Did I ever tell you folks that I married a red seal chef?
Well, it’s true. My darling wife was a red seal pastry chef when I met her. At the time she was cooking at one of the fanciest hotel restaurants in the city. Since then, she left the cooking profession, took up a twenty career as Halifax’s most successful bellydance instructor, and then gave that up for reasons of health and has gone on to become a very accomplished medical secretary – which is a heck of a lot harder than you might imagine it to be.
So I am pretty damn proud about my darling Belinda.
On top of that I am pretty damn smug about the fact that when I go home for leftovers they are better than most rich men eat.
(there’s a reason I wear these suspenders)
So I was planning on a really great feed of turkey this weekend – on account of it being Thanksgiving up here in Canada.
Well, you know what they say about making plans, don’t you?
Anyway, Belinda was GOING to make us a big feed of turkey this weekend only she has come down with a badly infected throat. She can barely talk and is beat right to pieces.
So – I leaped into action.
I took a crash course in Youtube videos and easy-does-it recipes.
Then I said my darling wife – “Hush yourself woman, you’re too sick to cook.”
(you can get away with saying hooraw like that, just so long as you are standing close enough to the bedroom door)
So I got to work cooking up my very first turkey.
I cleaned the bird out and I laid the giblets and neck aside. Then I scrubbed that brute with salt and got all the gunk off of it. I made bacon and oyster stuffing and jammed the sucker full. At the same time, I made a bowl of tomato soup for Belinda and a bacon and cheese sandwich for myself.
Mind you, I ran up and down the stairs three times to ask for quick advice on what to do next in a calm and cool manner.
“HEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLPPPPPPPPPPPP!” I said. “WHAT DO I DO NEXT?”
The fourth time I ran up my trusted girl Google was fast asleep so I winged it – which is oddly appropriate for cooking a turkey.
To make a long story short that bird is slow-roasting in the oven and ought to be ready by suppertime. I don’t know if she wants to eat it tonight or tomorrow. I’ll wait and see what she feels like.
Time for me to sit back on my laurels for a while and maybe do some more writing.
I’ll clean the kitchen in an hour or so.
Yours in storytelling,