{"id":6797,"date":"2023-11-26T07:32:30","date_gmt":"2023-11-26T12:32:30","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/dahlman.online\/?p=6797"},"modified":"2023-11-26T07:32:33","modified_gmt":"2023-11-26T12:32:33","slug":"a-tale-of-turkey-and-dogs","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/dahlman.online\/index.php\/2023\/11\/26\/a-tale-of-turkey-and-dogs\/","title":{"rendered":"A Tale of Turkey, and Dogs"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

This is one of the \u201cSunday Story\u201d series.  No Politics today, just a story of Thanksgiving \u2013 sort of\u2026<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Empty Nest<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

Jenn and I got married later in life, just eleven short years ago.  But we quickly developed our own Thanksgiving traditions, mostly revolving around kids, food, turkey and tenderloin.  Our son Joe was always there, and often some of his friends and some of the kids I \u201cadopted\u201d from the school.  But Joe moved to California with his love, Lauren, this year; and I\u2019ve  been retired from school for almost a decade.  The \u201ckids\u201d are all grown up, with their own turkey day traditions.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

So this was our first Thanksgiving on our own.  Maybe we should have taken the \u201chint\u201d, and ordered pizza (there is a \u201cThanksgiving Pizza\u201d with turkey, stuffing, and cranberry sauce, whew).  But I am nothing if not a traditionalist.  And besides, in retirement I have become a \u201csmoker\u201d.  No, not my \u201cbeloved\u201d cigars that for medical reasons I had to give up a few years ago.  I\u2019m one of those guys with a big black box outside, and bags of woodchips in the garage.  And there\u2019s really nothing that \u201csmokes\u201d quite as well as a full turkey.  So while we dropped the tenderloin (that comes at Christmas), I insisted that we still put on a full feast, if only for just the two of us.  A \u201cromantic\u201d Thanksgiving was my thought.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

For Two, at 2?<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

To start with, I swear Jenn said she wanted to eat around 2pm.  You see, the other part of this Thanksgiving is, surprise, a dog story.  Jenn is in the middle of persuading a stray dog to go into a trap.  They\u2019ll be a lot more about \u201cBruno\u201d later, but I figured we\u2019d spend Thanksgiving evening \u201cworking\u201d on the dog.  So two o\u2019clock sounded right.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

We had a small turkey, about thirteen pounds, and according to the \u201cMasterbuilt Smoker Bible\u201d it should cook for about four and a half hours.   Add a half hour to \u201crest\u201d before serving, and the usual \u201csmoker variables\u201d, and I figured it needed to go into the smoker somewhere around 8:30 am.  So I got up at 6:30 (our dogs were up anyway), and got the turkey out of the refrigerator to \u201ccome up\u201d to room temperature.  Meanwhile I fed our guys breakfast.  The first problem was, that Lou, our rescue from Louisiana, was much more interested in the turkey on the counter, than his breakfast on the floor.  It took a lot of effort to \u201credirect\u201d his attentions to the dish (he never did eat it all).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But the gang ultimately got fed, and I followed the simple recipe for smoked turkey.  I remembered to find the \u201cgiblets\u201d this year (last year, they smoked almost a full hour before I removed them), and got the neck out of the bird as well.  However, I completely forgot about the \u201ctraditional injection\u201d of marinade, instead just going with butter, salt and pepper as a seasoning.  I got the smoker warming up by 8, and by 8:30 the neighborhood was fragrant with hickory smoke.  The turkey went in at 8:45.  I was pretty much on time, on schedule.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Stretching it Out<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

That was, until Jenn got up, and said that we should eat later, maybe around six.  When I suggested she said two, she gave me that look, the one that says I don\u2019t pay proper attention to her when she\u2019s talking. (I know, sixty-seven, and maybe my hearing is failing.  But the audiologist says it\u2019s fine, then murmured under her breath something about \u201cselective deafness\u201d). But there wasn\u2019t an argument, we agreed that four would be a \u201cperfect\u201d time for Thanksgiving dinner.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Smoking is more of an art than a science anyway, so instead of heating at 275 degrees, I just went down to 240 for a while.  That should stretch things out, though there\u2019s always the threat of the number one disaster \u2013 dry turkey.  And now, I would have to keep the turkey in the smoker for another two hours, a total of seven.  So I was sweating the afternoon, worried about keeping a turkey \u201chovering\u201d at 155 degrees, ten-short of the bacteria killing safe 165.  I managed it, and around two-thirty I turned the smoker back up to the max 275 to finish up the bird.  Whatever else, it was going to be 165 before I brought it out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But three passed, and then three-thirty.\u00a0\u00a0No matter how hard I stared at the wireless thermometer, it never went above 156.\u00a0\u00a0All of a sudden, the smoker was holding up Thanksgiving.\u00a0\u00a0Everything else, mashed potatoes and gravy, fresh steamed green beans, stuffing, cranberries, and the \u201ctraditional\u201d Hawaiian rolls,\u00a0\u00a0couldn\u2019t start until the turkey began its thirty minute \u201crest\u201d.\u00a0\u00a0And there\u2019s no rest for the bird until it hit 165 \u2013 no matter what.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Panic <\/h3>\n\n\n\n

