I have not always been a good cook. I flinch writing that just now, but it is unfortunately true. I've always liked to cook, I just wasn't as skilled as I should have been starting out..
There were many kitchen mishaps in the beginning. Strawberry jam that somehow missed the jell stage and went straight for a crystallized mass melded with the bottom of the pan. Endless meals involving hot dogs (cringe) and packaged macaroni and cheese (blech). But I would have to say that Thanksgiving 1996 was my not so finest moment..
My ambition has never overshot my ability as much as it did that day.
It was my first turkey. The instructions seemed easy enough. Never mind the fact that I had never even cooked a whole chicken let alone it's much larger counterpart - details were unimportant. I followed all of the instructions, save those that admonished that the turkey should be well thawed. The bird had been in the refrigerator for 2 whole days, and being a Thanksgiving novice, I though that would be enough.
At the appointed time, I pulled the pasty poultry from the oven, a bit perplexed that it did not have the same healthy glow as the turkeys did in the advertisements. All the same, I shrugged and put the platter on the table. To this day, I'm surprised the bird didn't hop right off the table and make a run for it when my husband valiantly tried to carve it.
There have been many other Thanksgiving turkeys since that fateful day in November. But that is the one that everyone remembers.