I have had enough of turkey.
Turkey became a Thanksgiving tradition around the middle of the 1800s. At the time, turkey would have been readily available to many Americans and a very good meal for a family to share—certainly a fitting one for a holiday. Let us bear in mind, however, that these were the same people who regularly died of cholera and dysentery, and whose best medical technology involved leeches. We have had the good sense to cast off many of their regular practices.
The turkey, however, remains. We eat turkey because we love the idea of eating turkey at Thanksgiving. If we loved turkey itself, we would eat turkey regularly during the rest of the year instead of only at Thanksgiving and when a turkey club sandwich is the least offensive option at an event with a selection of boxed lunches.
There is a romance to the idea that for one night of each year, the whole country convinces itself that the driest poultry in the world is actually good just for the sake of tradition, togetherness, and a giving of thanks. For this, I love turkey.
(As an aside, if Thanksgiving were reimagined for this century, we would probably eat Doritos. I don’t mean to suggest that they are particularly good or wholesome, but they hold roughly the same role that Turkey did 170 years ago in that they are readily available to the average American and play a not-insignificant role in our national identity.
Millions of dollars have been spent on research and development for the Dorito. It is an American innovation that has been perfectly engineered to deliver a texture and taste that lights up whatever neurons in the deep recesses of our reptilian brain bring us pleasure. The Dorito is a miracle of our modern age.)
Turkey is fine. It is better than quinoa, so we really cannot complain. One night of turkey for the sake of tradition is terrific. After that, my patience wears thin.
Every year, my family prepares enough turkey to feed forty people. In a typical year, not more than 8-10 people are present for Thanksgiving dinner. (This year, of course, the meal did not include anybody outside of the household and was even smaller.) The effect of this is that turkey is not just the Thanksgiving meal, but the base of every meal for weeks to follow.
I am always opposed to leftovers. If you ate pasta for lunch and somebody asked if you would like pasta for dinner, you would suggest another option because you already ate pasta for lunch and you already suffer enough without having to eat the same meal over and over and over until the end of time.
Leftovers are worse because the food is not only the same but the quality declines with each subsequent meal. It is older, more damp, and more prone to salmonella. Why somebody would consciously prepare a meal with leftovers in mind is well beyond my understanding.
There is a certain joy the morning after Thanksgiving. I have taken my American duty to eat turkey seriously for yet another year and have slept well as a result. Foolishly, I have begun to dream of other meals. Within a few hours, the fateful question is asked. “What’s lunch?” or “What’s dinner?”
The answer does not come with words, but instead with a vague gesture toward the stove, where a mighty cauldron of turkey soup is simmering away. The day of turkey has ended. The season of turkey has only just begun. I think I might prefer Doritos.
Distractions
Things I have been reading and watching this week.
“Exploding Whale 50th Anniversary, Remastered!” from KATU.
When you think of important moments in TV news history, you might think of the moon landing or Walter Cronkite removing his glasses to announce that President Kennedy had died. This deserves a place among these great moments. It is perhaps the very best local news piece ever produced, and it has a delightful Wes Anderson vibe. Particular highlights include the engineer from the State Highway Division pretending that this is not the most exciting day he has ever had at work (:57), an artful shot of an elderly couple watching the spectacle from a sand dune (1:30), and an unidentified woman shouting “Alright, Fred! You can take your hands out of your ears!” as blubber begins to rain down from the heavens (2:07).
“In the Unlikely Event” from 99% Invisible.
I have always had a weird fascination with airline safety cards, though I do not know enough to write about them for myself. Fortunately, the folks at 99% Invisible have taken it upon themselves to do just that. This wonderful podcast explores the oddities of airline safety cards—their weird calm quality, the outdated fashion choices of the characters, and the horrifying (but darkly funny) experiment design that contributed to the modern safety cards we all know and love.