The difference between putting a golden, succulent Butterball on the table, and putting a wild turkey on the table, is the difference between driving to the grocery store, or lying in wait, patient and ignoring all discomforts (and they are legion)—for the wily, wild turkey to stroll into your gunsight.
To cook a wild turkey, Pop skinned the whole bird and soaked it over-night in buttermilk. Then he wrapped it in bacon, with a cut up apple and onion on the inside, or a handful of chopped celery and green onions, and carefully roasted it. He was a free-style cook when it came to wild turkey, and it might vary from year to year.
He didn’t do all those fancy things that other cooks do to turkeys, except to put it on a handsome platter, with a well-sharpened knife and fork along side. And by “well-sharpened,” I mean you could do surgery with it. Hendrick men can sharpen a knife until the edge disappears into infinity.
No matter what else was on the table, we all took a serving of Pop’s turkey (you would have too). Would you like dark meat, or darker meat? For me, it was a reminder of hard times, and good times. Hard times, you know, to find wild turkey on your plate.
Good times—dear God in Heaven! What a blessing—to have wild turkey on your plate.
Whatever is on your plate today, I hope you will Praise God from whom all blessings flow.