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Thanksgiving most fowl
I know, I know … time to move on to the December holidays, but before we do, one more little Thanksgiving story.
Let me preface by saying that my family is making an effort to eat more naturally. As I’ve mentioned before, my husband’s a hunter, so we eat our share of venison (naturally, free range!). We go for beef from organically raised cattle, eggs from free-range chickens, and organic vegetables whenever possible.
As the Thanksgiving holiday neared, I’d read my share of horror stories about turkeys stuffed with antibiotics and growth hormones, raised in terrible conditions. An organic turkey sounded like a pretty good idea.
We found the names of some organic turkey farmers in a Washington Post article. One of these was recommended by a guy who works for my husband. We phoned in an order and arranged for pick-up the Tuesday before Thanksgiving.
And so it was that I was headed to lovely Clarke County on a chilly, overcast afternoon. We ended up with an 18.8 pound beauty – one I knew had been strutting his stuff a mere day before.
Now, to be sure, organic turkey is more expensive than the birds you get in supermarkets. But ours turned out to be a bit more expensive than I bargained for.
I watched as the farmer carried the turkey toward my car. It was wrapped in a clear, plastic bag – simple, sturdy, but to the casual observer, not tremendously insulated. In any event, there was too much junk in the back of my Volvo for the bird to sit there.
“Just put it in the front seat,” I directed.
The farmer obliged, placing the turkey in the shotgun position, along with an extra neck my husband had requested. (Apparently, neck meat makes for good stuffing. I stay out of such extraneous details of food preparation.)
A short while later, I was on the road and considering my passenger. It was a bit of a haul back to Leesburg. I hoped the bird was OK in its clear plastic overcoat.
Now for some clarification. I’m no lead foot. I follow traffic rules and posted speed limits the vast majority of the time. But I guess in my zeal to get the little guy (and neck) back home in a timely fashion, I overdid it a little in the speed department. Along a straight stretch of country road, I noticed a police car peeking out, and one of Clarke County’s finest waving me over.
Crud.
He was nice. He was smiling. He approached my window.
“Ma’am, is there some kind of emergency?”
I looked slowly over at my little co-pilot, and looked back slowly at the officer. Nope. He wasn’t going to buy that.
“No, sir.”
“Well, you were speeding.”
“Sorry.”
“Can I see your license and registration?”
I handed them over. He looked at them briefly, then glanced back at me.
“How is your driving record, ma’am?”
“Good. It’s good.”
“Just good? Not great?”
“Well, I don’t like to brag.”
He chuckled at that. Good! He laughed! Laughing is good! Maybe I’d get off easy.
Maybe … well, you can guess the rest. A speeding ticket was issued, which of course I deserved. The turkey would have been fine had I progressed at the legal rate of speed toward the homestead in Leesburg. Since then I’ve been watching my speed, and I’ve paid my debt to society. I've gained a valuable lesson, among other things.
Turkey with extra neck … $94. A speeding ticket with fees … $161. One more Thanksgiving anecdote to share … priceless.
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