I LOVE this picture. More than any other family picture we've had in a while. It only took 5 tries, It's only the from the chest up and I think my wrists look pretty and thin (can't say the same for my hips/thighs), the girls were happy, Christmas was fast approaching, Brandon wore polar bear jammies and I was about to prep our Christmas Dinner Turkey....*insert scream* Okay, so truthfully the Turkey has nothing to do with the reasons why I LOVE this picture, but it is sadly connecting to those fleece polar bear jammies.
A little background....and an embarrassing truth to be told, I've never cooked a turkey. How could that be after 10 years of marriage, three children, a million ward parties and twice as many Holidays? I've been avoiding Mr. Turkey like the plague. I was intimidated, nervous and quite honestly a little grossed out. So this year I decided to face my fears and stuff the bird.
It started out innocent enough...I even remembered to defrost Mr. T several days before, and had read up on all the latest T cooking ideas. I decided on the brining method, but lack a pan large enough to drown Mr. T in the amount of salt water required. EVERYONE said a turkey bag would have the same desired effect. So, I washed Mr. T, cleaned his innards (we got to be fast friends...) and delicately brushed his surface with butter and sea salt. Then I prepped the bag, introduced Mr. T to his new abode and filled it with water. I had a roasting pan prepared to house the bag and the bird, and then, out of nowhere Mr. T threw me out like an old gold necklace. As I gingerly picked up the bag and began the delicate transfer to the roasting pan, the bag BURST. Now I don't mean sprung a little leak, yada yada yada. No, it exploded! And I, and said fuzzy polar bears were drenched in salmonella juices. The kitchen was truly flooded and the counter tops were swimming. And Mr. T, well Mr. T took pity on me and plopped right back into the clean kitchen sink, and that my folks is why this is a true Christmas Eve Miracle.
Eventually Mr. T and I made up through the rewashing, rebuttering and rebagging (trash bags are much sturdier, but not food safe my mother tells me...too late), and 13 hr brining. And then just moments before our guests rang the door bell Mr. T performed yet another miracle and released the timer. Hallelujah, I could hear the choir singing. Mr. T was quite beautiful and juicy if I do say so myself. I rather enjoyed him. And so, in the future and the Holidays to come I'll never forget this Christmas Eve Miracle or Mr. T., or washing my Christmas Eve Jammies on Christmas Eve so they can really be worn when they were meant to be.