So, I decided to make a thanksgiving meal for the first time in 25 years. I decided to thank the teachers I work with and see if I can somehow play the Macy’s NY parade on U-Tube to show them what we watch.

At first, I thought no it’s too much work as I have a kitchen the size of a closet, and stove with everything in Celsius, a smoke detector that goes off when I make toast and a fridge that is half the size of an American one. How can I cook in there?

Plus, having traveled every thanksgiving for years I have not been home to cook anything for Thanksgiving in so many years I don’t know anything except how to order a turkey sandwich on Uber Eats in the US.

So I emailed the three teachers I worked with and made the plunge with an invite after one too many wines. ” Thanksgiving at my apartment” please come! I texted in my wine-induced state. And they all said yes!!!

Great. Time to plan when there is no Walmart to buy poultry seasoning and no Lubys for a pre-made Thanksgiving meal.

First off, there are no turkeys in the stores, no butterballs all neatly frozen and pre-injected with salt water to make them juicy with a built-in plastic thermometer and the neck and gizzards nicely wrapped inside.

There are no boxes of dressing to throw in a pan.

No mushroom soup to make green bean casserole except some powdered fake stuff I found. Nope, not doing it if it ain’t Campbells.

No cranberries for sauce. None, zip, nada. No canned sauce either. All I found was some dried cranberries (craisins). Umm, how do I make a sauce with dried craisins?

Maybe I should have investigated my options before drinking.

Sweet potatoes? Yes, they are here! but candied walnuts or marshmallows on top? Stop right there. Nope.  How do I candy walnuts? Hell, this is getting complicated. And do I need brown sugar somewhere? Maybe I did the invite too soon. Damn that wine.

Low and Behold:  another aux said there is a store called the “flying tiger” in another city that sells giant marshmallows. But the miniatures? Nope. If I can get them I’ll have to cut em up in pieces so they won’t look like nice little puffy balls but torn-up marshmallow hunks. That’s if I can even get them.

Mashed potatoes? Yes, I can get some white potatoes.

Gravy? Nope, also not a thing. Luckily my friend from the US was here recently and brought me some gravy packets. Ok not the best, but better than nothing seeing how I don’t have cornstarch and don’t know how to make any from drippings anyway.

Green beans? Yes, phew. Worse case I can steam them with some salt and pepper and olive oil. I’m thinking maybe throw on some mushrooms and almond slivers. Whoops, wait, there’s no slivers here. Only whole raw almonds. Im not about to try and cut them up, I have a history with fingers and knives.

Dressing? There’s plenty of bread here alright. I just need to slice bread up and dry it out it said on Google. But white or wheat? Or baguets, Rye, or what?

I got friends who will get back to me on this. Oh how I wish for Walmart. A box is so easy.

Poultry seasoning? Not a thing either at least no McCormick we all grew up with. The Spanish version is called “pollo asado  salvado” but it’s not the same, and is salty as hell.

So I got a list of herbs I need from google to make my own seasoning. I translated them all and went shopping. Umm, I only found 3 of the 5 needed. And the big one: sage.  Not here. Then low and behold another friend said buy “sage tea.”I said why? To help my pending headache?

“No she said, it’s the dried sage in the teabags! Well, who knew I said. I’ll just rip them open and use the rest for my headache.

So off I went to find them. Umm five stores later, nothing. Ginger tea, laxative tea, rosemary tea, mint tea. No sage.  Damn. Then an organic store that sells CBD oil. No, I didn’t go in for that although maybe it could help my mounting irritation. But they had a big bag of dried sage; sticks, leaves and all. I took it. ok, I’ll mix my own poultry seasoning for sure now! I can do this! I’ll grind it all up per google instructions! It will be better than McCormick. Surely, I learned something in chemistry class and can manage this with no problem!

