Turkey Horror Stories: We'll Tell If You Will (Video)

This Patch video offers tips on preparing the perfect Thanksgiving turkey. Do as it says, not as I did.

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I’ve been around for more than a couple of Thanksgivings, but have been able to successfully sidestep responsibility for “The Bird.”

The Bird was so often personified — “he” was uncooperative, “he” was a tough, old bird — that it occupied as prominent a role as “The Grandmother,” who always made too-sweet marshmallow-topped sweet potatoes; “The Auntie,” who could have cured bacon with amount of salt she put in the green-bean casserole; and “The Random Stray Guests” I brought along to Thanksgiving dinner.

No matter who it was, he or she always seemed to bring macaroni-and-cheese, because that’s what they always had at their Thanksgiving dinners, which I don’t get at all.

Let me be clear: Mac-and-cheese is not Thanksgiving fare. It isn’t. I’m in the mac-and-cheese-is-overrated crowd, and am annoyed when I find it on the menus of restaurants that don’t allow jeans. But that’s another rant entirely.

As a single woman, it is assumed I can’t cook, or don’t have the proper pans, appliances and utensils even if I could cook. Neither is true. But it works to my advantage. I dutifully show up with a couple of bottles of carefully selected wine and everyone loves me, especially toward the end of the day.

I have cooked exactly one turkey in my life. I won it in a drawing at work, and although I do have pans — nice ones — I had none big enough for The Bird and had to borrow a roaster oven.

The counter space in my kitchen is less than on most bathroom vanities, so I had to set the roaster on the floor and lock the cat in a spare room while The Bird roasted, which took most of the day because I hadn’t thawed it properly.

The cat smelled The Bird cooking, meowed and scratched incessantly at the door, pooped on the floor to show her displeasure, and hissed at me and was generally miserable when I finally let her out to join the party.

I’m a decent cook, but The Bird was bad. Because I hadn’t paid proper attention to the amount of time needed to thaw it, it was dry and overcooked in some spots and raw and cold in others. “Interesting” was the nicest thing anyone said about it. Fortunately, one of the guests brought mac-and-cheese.

I identify with Aunt Minnie, who wasn’t my aunt at all, but my grandfather’s second wife. After my grandmother died, her first Thanksgiving cooking for my dad, his siblings and their children was an epic failure. They weren’t particularly gracious about it, from what I gathered.

I was too young to remember it, but as I looked through old family photographs years ago and saw that our family had rented out a restaurant dining room for Thanksgiving dinner, I wondered why we weren’t at someone’s home.

As my dad explained it, poor Aunt Minnie had boiled The Bird the year prior, which I suppose is on par with not properly thawing it. Granddad said he’d never put it through it again, so we went out for Thanksgiving dinner for years after.

So there you have it, two turkey horror stories.

• What’s your Thanksgiving turkey horror story? Tell us in the comments, or on Facebook. Send a photo or video if you dare and we’ll post it.

And then there’s this:

I can’t even imagine cooking a turkey in a deep fryer. Not only does it seem wrong, it can go terribly wrong.

• Exploding Turkey: Tips to Avoid Thanksgiving Fire Disaster

» Photo by tuchodi via Flickr