Spatchcocked!

If nothing else, I recommend spatchcocking because it’s fun to say.

I thought I was so clever putting plastic wrap over my keyboard. I needed my computer for my spatchcocking slideshow. It turns out it’s tough to work the trackpad. But not impossible. The plastic was all ooky by the time I finished.

Here’s that spatchcocked sucker.

Here’s an important piece of information: if you think that dinky pair of poultry shears that you got in that wooden knife block for your wedding however many years ago, 16? 17?, is going to snip the backbone out of your turkey, you are going to be in a world of hurt. By the time I realized how inadequate they were for the job, it was too late. I’d taken a big enough gouge out of poor Butterball that I was committed. It was pure brute strength, a lot of bad words and an adult beverage that made that happen.

And then when I was done mine didn’t look like the picture and for a second I thought, “Oh shit, I cut out the wrong backbone.”

I got it all figured out.

The other thing you should know is that you are going to be deep up in your bird’s business. I’m not especially squeamish and I had a few moments of doubt during the process.

The final result, which I failed to get a photo of due to a complication explained below, was fantastic. I’m going to buy a pair of industrial shears and try it on chickens, too.

The dinner turned out great. The only snafu was that I nicked the tip of my thumb during the last hour. If you’ve ever been near a kitchen during the last hour before serving Thanksgiving, you know that a lot has to happen at the same time. Having a thumb that wouldn’t stop bleeding made it extra challenging. There aren’t a lot of work arounds when you can’t use your thumb.

Bob helped and I developed a pattern of do something, blot, do something, blot. We had dinner on the table only 20 minutes later than planned.

I’m off to find my first piece of pie of the day.