Did you enjoy all the food porn from Thanksgiving? The beautifully browned turkeys, plump and shiny sitting on a tasteful serving platter filled to brim with stuffing. Props to all of you amazing chefs and photographers out there, I hope it tasted as good as it looked. The photo you see above is what my turkey looked like. What is that shit bag that looks like a bowel movement coming out of the turkey? Those are the giblets. Apparently they are not meant to be baked inside the turkey.
Before the baking process began, I stuck my hand as far as possible up that turkey’s ass without being arrested and all I found were a turkey neck (looked like a penis) and something that resembled a heart with straw valves coming out of it. No giblet bag. There was no way I was going in for a third round of ass searching, so I massaged some oil on that bird and shoved him in the oven, fairly confident I was baking a plastic bag of giblets in the process. My house smelled weird all day. At no time did I walk in my house and think “MMM, I am one talented cook and my house smells amazing.” Nope. It smelled like a Little Tykes slide sitting in the sun and all I could do was hope that the turkey didn’t taste like Saran Wrap. I prayed to Baby Jesus that my kitchen wouldn’t explode while I was enjoying lunch at my mother’s house, where it actually smelled like Thanksgiving.
For an entire week prior to D-Day, I had asked my mom approximately 6,000 questions regarding cooking my turkey and I also Googled “roasting turkey” and “finding giblets” apparently to no avail. Every website I came upon gave me some simplified version of cooking a turkey that in no way described just how disturbing preparing a turkey really is. They were all super swell instructions on seasoning, browning at 400 degrees and making stuffing from only 324 ingredients. No one covered molesting a half thawed turkey, slimy neck penises or heart straws. My food porn could have been actual porn and I am not proud of that. I didn’t post pretty pictures of my turkey because there were none. There were these two pictures, which are nothing to write home about. Where was the giblet bag? To my surprise, there was an orifice that I didn’t corrupt on the other side of this poor turkey, so my giblet bag stayed inside the turkey and inside my oven for six hours. If you care, the turkey was edible. I threw away the neck penis and I now have a carcass in my fridge causing me a massive amount of guilt. According to my mother and every food blog, I am supposed to make soup stock out of it, but as of today it’s just busy scaring people from eating anything in our fridge. My daughter proclaimed it “the nastiest thing I have ever seen”. Once she has to pull a turkey neck out of a turkey’s ass, I am fairly confident she will change her mind.