Spatchcocking The Bird

It sounds like as much fun as it was.

I promised the BeckyLand readers immoderate amounts of information and photos from our Thanksgiving bacchanal, so here you go.

The word “spatchcock” — for those of you not up-to-date on archaic vocabulary —  is a combination of “dispatch” meaning to prepare poultry for cooking (including all the indelicate parts from killing to feathering to trimming; you know, the stuff you don’t want to know about) and “cock” meaning bird. Dispatch the cock. Spatchcock.

The more modern meaning would be “tell your husband to remove himself from the recliner because it’s time to fight with this slippery turkey and we have a zillion people coming over soon.”

Come. Join me on a pictorial tutorial through a half hour of our Thanksgiving morning. Apologies to my vegetarian friends and those foreigners who might not comprehend the desperate measures and sacrifices Americans make on this holiest of Eating Holidays.

Posing and dancing the bird on the counter is the first step. That’s how you know if it’s ripe.

Cut one side of the backbone …

… then the other …

… finally removing it altogether. Then hope your grandma doesn’t smite you from her heavenly perch for not saving it to make soup.

Almost spatched.

Turn it over. Maneuver it one last time in a demure pose. After all, how would you feel to be all naked on the kitchen counter like that?!

Press firmly on the sternum until it makes a delicious cracking sound. Like a really good chiropractic adjustment.

Spatched.

And posed one last time. Just because it’s fun.

Ready to cook …

Cooked. Quite delish.

The benefits to spatchcocking are numerous and include more than just getting to play with your food. Your turkey cooks in about half the time, but choose one that’s no more than 15 pounds. (This one was about 11 pounds. We did another one in the traditional way. You know, in a bag.) You can get the spices everywhere much easier. Breast and thighs are done at the same time. Crispier skin. Easier to carve. Guaranteed blog entry with maybe the extra bonus of angry vegetarian comments.

You will sacrifice the big Norman Rockwell presentation, but by the time that happens, everyone is all liquored up anyway and just wants to tear into a drumstick.

Chief Spatchcocker says I wouldn’t be able to do it myself but methinks he underestimates the mighty, mighty power of my willfullness. Or what I’d do for a blog entry.

So … what do you think? Will you spatchcock YOUR bird?

You Think YOUR Commute is Crazy

There’s a mass email floating around that says something like “The Road of Death in Bolivia” and it has photos of ridiculously dangerous roads.

But the tireless researchers here in BeckyLand have discovered it’s a combination of a bunch of crazy roads around the world. We’ve sorted it all out for you.

You’re welcome.

This is the Guoliang Tunnel in China … perfectly safe. Carved by the people of the village between 1972 and 1977. Before they had that, the only way to their village was by a stairway carved into the mountain.

Perhaps this next place was how the Guoliang villagers got home each night before they dug their tunnel. This is also in China – in case you ever want to stroll around Mount Hua. Read this guy’s account of taking that little hike. My palms were sweaty just looking at the pictures!

This is a road in Bolivia …

This road is in Russia. Ironically, easier to navigate in the winter.

So, how do you feel about YOUR commute? What’s your worst commuting story?

Dinner Last Night

I’m not a fancy girl, but I went to a fancy dinner last night. It was part of Denver Wine Week and we were invited by our pal, Captain Vino, Man-About-Town and Wine Guy Extraordinaire.

Hubbie and I put on real clothes and I even slapped on some make-up and high heels. When I was done, my 17-year-old son proclaimed me — and I quote — “stunning.”

He was being sarcastic, of course, but it still counts as a compliment because he said it out loud and I averted my eyes so as not to see the eye roll that accompanied it. If you don’t see it, it never happened.

Dinner was held at the gorgeous Opus Restaurant, closed for the evening for our soiree, entitled The Loire Valley Grand Vintners Dinner. It included representatives from the Loire Valley Wine Bureau talking about the wine presented at each course, the region in France that produces it and why it was paired with a particular food.

I believe it was the first time I used a map to follow along with my dinner. (All those times at Denneys don’t count because we really were lost.) And if you don’t count my mother at Thanksgiving, it was also the first time a chef had plopped himself down at our table to chat after preparing the meal.

Here’s the menu … I know I made it too big and it has screwed up your screen, but I wanted you to be able to read it.

It was a full evening for us. We enjoyed delicious food and drink, met new people, visited a restaurant we hadn’t been before and we also got to tell our favorite jokes.

Hubbie got to introduce me as his first wife (see, it’s funny because — oh, never mind) and when people learned we had our anniversary recently, I was able to say, “We’ve had 25 great years — 15 for him, 10 for me.”

