Gobble, Gobble, Gobble, Wild Turkey, Wild Turkey

Posted by on Nov 21, 2012 in Thanksgiving | 0 comments

Of course I was at Target when I got the call.  Target in Bozeman is the best shopping for socks and tights.  I follow that with a well defined Super Walmart excursion.  I buy all new spices for the holidays and chat with friendly strangers who shop in slow motion.

When I answered my phone MP asked me where I was-- in an unusual hushed breath.  He really didn't care because it was his moment.

He almost secretly went on,"You will never guess what we got."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I leaned on my shopping cart and had a flash back to a novel I read.  Dead foxes were left hanging on out buildings as a warning to tourist interlopers by gun toting cigarette smoking locals.

I hurried back to see the gift in person.  Meet Mr. Merriam.   As I admired the beautiful almost metallic sheen of his polka-dot feathers I contemplated just how the game bird might be prepared.

I do know that a wild turkey isn't eaten like our fattened domestic birds.  Wild turkeys fly at night to escape their predators.  Their legs are not drumsticks--but strong and sinewy for running.

Because we are in Montana and because I love to cook doesn't make me The Pioneer Woman.

MP delivered the plucked bird to me--but just the breasts.

First up.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I assembled what I thought would bathe the breasts for a whole day.

Apple juice, Kosher salt, brown sugar, orange peel, peppercorns, bay leaves, fresh rosemary, and garlic.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I brought the brine to a boil

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

and simmered it for a few minutes before

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

cooling it completely.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We added the breasts to the brine and covered them with pure water.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We put Mackenzie River Pizza on speed dial.  MP gave me a breast and kept one --the competition begins.

--to be continued

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