Last Friday, while in Kalamazoo, my sister-in-law, Tera, made a delicious and very traditional dinner.  I can’t say enough about how great a cook she is.  She’s one of the best I know, hands down.  Then again, my perspective might be a little skewed because my mother is such a terrible cook and I suffered throughout my entire childhood.  Think that’s harsh?  One taste of her “bacon-eggplant pie” and you’ll know how serious I am.  In any case, I had been thinking about Tera’s cooking for weeks before the trip and we had managed to get a “free” turkey from our local supermarket, so we stuffed the bird in the trunk (pun fully intended) and headed out west.  The dinner was everything I had hoped for: green-bean casserole, corn-bake, stuffing, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce and all those other things that a spanish kid from Jersey only ever sees on TV.  Everything was perfect (except for the “floor-tatoes” that “someone” managed to drop) and then, it happened.  Dinner came to a crashing halt as screams of terror emanating from the kitchen pierced the cold Michigan air (actually, it was mad hot in that house).  My wife called me into the kitchen and I could sense the panic in her voice.  As I arrived on the scene, I saw my sister-in-law, knife-in hand with a wide-eyed look on her face, staring down at what had once been a beautiful turkey, and I knew what the problem was.  Someone had attempted to remove the meat from a drumstick, but the results looked like they belonged in a Thanksgiving taco.  It was clear that no one knew how to properly carve a turkey.

 If you think about it, it’s easy to see why many people, even those who are pretty handy in the kitchen, don’t know how to carve a bird.  We’ve become completely shielded from the origins of our food.  If you go to the supermarket, you can get any cut of meat, skinless, pre-seasoned, de-boned, thin-sliced, dyed pretty colors and shrink-wrapped in a pastel foam tray without having to give a second thought to where your disembodied chicken breast came from.  Sure, it’s convenient, but it also widens the disconnect we have with the world around us. 

 Today, we have many choices when it comes to what we eat, but once upon a time, everyone had to hunt, gather, process and cook their own food.  Many of these tasks fell to the male of the species, including the distribution of a carcass among his family members.  In fact, in the Bible, the first mention of man eating animals occurs after the Great Flood, when God told Noah it was OK to eat animals, so long as their blood had been drained.  No doubt Noah’s family looked to him for direction when it came time for that first meaty meal.  I often wonder what it might have been like… (cue flashback sequence music)

 - Well, kids we made it through the flood.  That ark held up nicely.  Shem, good work on the waterproofing. Now, who’s hungry?  C’mon, line it up.  Everyone gets a hunk of cow.

 - Dad, I don’t like mine, it’s wiggly.

 - Well, trade with your brother.

 - I’ll trade! I like mine wiggly, I think.  Wait, is it free-range cow hunk?

 - Uh, no, it’s ark-raised, remember?

 - Yeah, no, that’s unsanitary.

 - But, you were the one in charge of cleaning the stables!

 - Yeah, about that… Hey how ‘bout those Nephilim, eh?  They really sank like stones, hehe. Hehe. Errr.
 
 - Dad, Ham stuck his finger in my cow hunk!

 - Umm, Noah?  Is it possible to get a low-sodium alternative?

 - Why, of course daughter-in-law.  Let me just mosey on over to the local Trader Joe’s.  Oh wait.  It’s under hundreds of feet of water. And we’re stuck on a mountain top.  Four thousand years too soon.  Eat your cow hunks, all of you!

 The Bible goes on to say that Noah proceeded to plant a vineyard and drink of the wine, but it’s unclear as to why.

 Right, anyway, it’s clear that the portioning and distribution of the meat was a manly tradition established centuries ago that survives to this very day, and every man should familiarize himself with the process.  The following is a step-by-step break-down on how it’s done:

 Step 1:  Let the bird rest.

 You might be tempted to slice into that puppy as soon as it’s out of the oven.  We here at RSDII recommend that you A) don’t eat puppies and B) let the bird sit for 10 to 15 minutes before carving it.  For larger birds, you should wait even longer.  The reason is that the juices inside the turkey are still boiling and cooking the meat.  If you allow them time to cool off, they will be re-absorbed into the meat and make for a much “moistier” meal.  While it’s resting, you should gather your carving paraphernalia:  a large cutting board with a groove for catching juices, a sharp boning knife, carving knife and fork, as well as a serving platter.

 Step 2: Off with its legs!

 Roll up your sleeves, it’s carvin’ time.  Grab a drumstick by the end and pull it away from the body while carefully cutting the skin near the joint with the boning knife.  You should be able to see down to the joint where the thigh meets the body.  Place the knife against the joint and give it a twist while pulling the leg away and the joint should just pop right out.  Carefully, cut and separate the leg from the body and then separate the drum from the thigh using the same technique.  The drumstick can be served “caveman style” so you can place it on one end of the serving platter at this point.  The thighs have a single, easy-to-remove bone in them, so carve the meat away in serving size pieces until you can get to it.  Once it’s out, carve the rest of the thigh meat and place it next to the drumsticks.

 Step 3:  Wings.

 Removing the wings is very similar to the technique used for the legs.  Pull, cut, separate, pop joint and enjoy.  Place these next to the thigh meat or directly onto the plate of your enemy.

 Step 4:  Breast meat.

 Once upon a time, I used to cut the slices off directly from the bird.  This is nice when you’re carving at a table, but table space is precious and “greasy knives take lives” (I just made that up), so instead I remove the breast whole and then slice it up.  Start by making a cut along the breast bone and just off to the side of it with the boning knife.  Slowly cut deeper and deeper as you pull the breast away from the bone.  You should end up with one clean hunk of meat.  Slice it up long-ways like a loaf of bread with the carving knife.  Use long, even strokes and utilize the entire edge of the knife to reduce crumbling.  Even though you get smaller slices this way, they’re much juicier than traditionally cut ones.  Only carve as much as you plan to eat.  If there’s enough meat on the platter for everyone with just one breast, keep the other one in tact until you plan to eat it.  It stays juicier this way. 

 A few additional notes:

 - Don’t go straight for the white meat.  Dark meat is more flavorful.  Leave the delicate, tastes-like-everything breast meat for the ladies at the table.

 - If you’re carving at the table, the best piece goes to the woman who made the meal.  If the meal was made by a man, give it to the eldest woman at the table.  If you’re not sure whether the person who made the meal is a man or a woman, politely excuse yourself and then run away.  Those are the rules. 

 - Use your hands.  Remember, you’re tearing an animal limb from limb.  Now is not the time to be dainty. 

- The fork should only be used to steady the bird, not stab it.  Try not to poke any holes in the turkey.

 - If you’re having Tofurky, skip straight to step 5.  What?  No step 5?  Aww, shucks.