Getting out of bed was rough this morning, especially because I was having a semi-scandalous dream about a girl from high school disappearing. I was driving around in a Hummer (that was the semi-scandalous part) looking for this girl when we came upon her twin. In real life she doesn’t have a twin… or does she?
The dog has taken my place as Supreme Bed Hog Overlord. And because she is so soft and cute and manipulative, I let her. This makes me very, very thankful when 4:30am rolls around and Louie gets up for the day, taking Supreme Bed Hog Overlord with him, leaving me, Under-Secretary Bed Hog, to do my leg splaying and arm spreading in peace. I think it might be a problem when a 30 pound dog is dictating your sleep schedule and making you ponder buying a bigger bed. Especially when you already have a queen sized bed that is perfectly comfortable and big. What the Supreme Bed Hog Overlord demands, we mere mortal Under-Secretaries must deliver.
I’m still baffled at the length of time it takes to roast a turkey. It’s a really long time, and we all put up with it. Even if we don’t really like turkey all that much. Tradition really has us hung here. Next year maybe I’ll do 10 little Cornish game hens, then everyone can have their own little bird and be happy. And it won’t take ten million years to get the temperature to reach bacteria killing levels. And another thing - Why, I ask you, does the breast need to be hotter than the thighs? What level of bacteria is lurking in the breast that needs an extra 10 degrees of temp?
This is the best turkey I’ve ever had, by the way. I don’t know if it was the copious amount of salt and butter I slathered all over the thing, or the breast down roasting, or my culinary prowess (it wasn’t that) but the leftovers are being closely guarded and turkey levels are being monitored, lest Louie eat more turkey than I deem entirely fair. The carcass is still chilling in the fridge waiting to be made into soup, but I was a little daunted by the 4 hour simmer time for the damn thing and it might have to wait until next weekend to be soupified.
I think I might be on to something in the kitchen. I wish I could find a way to get paid to sit around in my pajamas all day reading recipes, sipping coffee and warming my feet on a little black dog. Make it happen, Universe!