From Henrietta to Kate

After discovering our turkey to be all skin and bones, the family discussed our options. I asked Hubby if it were possible to go to Rawalpindi to get a nice plump chicken to roast beside Henrietta. A roasting chicken couldn't be purchased from any of the neighborhood chicken sellers since they don't have the equipment to defeather the bird they pull off all the skin- unacceptable for roasting. Only a poultry college in 'Pindi had such equipment, but because Hubby was sick with bronchitis, and Zaman was working his shift at the family restaurant, we had no one to send.

Owl told us about turduckins, turkeys stuffed with chickens stuffed with ducks, but we didn't have access to a duck either. But that idea lead to another. Could we give our Henrietta breast implants? We would have to change her name to Pamela, but I don't think she would mind. We called the family restaurant to see if they had a couple of extra chicken breasts they could donate to the cause, but no such luck. They had none to spare.

Daunted, we gave up and roasted Henrietta as she was. Our much maligned turkey made her debut on the holiday table. As predicted, she was all bone. We decided she did need a name change after all and redubbed her Kate Moss. Crayon took a photo with her mobile phone, and I need to fingure out if she has downloading capabilities.

Carving the bird was so strange. Usually you take a horizontal cut at the bottom of the breast and then 4 or 5 verticle cuts, however, she was so thin that I only got 2 thin cuts on each side of the breast before hitting the wall. Each of us took one small piece of meat, and then gorged ourselves on the ample sidedishes. Zaman tackled one of the drumsticks and commented it was more like eating the wing than a leg.

In keeping with the Rumi poem posted on the refrigerator - Hungry, you are a dog, angry and bad-natured. Having eaten your fill, you become a carcass: you lie down like a wall, senseless. At one time a dog, at another time a carcass, how will your run with the lions, or follow the saints? - we became overstuffed carcasses after the meal.

The guys went back to their movie, and we girls held a carcass convention on my waterbed. We rolled about, moaning, and bemoaning our lack of control, told funny stories that made our aching tummies hurt even more when we laughed, fell under the spell of turkey induced sleep thanks to the sorporific amino acid, tryptophane.

But in the true spirit of the holiday, a meal was eaten and enjoyed by family and friends. I want to thank my daughters Abez and Owl for all their help in with the cooking, my guys (Hubby and Zaman) for dressing up the for meal and leaving a Jackie Chan movie on the TV to join us, and friends Chai and Crayon for joining us with their warm and witty sleves.