Most of you know it as a turkey fryer.
It all started with needing to cook a turkey for our Thanksgiving feast. My good friend Bill (a.k.a. Vuk) had, for years, been exalting the virtues of deep friend turkey. So, I asked him if he minded cooking one of us.
“I would, but I’m going to be out of town. You’re more than welcome to use mine, though.”
When I went to pick it up he carefully explained all the ins and outs of deep frying a turkey. Seemed simple enough. Easy. That’s when he dropped the not-so-easy part. “Oh, and by the way,” he said as if an afterthought, “I usually deep fry all the turkeys for my family. You wouldn't mind to . . .”
Dateline: Our Backyard. Dawn. Thanksgiving Morning.
The Great Turkey Frying Marathon.
Bill doesn’t have a huge family, but they must have huge appetites. That, and the fact that the “Vuks” don’t do anything small. There were more turkeys in coolers to be fried than Swanson has turkey TV Dinners.
Throughout out the day, a parade of Vukovichs started showed up at our door wanting their turkeys. Sister, nieces, brother, father . . . even a guy whom I’d never met. And Bill promised him I’d have a cigar and beer ready for him—which I did. The final turkey was passed out sometime after sunset. By 6 o’clock, the only one left to fry was ours. We were running later than we had planned, but the epic tale of what “Uncle Bill” had put me through kept everyone in a comic mood. And when we finally did eat, all agreed that Vuk’s fried turkeys are, in fact, most delicious.
So, that's the short story of the first and only time I deep fried turkeys.
And that patch of scorched earth? That remains . . . a beautiful reminder of one of the most memorable Thanksgivings ever. A fun day filled with friends and family.
Happy Thanksgiving.
Carpe Diem Life,
David Kuhn
CarpeDiem-Life.com
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