The Best Turkey Ever, Not The Prettiest But The Best

My mom makes the best turkey.

Her turkey was never one of those like you see on the tv commericals or in a Norman Rockwell painting.

There was never the swinging kitchen door where mom appeared with a beautiful golden turkey on a platter that she sat down in front of dad as he stood with carving knife in hand.

No, it was nothing like that.

She would put the turkey in the large granite roaster, breast down and put at least two or more sticks of butter, real butter mind you, into the cavity.

Then she covered the turkey at least a little more than half way with water, salt and pepper.

Put the lid on and baked it low all night long.

My favorite part of Thanksgiving as a little girl was getting up with mom to check the turkey. She would pull open the oven, remove the lid and baste it while I stood beside her watching.

Mom's turkey is never dry but it is never an overly pretty turkey. It's to moist for that. It falls off the bones.

  She opted for taste instead of beauty.  Plus there is always lots of broth for dressing and dumplings.

I was married for several years before I ever attempted to make a turkey. It just seemed like something only mom could do.

Mom and Dad are coming here tomorrow.

The turkey is thawing and I will put it in the pan she gave me soon and start the slow roasting process.

I've gone from standing beside mom watching in awe as she baked the best turkey ever to standing in my own home baking the best turkey ever.

Just like she taught me.

I hope she likes it.


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