A defense of Thanksgiving turkey

It’s always been puzzling that on Thanksgiving, a day when Americans are supposed to appreciate all they have in life, we are supposed to eat turkey, a big bird that deserves little to no thanks.

The nicest thing one can say about turkey is that it’s not dry, a compliment that indicates that the bird does not taste like biting into desert sand — how turkey usually is unless it’s brined, basted, buttered to a point, thankfully, beyond resemblance. There are even instances where, in a desperate effort to impart more flavor onto the flavorless bird by deep-frying it, Americans have set their houses ablaze.

Equally frustrating is that there’s a plethora of more delicious meats to choose from. Turkey would make sense if Americans were limited hunters and poor fishermen. But we are far removed from those times and have ample access to lamb, steak, pork, and oceanic jewels like lobster, scallops, and shrimp.

There is, however, a bright side to turkey’s natural blandness. Because turkey lacks so much flavor, Americans have had to create delicious side dishes. It’s not unlike the observation from my mother that the most beautiful people never had to develop resourcefulness, because they are so beautiful. Mashed potatoes and green bean casserole wouldn’t taste as delicious as they do if turkey was decent. Turkeys have made us a resourceful people.

What would be more thankful would be celebrating a main that tastes good on its own. If people loved turkey the way they say they do, why is there only one day a year when people prepare it whole? Wouldn’t you want to eat something allegedly delicious at least a few times a year?

Yet, in the spirit of Thanksgiving and the importance of understanding the world around me, I wanted to speak to someone who allegedly genuinely enjoys a Thanksgiving turkey. One of those people is Vox political reporter and turkey lover Christian Paz. Paz enlightened me about the joy of the bird, the tradition that comes with it and how to make it not taste parched and woody. Perhaps, more importantly, why, in this world full of superior meats, would you still eat turkey on Thanksgiving? This interview has been lightly edited for clarity.

Christian, please tell me about why you like turkey.

I love Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving is about turkey. I am a traditionalist. I stand by tradition.

But, also, I really do love the big ol’ “bird on a table” iconography, so maybe part of it is that I have been brainwashed.

Turkey is trad.

Turkey is trad, and trad is ok. But if we’re being serious, it’s very versatile!

What about the idea that turkey is dry — that it takes so much preparation of brining, basting, roasting, etc. just to make NOT dry?

There are two ways I could rebut this.

Sure, go ahead. Roast me.

One is to be honest but a little harsh: You’re just not cooking turkey the right way.

The other way is to say that, yeah, you might be right. Turkey can come out pretty dry, and it does require quite a bit of work, patience, and time, which can be hard if you’re cooking for a big group. So much of it does involve going low and slow and letting it rest.

Christian, fire departments across this great nation have to film and distribute PSAs to families about the dangers of deep-frying your turkey. People are setting their homes on fire to impart more flavor onto this bird. Isn’t that a sign that turkey is a low-tier meat?

This doesn’t happen with ham.

Well, I won’t comment on deep-fried turkeys. I’m not a fan of that, to be honest. I don’t know about that aspect of our American culture. I will say, I have burned myself making hams.

Can I ask, how do you prepare your turkey?

Yes, of course.

Well, you wanna make sure you just lather that baby up. On the outside. In the cavity. Yes, yes I am here.

Not this.

Okay, but actually, I have done two methods that have been praised and loved. Surprise, I love the Alison Roman recipe. The other one is a combo of a Martha Stewart and an Ina Garten recipe, but it involves lots of butter.

Allegedly, they — Martha Stewart and Ina Garten — do not like each other. Again, this seems like an awful lot of work to make the turkey palatable. No one is dousing a ham in pounds of butter.

Lord.

Last question: If turkey wasn’t available for Thanksgiving, what meat would you want instead? Lamb? Steak?

Oh, probably just a roast chicken, but with Alison Roman’s stuffing. I am not really a steak person, but I love a thigh, I love a wing, and I love juicy, white turkey meat.

Sorry! I’m Catholic!

I grew up Catholic, too. Should we be eating more fish?

Only on Fridays. Though, I do love salmon.

Ah yes, salmon: the turkey of the sea.