The Great Poultry War of 2005

Someday, maybe I'll learn to watch what I say to my brother. I mentioned the turducken to him a month or so ago and he insisted I make one for Christmas eve. OK..it was close enough to being a dare that I couldn't walk away from it.

As Christmas approached and I thought about what was ahead of me, I started to get a little bit intimidated. I can admit that now. I was going to wrestle 3 dead birds and for awhile, I thought they might actually win.

The Great Poultry War of 2005 started the day after I did my Christmas groceries. Apron on, knife sharpened, cutting board out, latex gloves on...I went after the chicken first. I'd boned out a whole bird a couple of times before, so I wasn't completely unfamiliar with the technique. Jacques Pepin says it should take about a minute to debone a chicken. Perhaps that's true..for him, but not for me. I didn't do too badly..I'd say the chicken took me under 10 minutes.

The duck was another story. The concept in deboning a duck is the same as any other bird, but ducks are built funny. Long and bony, you know? We had a difference of opinion when I wanted his leg bone and he wasn't ready to give it up. I eventually won, of course.

I figured that the turkey would be the easiest...it was biggest, it made sense. I thought. The turkey actually gave me the most trouble, but that's all irrelevant now. Again, I won.

Stuffed the chicken with a shrimp stuffing and rolled it up. I secured it with a wooden skewer then covered the duck in a linguisa stuffing. Placed the chicken on top of that and wrapped the duck around it then secured that with a skewer and pulled out the skewer from the chicken. I covered the turkey in the sausage and bread stuffing I always make and then put the ducken on top of that. Another minor skirmish securing it, but I didn't lose control of the situation.

It fit snugly in the roasting pan and that was a good thing, at least I didn't need to worry about it falling apart while it cooked. Took that pan and placed it in my regular turkey pan (to catch the overflow of pan drippings), tossed it in the oven and a mere 6 or so hours later...Voila! Turducken!!

It seemed to go over pretty well, but I don't think I'll be making another one anytime soon. I did what I set out to do. I made a turducken. I won the Great Poultry War of 2005. I proved my point. I shall never be bested by three dead birds...not as long as there is life in my body.

The chicken - boned and stuffed. Once the duck was secured in place with a skewer, I pulled this skewer out. 

The duck with the linguisa stuffing 

Making progress 

Thank Heaven this isn't the side that will be showing 

OMG...I did it...I can't believe it, but I pulled it off 

All seasoned and ready to go 

Sometimes, I amaze even myself 

The culinary gods were smiling on me 

Johnny's not my homeboy anymore :(

Christmas should be a time of joy, not broken hearts. But this morning, a mere 4 days before Christmas, my heart was shattered into a million pieces.

You've probably heard by now...Johnny Damon has sold his soul and signed with the Evil Empire. I feel like I walked into the baseball version of Star Wars where George Steinbrenner is Senator Palpatine and Damon is a young Anakin Skywalker being lured to the dark side. And that's exactly what it is, our long-haired, bearded Jedi has chosen the path to the dark side. Why? Apparently principles and loyalty can be bought for $12 million dollars. I can understand if he needs a change. I can live with that. But the freakin' YANKEES??? And sure, a man has to support his family, but if you can't support a family on $10 million a year, well, there's something drastically wrong.

Damon says it's "Sad to say bye to some of the greatest fans in the world..." And New England sports fan ARE, in fact, among the greatest in the world. Why? One word: loyalty. Doesn't matter how badly our teams are doing, we remain loyal to them. It would be nice to get some loyalty in return.

The whole thing comes down to principles. At least for me. Without your principles, you have exactly nothing. I don't care how much money you have. Steinbrenner could call me tonight and say "Hey girl! We need a new secretary for the Yankees...I'll give you more money than you can possibly spend in your lifetime...whadda ya say?" I'd reply something along the lines of "Look, pal, I bleed Boston red and blue. If you think I'd work for you and your overpaid pack of steroid using pretty boys in pinstripes, you're on crack." I won't lie, the concept of more money than I could spend in my lifetime would be tempting, but there is no way I'd take it. I can't be bought. Unlike SOME people.

So that's the deal. We kiss Damon goodbye and he has to kiss his beard and long hair goodbye, because Palpatine has banned them on his Sith team. I adore Johnny Damon, I really do. But I have to stop. I have to hate him now just on GPs. Cuz he became one of THEM.

You broke my heart, Johnny. But my big brother says you have to learn to deal with misery and heartache if you're a Red Sox fan.

Construction complete. 

Official Declaration from Her Royal Tishness

So there it is, boys and girl...construction is complete. No, it's not perfect, but it ain't half bad. The genius behind the outhouse has offered to be my sidekick when my show goes into syndication, so I guess I'm ahead of the game, right?

