Since I don’t want to get bogged down in too much conversation about the holidays, let’s call this a public service announcement. Because when your Thanksgiving turkey goes in the trash and then a couple of days later you save your family from a could-be forrest fire in your very own living room, you share.
A week before Thanksgiving I ordered a turkey from Whole Foods. Not the fancy kind, just the generic-label, plain old, fresh from the factory 12-pound turkey. We picked it up, it looked and smelled normal, it cooked well, smelled delicious and looked beautiful. But it tasted horrible.
As Sir Husband carved it we could just tell something wasn’t right. The dark meat looked like duck, the white meat looked and felt like pork chops, and it tasted and now smelled like crap. Our free-range turkey must have gone wild we thought. Nope, turns out Whole Foods gave us the wrong kind. They gave us an heirloom/heritage.
What’s that? These domestic birds are specifically raised with historic characteristics, dating back to the Pilgrim Days. I don’t even want to know how or why. While I’m not a Butterball gal, I prefer the more modern flavor and texture. The moral of the story is this – if you want your turkey to taste like turkey, you better check the label.
Now, picture this. It’s a misty and cold afternoon. Sir Husband and I pull into the local Amvets parking lot, where their Christmas tree fundraiser is in full swing. We grab a cup of hot chocolate, and we begin to weave in and out of the tree maze. Rows of perfectly-shaped, deep luscious green trees that look as if they were from a Christmas storybook forrest surround us. Not a Charlie Brown tree in sight, which is a slight shame, I’m a fan of the misfit tree.
We picked an affordable beauty, and they delivered it for free. The bottom was sawed, it fit in the water-filled stand, we put it in the living room window, and like a good steak, we let it rest. Call it intuition, or call it dumb luck, I knew something wasn’t right before we went to bed. The tree took in no water, and dropped a thick carpet of brown needles that mysteriously appeared out of nowhere.
I tossed and turned all night, I didn’t feel good about our beautiful tree. I know a lot of firemen, whose scary tales have stuck. This probably-should-be firewood tree was going back to the lot.
We explained to the very kind veterans that our tree was beyond dead upon arrival, and they quickly delivered us a tiny, perfectly-shaped new tree. Key word, tiny. But it’s fresh and safe, and that’s all that matters.
Here’s the PSA. Turn your chosen green tree upside down before you bring it home, if the inside needles are brown, pick again, you could prevent a living room forrest fire.
So, first the turkey, then the tree, and there are still 25 days to go. I didn’t even tell you what happened to the refrigerator…