On Pack Structure and Turkeys

She who makes the turkey is the head bitch.

In the South, holiday meal preparation is an example of pack structure in action.  The head bitch [usually the eldest woman] coordinates all of the subordinate bitches’ activities.  The head bitch is also responsible for baking the turkey and/or ham (One large source of protein is never sufficient at Southern gatherings.).

Every head bitch has her secret method of cooking her turkey.  Most methods are passed down the matriarchal line  for generations and rarely is the method shared outside of that line.  It’s kind of like asking a woman if you can borrow her husband for the night – just not something that you do.

In my mom’s family, my grandma was the “pack leader”.  She gave any females in the family who were old enough to stir or chop their tasks and ruled with an iron fist.  She was also the one who slapped hands and shooed interlopers out of the kitchen.

Since my grandma died a few years ago, family dinners have been a bit unorganized and various women have been tasked with the making of the turkey (and/or ham and/or whatever other animal was being cooked).

For some unknown (and idiotic) reason, I opened my big trap and offered to cook the turkey this year.

While we were in Florida and away from all of our family, I found a brined turkey recipe that Alton Brown did on his show Good Eats. (You can find my version by clicking here.)  I tried it and LOVED it and have made it several times since.  The issue is that I’ve never made the damn thing with a set dinner time.  We always ate whenever the thing was done.

So today, I’m faced with not only the first time that I’ve cooked a turkey for this large of a crowd but also the first time that I’ve had a time that the damn thing had to be done by.  And of course I had to add another degree of difficulty by purchasing a new roasting pan AND cooking this thing in an oven that I’ve never cooked a turkey in.

All of these variables could possibly equal disaster which will mean that I will be the laughing stock of my mother’s family as well as a hated member for a short period of time since to screw up a Southern family’s food is close to a punishable-by-death offense.

Basically, I foresee two outcomes.

#1 I attain the position of head bitch when this turkey is THE BEST THING EVER but I will probably have to cook the turkey from here on out.

#2 This turkey is a massive flop and my pack rank is dropped to somewhere around my mom’s miniature dachshund’s.  The silver lining to this pack position is that I’ll never be asked to cook anything again.

At this point, I’m not quite sure which is the better option so I’m crossing my fingers that the turkey is at least edible and done cooking with enough time to spare that we can pack it, ourselves and the two kids up and make it to Mom’s in time for the thing to be carved and served by 2pm.

I’ll update after we get home.  Hopefully, I’ll have retained all of my body parts and haven’t been flogged too badly.

Turkey after 30 minutes at 500 degrees.