Turkey Trot

About a week ago, while rummaging around in my basement freezer, I counted three turkeys.

I guess every year at Thanksgiving when turkeys are $5 each, I buy an extra one. So with a couple of new turkeys for this year looming on the horizon, I decided that an old turkey would have to be used this week.
The 24 pound beast sat in my fridge until Friday, when I decided that it could wait no longer, and must be cooked.

So I slid it into an oven bag, and pushed it into my oven to cook for the required 3 hours the box had specified. I got the table set - fancier than usual because, well, it's a turkey. I started a pie, peeled potatoes, and laid out some better-than-usual green salads on little salad plates, because I refer you again to the fact that it's a turkey. Also apparently I'm an overachiever. But if you were cooking a turkey tonight, what would you have with it?

See what I mean?



The timer finally rang, so I pulled that baby out of the oven, which isn't really as easy as it sounds. I have one of those double ovens that's the same size as a regular oven, but instead of the storage drawer on the bottom it's the second oven. (does that make any sense?) Anyway, my big oven is on the bottom, so the turkey pan is literally about 3 inches off the floor when it's in there baking. Anyway, I practically had to kneel down to get enough leverage on the thing to bring it out of the oven, but I wrestled it out of there and set it on the stove.

The thermometer actually laughed at me, that turkey was so not done, so back into the oven it went.

Apparently, when they tell you to tuck the bag in around the turkey, they really know what they're talking about.

I forgot to do that part.

So about 10 minutes later, I started smelling this kind of burning smell, which I attributed to something on the pan or burner that was now boiling the potatoes.

Five minutes later, I noticed some smoke coming from the oven. It occurred to me that that was not a good sign, but before I opened the oven, I ran upstairs to turn on the attic fan, so that the smoke would be sucked out before it hit our ubersensitive smoke alarm.

Naturally during the 20 seconds that took, the smoke alarms started going off.

Can I just pause here to tell you about our smoke alarms? All the alarms in the house are wired together, so if one goes off, they all go off. They are the loudest things I have ever... and then they don't go off for a good minute after the smoke is cleared.

Anyway, The Brain made it to the kitchen about the same time I did. I yelled above the din

Get the turkey out of the oven!

He grabbed the hot pads, I opened the oven, and as we were staring in amazement at the sheer amount of smoke pouring out of there, the bottom of the oven burst into flames.

Big flames!

So he went to grab the turkey, and I ran (about 3 feet) for the fire extinguisher.

And then apparently, as The Brain pulled the turkey from the inferno, the pan tipped slightly, dumping more grease out of the hole in the turkey bag and into the oven, and then the flames started coming out of the oven and licking the stove top.

For the love of all that is holy, I could NOT get the fire extinguisher out of it's holder.

I'm screaming

I can't get it! I can't do it!

And The Brain was frantically looking for a place to put the turkey down. Every single surface was covered. But it didn't stop him from running all the way around the island in the kitchen, looking desperately for a place to put that thing down, grease pouring out of the hole in the bag with every step he took.

In the meantime, the flames coming out of the oven were -and I swear by heaven and swiss cheese - they were 4 feet tall.

I finally managed to get the fire extinguisher off the wall. I aimed. I fired. Nothing happened.
At this point I'm screaming

"It won't work! It won't work! Put that thing in the sink and HELP ME!"

Remember the world's loudest smoke alarms are still screeching at full volume.

To his credit, The Brain did not just DUMP that whole pan of turkey into the sink like I would have, but quickly balanced it on the side of the sink and came to rescue me from the flames and the stupid fire extinguisher. WHICH WAS EMPTY.

The flames were still huge and getting bigger, so I went to at least close the door to the oven, but once my forward momentum was started, found myself sliding through the grease and couldn't stop.
You know how things sort of go into slow motion at critical times in your life? I was in perfect slow motion, flailing toward the fire pit as if I were on roller skates, clutching at anything that might stop me, when I felt The Brain grab the back of my my pants and in one wedgiefying movement saved me from a fiery death.

I slammed the door closed as long as I was over there, and also managed to turn off the gas to the oven.

We stood there watching the fire smother to death, and turned to survey the kitchen. There was layer of smoke at the ceiling, the floor was covered - and I mean covered - in turkey grease, but we sighed in relief as we couldn't see any signs of serious damage. Well, I sighed. I'm assuming the Brain sighed, too, but since the smoke alarms were still broadcasting the news to our neighbors, I didn't actually hear it.

That was about the time Mimi and Lizzie came moseying into the kitchen saying

Hey! Can you turn off that stupid noise?

Oh yeah. Yeah, sure girls. Is that bothering you? I'll get right on it. AS SOON AS I PUT OUT THE HOUSE FIRE AND CLEAN THE SINGED HAIR OFF MY ARMS AND SEE IF DAD STILL HAS EYEBROWS. I'll get right on that for ya.



Anyway... How was YOUR weekend?



*edited to add that we're all fine, and we're all still laughing about it!