My Mexican Thanksgiving: And The Turkey Fiasco

Some stories are not worth retelling. And some stories are so epic that they must be retold and recounted on a blog. That's the sort of story the Thanksgiving Day I spent in Mexico turned out to be. Follow the progression of the most Epic Turkey Failure of All Time...you don't want to miss this.

The day started out brilliantly with Pancakes, coffee, and a quick skype session with my family in Alabama.

I made carrot sufflé

Afterwards, I went to the offices of the church planting center in order to cook the turkey for the Thanksgiving dinner we would be having for the missionaries who work with CPI. Nobody else volunteered to make the Turkey, so I took the task upon myself, even though I'd never cooked one before. Sometimes certain things present themselves as a challenge and something inside me switches and I've got to accept the challenge, even if there is a possibility that the whole thing could turn into a disaster. (That may or may not be a foreshadowing of things to come).

I arrived at the office to find the Turkey still partially frozen, even though it'd been in the fridge since Monday and had been on the counter overnight. This may have been due to the fact that indoors is about the same temperature as a fridge. Central heating isn't in down here. 

So I set out to thaw the bird the old fashioned way--with hot water. However, there was no hot water coming out of the faucet and I couldn't find a pot to boil water, so I had to make several pots of hot water in the coffee maker (a process I later repeated to wash dishes). At this point, a thought lodged itself in my brain that we may be in for a rough night, but I pushed it away. Always better to focus on the positive. 

Meanwhile, I checked the Celsius to Fahrenheit conversion: 

And watched a YouTube on how to remove giblets from the Turkey (an absolutely disgusting job, btw)

Once I got the bird in the oven, I thought I could breath easy. The recipe informed me I needed about 3 hours to cook the turkey and since it was a good 5 hours until 7PM when it needed to be ready, I settled down with a cup of coffee and a movie, feeling sure I was in the clear. 

Two movies later, I checked the temp. It's 6PM. My ride is due to arrive any minute. My poor turkey is far from being done. 

The next couple hours follow without photo documentation. At 7:30PM, I called ahead to the party to ask them to turn on their oven so the turkey could continue cooking at the house where we were actually eating. After loading the car with all the goods (along with the giant bird who spilled its juices all over the back of my car) we were on our way. However, halfway there I got a phone call from the party house telling me to hurry because I had the paper plates--they couldn't start eating without me. Upon hearing this, I let off a string of good-humored expletives, because, I had, indeed, forgotten to bring the plates from the office. 

Never fear, several people came to the rescue. Someone went out to buy plates and the oven was ready and waiting when I arrived. 

We had a jolly time eating everything but the turkey.

We devoured all the yummy fixins

and then moved on to dessert

Around 9:30PM, most people had cleared out to put their young children to bed. 

Around 10PM, the Turkey was finished cooking. More or less fashionably late:

It was announced that turkey was ready and those who were still enjoying fellowship laughed, cheered, and made there way to the kitchen to pick off a few pieces before heading home. 

Life is either caked in laughter or caked in tears. I decided around 6PM that this was certainly a laughing matter and not worth any tears. In fact, it was such an epic failure that it's sure to be a laughing matter for years to come. 

And the main focus of Thanksgiving is family and friends and who even likes turkey anyway? 

I arrived home with the leftover turkey around 11:30PM. I cut it into pieces to store in the fridge and made gravy from the juices. Then I realized my iPhone was missing. I looked through all my bags, searched my car, and couldn't find it. I asked someone to text the lady who hosted our Thanksgiving to ask her to keep an eye out for it. 

In a last ditch effort, I went out to search my car one last time. It wasn't there so I dejectedly headed back inside. As I walked up the stairs, the back pocket of my jeans vibrated. I reached back to encounter my phone and had the final laugh of the day. 

The clock struck midnight. 

It was the perfect ending to a perfect day. 

Leftover apple pie--it's what's for breakfast.