I think I like the Christmas tree and the snowpeople the best. Of course I like the snowpeople..they are made from marzipan. What's not to like about that?!

Gingerbread construction is hereby officially declared a Christmas tradition at Casa Tish. So it is written, so it shall be done. (Pounding my chest like one of those hot Egyptian soldiers in The Ten Commandments.)

Next year's project will need to go into the planning stages early next year. Lots of research to do. Lots of planning. Blueprints to dig up...somewhere. I may need to hire an engineer, I'm not sure. LOL

Wanna know what it is? Only the best gingerbread project imaginable for a citizen of Red Sox Nation. I'm going to build...Fenway Park. Hey, do you think I can make Johnny Damon out of marzipan??!!

Do I want fence posts or not?? 

The lady of the house 

Hurry! 

Santa's been here already!! 

And it's even made out of logs! 

One side done...3 to go!! 

The lord & lady of the manor 

The view from the gingerbread helicopter 

Please, God..I know I can be a rotten, nasty, selfish witch, but PLEASE let it hold! 

Ok...so it isn't perfect, but let's face it...an outhouse is meant to be functional, not pretty. 

After some very colorful language, it's assembled at last!! 

This is the front of the house. The window "glass" is melted butterscotch hard candy. 

These are the side walls. The little pieces above the skating rink will be the chimney. 

That's the skating rink. I made the border with gingerbread and then melted some blue hard candy into it. 

Move over, Martha Stewart

I'm not sure what it is about Christmas, but I tend to turn into an old-fashioned girl when December rolls around. Cutting down a Christmas tree, pulling out ornaments from my childhood, making new ornaments every year. It's a strange sensation. This year though, I'm going a step further. I'm making a gingerbread house.

No, I don't mean I went out and bought a kit to make a generic gingerbread house. I'm really going to town on this. I found a site with quite a few patterns on it.

http://home.comcast.net/~frankysattic/index.html

First I saw the farmhouse and thought "Oh! How cute!" Then I scrolled down a bit more and saw a mansion and thought "WOO! That would be fun to decorate!" I scrolled down a bit more and then I found IT. The gingerbread house I was destined to build. A New England Saltbox.

So, that's what I've been working on since the weekend. I printed the template, transferred it to cardboard, made my dough, cut out the parts, even made an ice skating rink. I was going to start construction tonight, but my friend John (the PD from MO) had a stroke of genius last night. He suggested that I build an outhouse for the yard. You need to know my family to appreciate how utterly perfect an idea like that is. We're a twisted bunch. And I'm not much for "potty humor" but when the humor is the potty itself well, I guess I'm good with that. So, I did some research tonight. Found the dimensions for an outhouse. Scaled them down. And a little while later..VOILA! I have all the parts I need to build myself a gingerbread outhouse.

I'll be posting pictures as the project moves along. I'm looking forward to seeing how it all turns out. And I gotta say "thanks" to John...the outhouse idea really was pure genius!

Someday there'll be an answer...let it be

John Winston Ono Lennon. Father. Husband. Beatle. Musical genius. Pacifist. Legend.

This coming Thursday, December 8th, marks the 25th anniversary of the murder of John Lennon. A quarter of a century. Boggles the mind. I heard about it on the morning of December 9th while I was getting ready for school. It seemed impossible. WHO would kill John Lennon?! And WHY?? I shed a few tears and went to my room to get dressed. Of course, I put on a Beatles album when I got there.

As I dressed, in black from head to toe, I thought about how my hopes of the Beatles reuniting for one last tour were now gone. The only chance I had of seeing them perform live shattered into a million pieces in the amount of time it took for Mark David Chapman to pump four pieces of lead into Lennon. Then I thought about his kids. Julian was only a few years older than I was and Sean...he was only 5. Any age is a tough age to lose a parent. (I would find that out first hand in just 4 1/2 years.) But 5 years old?! The thought that someone could kill a musical legend like Lennon made me mad enough, but to murder the father of a small child...it just infuriated me. Sure, happens all time. But this was high profile, so it seemed much more real to me.

I walked to school and as I entered the building, I was greeted by Beatles music. That entire day, we had the Beatles playing over the PA system. Some kids wore all black like I did. Some wore Beatles tee shirts and others simply wore black arm bands.

For years, I kept wishing they had given Chapman the death penalty. Yoko keeps fighting to keep him from getting paroled. Now, I find myself wishing that they WOULD parole him. Sure. Why not? Put him back on the streets and see how long he lasts before some die hard fan decides to take him out of the game.

So Thursday...25 years. For me, it will be another day filled with Beatles music. Another day when I'll be dressed in black. Another day when I think about how short life really is. You just never know when your number is gonna come up. Which brings me back to Billy Clyde and the very first entry I made in this blog. It's time to be happy. If not now, when? Tomorrow may be too late.

Rest in Peace, John.