And, because this was a four-hour dinner, I also got to use this variation …

Me: “We’ve been married 25 years.”

Complete stranger, trying to be polite: “How nice!”

Me, pretending to be horrified: “Oh! Not to each other!”

Let me just say that every dinner should include great conversation with interesting people, five types of wine, an artistic array of scallops, AND cranberry froth.

But then I guess it wouldn’t be special. Like having your son say you look stunning.

What did you have for dinner last night?

25 Years

Today is my 25^th wedding anniversary. By coincidence, it’s also my husband’s. It’s like we planned it or something.

By tradition, 25 years of wedded bliss is celebrated as the “Silver Anniversary.” Neither one of us is very romantic — we have a much more practical bent plus we’re lazy. So very lazy. But this year I thought I’d try to surprise him with something different so I hopped online to find some ways to celebrate.

These are some of the ideas I found:

• Use sparkly silver glitter on flowers, cards, centerpieces, gift wrap, balloons, etc. Set the table with a paper silver tablecloth, rent china and crystal with a silver or chrome trim, use silver looking votive candles, place flowers in silver colored vases.

…. Or I could sprinkle glitter on the four-day-old pile of newspapers that has become our centerpiece. Maybe lighting them on fire would add a cozy, romantic touch.

• Toast one another with Champagne.

…. We already do this one. A lot. But mostly just when we toss another beer bottle in the trashcan, causing a lovely clinking sensation. Or is that when an angel gets its wings?

• Plan a picnic with paper silver-colored plates and cups.

…. Maybe, but neither one of us actually wants to go on a picnic in November in Colorado. But I’ll certainly consider planning one. The gift, I suppose, would be when I laid out the plans, saw his horrified face, then told him he didn’t have to go. Priceless.

• Purchase tickets for a movie, sports event, concert, theatre, etc. and wrap with a silver ribbon or place in a silver box.

…. We do this all the time. We tend to wrap them up in credit card receipts, though.

• Plan a trip to Silver Springs in Maryland or Florida, Silverstrand Beach in California or Ireland, or to a Silver Mine.

…. Or we could find everything on Netflix with Ron Silver, Sarah Silverman, Alicia Silverstone and Phil Silvers and have a marathon.

• Put together a CD with songs from the era of the marriage date.

…. Um … that’s pretty much all the music we have.

• Assemble a memory photo album with pictures highlighting 25 years together. Include the wedding, children, grandchildren, friends, trips taken together, homes lived in, etc. A nice addition is to include stories from children and friends.

…. Feeling smug about this one as we’ve been making photo albums for more than 25 years. We never look at them, however, because if you disturb the dust you sneeze for a month. (And really? People need to be told what to put in a photo album??)

• Create a poem, write it in silver ink, and display it in a silver colored frame.

…. I tried this one, but I’m not sure —

There once was a couple from Denver

Who loved to watch Netflix like “Ben Hur”

They secured a good date

But the mailman’s too late

And they couldn’t quite find a new vendor

• Put together a family quilt comprised of each square done by a family member or close friends.

…. Okay, just let me get started. Probably won’t take too long. I have a couple hours till dinner.

• Make a wish tree. You can use a big branch that you paint silver and decorate with silver ribbons, ornaments etc. Fill the branches with pictures of major events in your life, people who love and cherish you as well as tickets for a trip, travelers checks, gift certificates for different events and restaurants you could use on a trip, etc.

…. This one baffles me. What exactly would you be wishing for? That your life was different and didn’t have all these icky events and people who love you? That your anniversary was closer to Christmas so you wouldn’t have to haul yet another big tree into your house? That you could actually spend the travelers checks and gift certificates instead of impaling them on a dead branch in your living room? Pass.

None of these really speak to me as the best way to celebrate our 25 official years together.

Instead, I think I’ll find a shiny quarter — so simple, yet so symbolic — and we’ll flip it.

Heads does the laundry, tails cleans the kitchen.

Bonus photos!

This photo doesn’t do it justice, but see this enormous train and veil? It weighed at least 75 pounds and took 14 festively dressed Guatemalan children to wrestle it into place. But it segues nicely into the next photo, one of my favorites ….

That’s me and my dad trying to squeeze through the church doors without wrecking the dress or any of the Guatemalan children. Our hearts weren’t bursting with love for the photographer just then. It makes me laugh every time I remember it. I’m just glad the music was loud enough to cover our cursing.

What do you think makes for a worthy 25^th Anniversary celebration?

How To Be 78 Years Old

I recently had the opportunity to spend both quality and quantity time with my mother while she recovered from surgery. Her recovery took about eight seconds — for which I’m very thankful — but then I got snowed in at her house.

