What do you get by mingling 1,200 pounds of animal flesh and a
couple of ounces of PVC pipe? A plumber.
What do you get by mingling 1,200 pounds of animal flesh and a couple of ounces of PVC pipe? A plumber. However, not every plumber wants to show up on Thanksgiving morning to wallow in muddy water to replace a water line, which is why I do very much appreciate Tony Guaracha of A&N Plumbing for saving a Turkey Day that started out on the wrong hoof.
Like most Americans on Thanksgiving, I got up earlier than usual to prepare the feast. As I headed to the kitchen my honey headed to the bathroom, and after using the commode he made a ghastly discovery – there was no water to go “swish.”
“We have no water pressure,” he hollered, as if I had something to do with it.
And one bird was not enough. He wanted three, but had to settle for two turkeys – one for the oven, one to fry. Yes, folks, that’s deep-fried, in peanut oil.
“Are you sure we’re going to have enough to eat?” I asked.
“I love turkey,” he said. “I could eat it all the time.”
“You just might have, too” was all I was going to say – for now.
Since it was our first time deep-frying turkey, I had to be sure we had at least one bird good to go in case my beloved’s hairbrained idea didn’t work out. But without water to wash them, time became an issue for the bird scheduled for the oven.
Lo and behold, and much more dependable than the post office, Tony was there with a smile before we finished our first cup of coffee, and right on schedule I popped that bird in the oven and continued hustling.
Coming from Michigan, which is the heart of cold climate, Thanksgiving is a sure sign the seasons have changed. But here we were in Aromas, California, wearing short-sleeved shirts on such a beautiful day. I like it, how about you? (What I want to know is where the hell was the sun this past summer?)
All in all the holiday had me yearning for a traditional turkey dinner. Somehow, deep-frying turkey went hand-in-hand with beer and football games. Oh, wait a minute, that’s right – Thanksgiving is beer and football. How could I forget the game?
Unfortunately, the Lions sucked and lost miserably. But, hey, that’s another tradition that could use a change.
After eating turkey for two days, I had enough. I was done, but not my guy. He was ready for another meal.
“Boy, I do love turkey,” he said.
“Yeah, I know – and it’s starting to show,” I replied.
Leftovers had a new meaning in our household. I thought I was going to be condemned to turkey dinners until the last bit of turkey meat was gone. Then on day four I made Turkey Tetrazzini.
“What did you do to it?” he moaned after one taste. “I can’t eat that. It brings back a bad childhood memory – anything with white sauce on it.”
Defending myself, I told him I “did” nothing to it – I created Turkey Tetrazzini. “What else am I going to make with it?”
With only four people eating Thanksgiving dinner, we had enough turkey to feed a tribe and lots of leftover turkey meat. Finally, my dear man gave me a reprieve.
“Freeze the rest,” he said. “I lost my appetite. I have to wash this taste out of my mouth with beer.” He added sheepishly, “Ah, c’mon. It’s the only thing that works.”
My cousin Nene was the smart one. She avoided our house like the bubonic plague. (Do they still teach kids about the plague?)
Opting for a hassle-free turkey dinner, she went out to eat.
