A Turkey Tale

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Does anyone else have turkey cooking memories from years past?

I do.
At this point you may be thinking 'of course you do Laura'.

I began my early marriage cooking history thinking that someone else older and turkey wiser than I would always take care of the turkey.

I helped in the kitchen of course, and I contributed some sort of side or dessert, but I was not in charge , and it never dawned on me that I ever would be.

I postponed that thinking because I still had one foot in 'sitting at the kid's table thinking'.

Oh the blessed cluelessness of youth. 

I remember my mother talking about how the Riverside brand of turkey at HEB was just as moist as a Butterball and how lucky I would be if I ever had double ovens in my kitchen.

I cooked my first turkey in a tiny rent house on Glasscock Road in Mission, Texas with an even tinier kitchen. 

While standing in the middle of the kitchen, I could rest my elbows on the counters on either side.

I used the handwritten recipe of a new colleague at Sharyland High School- where I had just started teaching.

Her name was Martha Louise Kendrick.

Martha Louise's recipe was certainly a method different than what my mother, grandmothers, or aunts used.

She wrapped her turkey in a cheesecloth that had been soaked in melted butter. 

This sounded very exotic to me, but I was determined to try.
This was of course long before cell phones, unlimited long distance, or Butterball hotlines.

I can't tell you if it was a success.

It was more like wrestling...

very slippery, buttery wrestling. 

But one thing happened that day.

I took a giant step away from the kids' table.

Epilogue

November 16, 2018

40 years later.

I just got back from the WalMart near our house after stopping by Albertson's and a WalMart in a different location.

I was on the hunt for a 24-25 pound Butterball turkey.

I learned years ago that if I am going to cook a turkey, we are going to have plenty to share with family members and to have as leftovers.

The nicest meat department manager was unboxing Butterballs.

I asked him for the size I wanted, and he found a 24 pound turkey , and it was on sale for 98 cents a pound.

At this stage in life, I think I am finally past worrying about poisoning everyone because of my rebellious thawing techniques. 

I have also learned in the last 40 years that at 5:00 am Thanksgiving morning when I am wrestling (once again) with the turkey, that that is a solitary sport.

I am grateful for that young woman wrestling in that kitchen 40 years ago, because she was learning then and gaining her adult footing.

I am grateful to Martha Louise Kendrick, and for all of the turkeys since then-

wrestling and all:)

 

 

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Finding Delight in Simple Things

The motto at Saint Mary's Hall- the girls' boarding school in San Antonio I attended for four years and graduated from was
                   

Teach Us to Delight in Simple Things. 

That was and never has been a hard concept for me to grasp.

I think it was in my DNA when I was born.

And so jump ahead many , many years from that graduation date to this blog White Spray Paint that I created long ago , and my tag line says it all. 

Here at White Spray Paint I share how I enjoy

Finding Delight in Simple Things.

Now please don't misunderstand.

This message of simple things is not about minimalism.

I do love simple things- all dolled up that is:)

And I may have used the expression 'more is more' a time or two in my life.

But this current holiday season reminds me of what this all means to me.

And so what does finding delight in simple things look like in my daily life?

Yesterday was a perfect example.

I woke up at 4:00 am ( a quirk in getting older), and I fixed a cup of my favorite coffee- Wal Mart's Colombian . 

I had several cups while sitting on my closet floor and sorting through my shoes.  

Everything hurts my feet these days (another quirk in getting older), but sorting my hurting shoes into donate piles felt right.

I was hungry around 6:00 am so I cooked bacon and eggs for breakfast. My husband was pleasantly shocked when he woke up later to a big breakfast.

And then the fun began.

A garage door repairman was due to arrive to replace our garage door opener , but first the garage needed to be emptied.

His words when he came by for an estimate may have included 
'M'am...I can't get to the garage door opener to replace it...'.

I hired two men that have worked for us many times to empty the garage because I just can't lift heavy things like I used to (another painful quirk in getting older- with the positive benefit of hiring someone).

And so the day went.

Days like this really make me happy.

I got to speak in Spanish , I laughed at what was found in the garage, I drank lots of icy cold Diet Orange Crushes that were in the garage refrigerator, and we were all working hard.

What a great day it was- for me and my personality-finding delight in simple things.

                    

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