Here’s a photo of her bedquarters. [Get it?? Like headquarters?? Oh, I crack me up.]

From this command center she was able to direct and supervise all activities. Like me clearing two feet of snow off my car.

Spending this much time in her home was illuminating because I hadn’t lived with my mother since about 1982. Also because for about that same amount of time, I’ve been the oldest person I’ve lived with.

My mother has taught me many valuable lessons over the years, some of which I’ll share.

• Don’t giggle and fidget in church, but if you can’t help yourself, scoot over near another family so as not to shame us.

• Red wine vinegar is not the same as red wine.

• When arriving home after a long car trip, no one uses the bathroom until the car is unpacked.

• If you pay a kid a quarter for every tick they find on themselves after camping, they’re likelier to inspect their nooks and crannies more diligently. Plus, they’ll also check the dog.

As you can see, she’s a wise and wonderful woman.

And now she’s taught me something else … how to be a 78-year-old.

If you would like to act 78 years old, this will get you started…

1. Get up at 4 a.m., make a pot of coffee and read for three hours. Then go back to bed, making it seem like you get up early AND sleep late simultaneously.
2. Upon waking, immediately turn on the TV and make a full pot of coffee.
3. Eat constantly, but only tiny dabs of this or that.
4. Coffee, coffee and more coffee.
5. Watch TV but only for about 90 seconds at a time because everything reminds you of a story … or something you need to remember … or a question you’ve been wondering about for several years. Glance wistfully at your computer, knowing all answers live there, but also knowing said answers prefer to hide from you.
6. Turn the coffeepot off.
7. Two minutes later, brew a cup of tea.
8. Make sure you are — this appears to be of the utmost importance — make sure you are AT ALL TIMES within three feet of a box of Kleenex. If you think you’ll breach that perimeter, pluck a couple and shove them into your pocket or your sleeve or between two buttons on your shirt.
9. If you don’t bathe by noon, just take a “PTA Bath” reminding yourself that the mailman doesn’t care how you look. [Hint: The A stands for armpits, but the P and the T are not words an elderly woman with a proper upbringing should say. Except to her daughter. Who will crack up and tell all her friends what a hoot it is when old ladies lose their inhibitions.]
10. More coffee.
11. Even though you’ve cooked two-and-a-half million chickens for Sunday dinner in the last 50+ years, confess you never really liked to eat fried chicken. This makes your daughter feel guilty. Especially after she buys fried chicken to stock the fridge during your recovery.
12. When recovering from surgery, eschew stairs, Scrabble and salt. But not sherry.

My mom rocks.

What will you do when you are 78 years old?

Halloween Pets 2

I posted some Halloween pets yesterday, too. I’m a bit ashamed to say I’m a grown woman who takes great delight in animals wearing clothes. I was going to say it started with Wishbone, but it occurs to me I have photos somewhere of our Golden Retriever and our German Shepherd wearing sundresses and beads.

Don’t judge me!

Okay. I think I got it out of my system. I think my favorite in this bunch is the Pilgrim and the Indian. Yours?

They Love Us Anyway

As if it’s not bad enough we make them eat out of a bowl on the floor, we do this to them too …

Favorite? I have more for tomorrow …

Changed My Mind

I decided not to move my blog so just ignore the indecisive blogger waving her arms like a madwoman behind the curtain there. It wasn’t because it was too difficult … well, it might have been, but I didn’t get that far. I’m starting up a new enterprise which you’ll hear about in due course and I thought it would make sense to move this blog to practice with all the bells and whistles at the new place.

Not so much.

So I’ll just wait and start up the new one in the new place.

Curious about my traffic while I wasn’t posting, I checked my stats. Imagine my surprise that I get just as many readers when I post as when I don’t. About 100/day.

What might that mean?

One Moment, Please …

Just a heads up to all my loyal readers. And to you not-so-loyal ones, too.

I’m switching this blog over from wordpress.com to wordpress.org for a variety of reasons I won’t bore you with today. I have absolutely no clue as to how to accomplish this lofty goal, however, so I might be floating around the bloggy heavens for ten minutes or ten days.

I hope it’s closer to ten minutes, but that’s probably not quite realistic as I’m going to eat lunch now. I don’t work through my lunch. I sometimes lunch through my work, but never the reverse.

I guess all I can do is guarantee I’ll see ya’ll somewhere on the flip side. For those of you who subscribe or visit BeckyLand on an RSS feed, if there is anything you need to do to continue your daily fix of The Becky, I’ll be sure to let you know.

Wish me luck!

Where Is Matt?

What is it about this video that makes me cry every time I watch it?

But these outtakes make me laugh??