I've always considered myself, somewhat of an opportunist. If you ask me to play chess, I'll almost always pick the black pawn. Simply put, I'm comfortable with you going first. I know when to pump the breaks and I know when to mash the gas pedal and strictly steer.I had no clue what the day had in store for me.
This past Sunday I headed out looking for ducks. The sun was shinning and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. I remember putting on sun screen before I left. What in the world could I have been thinking? In spite of everything telling me this was not a day conducive to duck destiny, I had the endless feeling, It was going to be a golden day. After a good 2 1/2 hours of walking along the creek and peering over the embankment to the river, I saw 6 ducks. Four of them took off for the friendly skies while I was every bit of 100 yards away. The other two were a mile high and bent for leather. (or chapstick)....(you know, for their bill) Duh?
Tired, I walked lazily back to the truck. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flock of turkeys, doing what turkeys do; setting up a table to start a game of 3 card Monte. No, I'm just kidding. They were moseying across a field. Quickly, I changed my duck rounds out for goose rounds and began to put the sneak on. The closer I got, the lower I belly crawled to the ground. In my best turkey voice, I putted and clucked and chirped. As I laied flat on the ground, the flock made it's way over to me and just like that, BANG, Tom's your Uncle!
In order to share the love, I rang up a few friends and we decided to cook up the turkey, Colonal Sanders style. That's right, FRIED! My friend, Al the Bear, took charge and Monday night was to be teamed up with football and turkey dinner. That night Al and I plucked the bird and dressed him out. Monday Night Football AND fresh turkey? C'MON MAN!
The first thing we did Monday night was to coat the turkey with some chunky peanut butter before we dunked him into the hot oil. This is great, I can't wait to do it to my chicken strips!
After keeping the Tom submerged until his temperature was 165 degrees, we pulled him out to rest.
While we waited, my pal Shellie (with a p) made some buttermilk onion rings and we cooked up some redskin potato fries as well. As I began to carve the turkey a crazy thing happened......................................(enter dream sequence distortion waves)
As I began to carve the turkey, I noticed the appearance of what looked like herbs and spices. I asked if someone had stuffed the bird when I was not looking, and they all looked at me quite odd. I knew I had dressed the bird and stuffed him in a cotton sack and hung him over night in my garage. I took him out of the bag on Monday and smeared peanut butter on him and put him promptly into the molten oil. He had never been out of my site!
What had actually happened was I forgot to remove the crop. The crop is actually an expanded section of the esophagus. It is a place where turkeys, and some other species of birds, store whole food, before sending it down to be ground up in their gizzard. This crop was bigger than a baseball and jam packed with corn, wheat and grass. The aroma was heavenly and the flavor enhanced the meat like nothing I've ever tasted. While some folks were a bit "put off" I figured, the turkey mearly stuffed himself with 100 percent natural organic fixens. Yum Yum.
Sometimes the best laid plans of both turkeys and men, often go awry.
Life's too long to eat bad food or share good food bad people.