to have members of the Home administration dining with us. In addition to the pies, we made a prune cake, crumb cake, and apple crisp. All day we peeled apples, whipped egg whites, cooked pie fillings, shelled pecans, peeled sweet potatoes, soaked prunes rolled pie crusts, (made with lard of course) and washed and washed bowls and utinsels over and over. I became a true Southern woman that day, I learned to make merengue. That is something of an art in the South, if you don't make it right, it well separate and make your pie look ugly. I began the process by separating room temperature egg yolks from the whites, making sure not to even get a tiny bit of egg yolk in the whites! Next you add a small bit of cream of tartar and start beating. Fortunately we had a large mixer, and that was a blessing as it would have taken hours to beat those whites into stiff peaks! As it was, it took some time, and I had to stand there scraping down the sides of the mixing bowl and watching the whites carefully. After a while, they actually started to form stiff peaks. Then, I added sugar and beat some more. Believe it or not, the merengue was perfect! I forgot to tell you about the pie crusts from scratch and the cooking of the pie fillings, but others did that; my job was the fluffy white merengue topping. I piled the merengue on top of the cooked pies lying enticingly in their golden brown crusts, (remember, southern women make a science of pie making) and put the lofty topped pies into a hot oven. In a few minutes, the merengue was lightly browning and ready to come out. Now, the secret to having perfect pies to present at Thanksgiving, is to make extra to sample the day before. That way, the dinner pies will actually make it to the table, since the sampling pies held us over until then. After the pies and cakes and crisps were done, and the bowls were licked and washed, we set about making the homemade rolls. That took some time, but those rolls too, turned out great. For the rest of the afternoon and evening, we chopped celery and onions for the cornbread dressing, and made sure we had everything for the most perfect Thanksgiving meal ever! The next morning, the kitchen was humming with girls and matrons cooking dinner. Someone had to peel the mountain of potatoes for mashing, assemble the dressing, decorate the dining room, fix the vegetables, (corn, green beans, turnip greens with bacon) and make the deviled eggs. The turkey had been washed, salted and placed in a huge roaster, and by then was baking away at the perfect temperature. The giblets were simmering on the stove, and it was an orderly scene of chaos. Before I knew it, it was almost time for dinner. Huge crockery bowls were filled with the vegetables, the mashed potatoes had an indention with golden butter that ran down the sides like yellow lava, the rolls were in a wicker basket lined with a tablecloth, the gravy waited majestically in lovely gravy boats, one at each end of the table. Cranberry sauce waited in a bowl with a silver spoon, and blocks of real butter had silver butter knives next to them. The table was set with a spot right in the middle absent of anything, waiting for the turkey. I was to have the pleasure of bringing the bird from the kitchen, and I could just imagine the applause as I carried the porcelain platter, (with a painted turkey on it of course) loaded with a perfect turkey to the table. The turkey would be centered just so, surrounded with green lettuce leaves, it's skin golden brown, the legs in their little white paper booties. I waited until everyone was seated, the girls, the matrons and the guests and announced that the turkey would be out in just a moment. I swept into the kitchen, got the platter and walked to the stove to remove the turkey from the roasting pan. The roasting pan was sitting on the stove top. Well, here goes. Someone had placed a kitchen towel over the turkey to keep it warm. I still remember those red kitchen checks on that towel. What they did not know was that when the gravy pan was removed from the stove top, someone also forgot to turn off the flame. I saw the smoke rising up from the side of the roaster with the turkey still inside, and it took me a second to realize that the turkey was on fire! Actually, it was the dishcloth that was burning, but in a panic, you don't take the time to separate the facts. I grabbed two pot holders, gripped that turkey by it's little white paper bootie covered legs and yanked it from the pan. My intent was to flop it onto the platter, but I missed because I was hysterical and over slung the bird. The next thing I hear it- the sickening sound of a huge turkey slamming to the kitchen floor, and see the sickening sight of two turkey legs with little paper booties still in my hands! All of this time, I have avoided screaming like a fool, and good thing too, because I don't know how I would have explained everything. To make matters worse, when the bird hit the floor, it slid over to the door that was closed between the kitchen and the dining room. I could hear the talking and conversations going on just on the other side of that door- so, praying that the floor had been mopped recently, I set the severed turkey legs on the counter, and took the porcelain platter and placed it on the floor next to the turkey. I scooped up the carcass, (it actually looked pretty good) put it on the platter and then stood up and set it on the counter. I arranged the carcass as best as I could and set the disjointed legs next to the turkey, making a rather presentable Thanksgiving offering. Quickly arranging the lettuce leaves around the turkey, I swept into the dining room as though I was one of the wise men bringing gifts to the baby Jesus. Everyone began to applaude as I set the bird on the table and took my seat. The legs of the bird flopped to the side, and now it was apparent that they were no longer connected. The head Administrator thanked me for the lovely turkey, but I had to keep my face down because I was trying not to cry. The Administrators wife said, "well, you call tell this is a juicy tender turkey! Look, the legs have fallen off! That always means the turkey is perfectly done!" Agreements passed around the table, with some saying that they were tired of dry turkey, and glad that this one was so juicy. Okay, okay, no I never told anyone that I had dropped the bird on the floor and scooped it up to serve it anyway. My policy is, don't ask, don't tell! Anyway, that bird couldn't have been on the floor more than 5 seconds- isn't that the rule? Dinner was wonderful, and I received compliments on my lovely merengue pie and the turkey too. More tomorrow, love, nanasee