Finally about three-thirty, that\u2019s seven hours in, I hit the panic button.  We have a 1929 (that\u2019s the year it was built) Magic Chef \u201crestaurant class\u201d gas stove, one that can easily cook a traditional turkey.  So we heated it up, pulled and \u201ctented\u201d the turkey from the smoker, and \u201cfinished\u201d it in the oven.  And it still took another half-hour, to reach the \u201cgolden\u201d temperature.   Then there was a rush, getting everything else ready.  Meanwhile I braced for the worse:  slicing into the turkey and feeling the coarse \u201cdryness\u201d in the meat.  But there was no rushing \u201crest period\u201d.  Julius Caesar said it best:  \u201cAlea ictea est<\/em>\u201d, the die is cast.  Whatever the turkey was to be, it already was.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I found the electric carving knife, and faced my fate. But when I pulled out the thermometer probe, to my surprise, the juices flowed out behind it.  I made the first slice:  it was incredibly juicy, (moist as Joe would say), and the first test bite was amazing.  After all of the waiting, all of the hickory smoke, all of the desperation:  it was a great turkey, even if I say so myself.  So much for science; we \u201cwinged\u201d a smoked turkey, and it came out perfect.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We had a lovely Thanksgiving repast \u2013 just the two of us.  The cranberry contrasted perfectly with the stuffing, the dark meat was as good as the white, and the Meimoi Pinot Noir that Lauren got us hooked on, was perfectly matched.  It really was a quiet Thanksgiving dinner, quiet and perfect.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

 Bruno\u2019s Story<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

We finished up, with time for a turkey-coma nap before we headed out to help Bruno.  This dog has been wandering a mobile home park about thirty minutes south of here for almost a year, likely abandoned by someone moving out.  He won\u2019t go inside, won\u2019t allow himself to be corralled, but has developed relationships with two people.  The mailman who comes through every day and gives him a treat. Bruno will eat it from his hand. But he won\u2019t let the mailman pet him, shying back away from reach. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

And the other is a resident, who has fed Bruno since last February.\u00a0\u00a0She can pet him, and he\u2019ll follow her around.\u00a0\u00a0But he won\u2019t go inside, even in the worst weather.\u00a0\u00a0And unfortunately, the resident is terminally ill with cancer.\u00a0\u00a0She reached out to our group, Lost Pet Recovery:\u00a0\u00a0what could we do to help Bruno because she won\u2019t\u00a0\u00a0be around to help him anymore.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Training <\/h3>\n\n\n\n

So Jenn\u2019s trying to convince Bruno to go into a trap.  We\u2019ve got a foster home all lined up, if only we could get Bruno to \u201ccome in\u201d.  But he won\u2019t.  He\u2019s \u201ctrap smart\u201d; the local dog warden already tried.  And he ignored our much larger trap, even with the \u201cmagic\u201d McDonald\u2019s double cheeseburger as the bait.  So Jenn\u2019s trying a different kind of trap, a panel trap, one that looks like a fence instead of a wire crate.  And Bruno is slowly easing into it, stepping farther into the doorway each time.  He eats at 9:30 pm, so Jenn shows up to leave plates (paper, not Thanksgiving finery) with a mix of roast chicken and dog food.  On Thanksgiving night, there was a portion of hickory smoked turkey as well.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Bruno\u2019s eating well, but he isn\u2019t going all the way in yet.  There\u2019s more \u201ctraining\u201d to do, and maybe even a bigger panel trap to install.  When he finally goes all the way in, the automatic door will swing closed.  Then maybe we can get Bruno \u201csafe\u201d, into that foster home.  He\u2019ll have a  warm place to live, a couple of acres to run, and other dogs to play with.  And the resident will know that he\u2019s taken care of, even when she\u2019s gone.  Jenn\u2019s almost got him there.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\u2019ll let you know how it ends.  I hope that, like the turkey, it will be a \u201chappy\u201d Thanksgiving story.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

If you\u2019d like to donate to our group, Lost Pet Recovery \u2013 here\u2019s the link \u2013 hit the Donate button when you get there:<\/em> Facebook \u2013 Lost Pet Recover<\/a><\/em>y<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Or if you\u2019d like to send a check –  <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n