Thanksgiving – In the US, it is time for family gatherings loaded with dysfunction. We all have at least one dysfunctional family member that we hope and pray decide to visit the other family member this time around.
But just because that family member has decided to spare us a visit this year doesn’t always necessarily mean that we won’t have a Thanksgiving mishap. They happen. Life happens.
I remembered my first Thanksgiving mishap many moons ago. My son was just a baby. That was well over twenty-five years ago.
I was tired of having the same old thing for Thanksgiving and wanted to try my hand at changing things up – turning away from the traditional turkey.
Sometimes it is best to stick with what you know for the sake of the matter. Don’t experiment on your parents. They’ll never let you live it down.
What I wanted to serve that year for Thanksgiving instead of turkey was a goose. They tend to be bigger, and I thought juicer than the average bird.
We even went to the extreme of getting a bird fresh from a farmer and plucking our own. No one told me about using a hot butter knife or pouring hot liquid over the bird to help with the plucking business. I spent hours plucking that bird instead. I only learn about the later technique after the fact.
It was our first Thanksgiving in our new home. A home we bought instead of rented. We wanted it to be memorable, not ordinary. So a goose seemed to be the answer for our change of tradition.
The plucked bird was stuffed in the usual turkey way and placed in the oven before my mom and dad arrived. Hopes of showing her that I was developing healthy cooking skills, which didn’t happen.
First the oven took too long to heat up. Apparently the regulator was gone, and we didn’t know it. Dinner wasn’t ready on time – almost two hours late.
Then Mom tried to help me make gravy. I didn’t know that goose was so greasy. The gravy didn’t want to set. Ugh!
Dad hates dark meat! That’s all a goose is made up of. Naturally he did nothing but complain about what a disaster Thanksgiving turned out to be. No one said, “Real mashed potatoes, green beans, rolls, or anything about the desert being delicious.” All they could do was focus on the Goose no one wanted to eat.
Had I done a trial run before hand, I would never have selected to serve my father goose on Thanksgiving Day.