Except I have no grinder. No pestle and mortar. But I discovered I can hand-ground the stuff with a bowl, a metal sieve, and a plastic nutmeg container. I was pretty proud of myself in attempting to be a self- made herbalist until I started getting sage powder everywhere and had a coughing attack. Then to top it, in the middle of it all the lid came off the nutmeg container I was using , and half the nutmeg went in the sage contaminating my first ever batch of hand ground sage. I was so annoyed as it took near an hour through coughing fits to grind the stuff and then I had to do it all over. Next time I’ll just start with more wine and a mask . Where’s my niece the smudging queen of herbs when I need her? Oh wait she lives in the US.

And then, the pièce de résistance:

The turkey!

So everything is metric here so I tapped my buddies again, who said 5 Kilos is big enough to feed 6 people.

I got the calculator and it seemed thats about 11 lbs.

Ok, I passed my first test using a calculator, Yes I went to school even if you can’t tell.

Now, where to buy a turkey?

I was told I can only buy it at a butcher. There are no turkeys at the stores. Butterball is not here so quit looking..

They must order it, kill it and sell it to you. Talk about fresh. Please don’t let me pick who’s the dead bird walking from the farm I’m thinking. If I see it alive I’ll want to name it. Then I’ll want to rescue it and take it to the park and set it free. Then that just defeates the purpose doesn’t it?

Ok, I said I’ll do it. I’ll order it as long as I don’t see its face.

Well, turns out that if you don’t ask, it will come with its head, feet and feathers!

Wtf? This isn’t a farm. Why order it if I have to finish the details? And who orders them that way anyway? Isn’t it the butcher’s job to do the dirty work? Clean it, pluck it, be- head it?

So I was told to tell them “limpiar por favor” (clean it) or they won’t. It will just be a dead bird with no guts. Um really? No neatly wrapped giblets in the bag inside to make gravy with? No clean white featherless shiny skin? No, just dead and staring at you. Got it?

Ive never seen a turkey before it was a frozen butterball. Its gonna be fresh from the farm? I said to my friend. “Yup from the butcher to you” she said. Oh no……I feel like I just found out Santa isn’t real.

Great, what am I going to get? I wondered. Please don’t let it be a dead bird with its head flopping around and its feet wagging out of the bag.

So I’m paranoid the butcher place won’t understand my Spanish for “no head and no feet” etc. So I got out my google translate and typed up “I need to order a 5 kg turkey, cleaned, with no head and feathers please” to make sure they understood for sure. I bolded the no head and feather part.

So, I wander in a local butcher someone recommended. It was small with two long glass counters, with various hams and meats to choose from. It was very clean, fresh smelling and organized looking.  A nice slender middle-aged woman comes to ask me if I need help. I hand my google letter over the glass counter to her. I apologize for my bad Spanish.  Its times like this I wish I was fluent in Spanish. Cause I want to tell her if I end up with a bird with his coat and head still on I may have to start drinking cause I have no butcher knife and I’ll start crying if I see its face.

She smiles and reads my letter. She then goes to the butcher and tells him what I need. He nods ok no pas nada from the other end of the shop. I ask if a 5 kg. turkey is enough for 6 people?  She nods and smiles.

Then she starts gesturing to me. And says “todos pavo?” (Whole bird) I’m thinking yes I want the whole bird. But not cut in pieces if that’s what she means. Uh oh, then I’m thinking the google translate is not clear. Maybe she means whole as in with its head and feathers?

She gestures a chopping motion of the head.

Wide-eyed I look at her and nod si no cabeza! And no feathers! She looks at me quizzically, So I pull on my shirt like I’m picking lint of myself and flap my arms like a chicken to make sure she knows no feathers.  An older lady with grey hair in a neatly pressed color coordinated grey jacket and skirt near the counter on my left looks at me flapping and snorts.  No doubt she has a story when she goes home now.

Then out of desperation to be understood I reach deep down into my poor Spanish word bank in my brain and I suddenly remember a very important word; The word for nude. So I say “Yo quiro una desnudo pavo por favor.”  (I want a naked turkey.)

She starts laughing like it’s the best joke she ever heard. Then nods at me, tears in her eyes. “si si” she says. The older lady in the nice suit is covering her mouth and trying not to look at me.

Phew, she got it. And I didn’t have to simulate taking off my clothes either thank God. Obviously google translate wasn’t enough. I mean look at me, I’m blond, wearing a Dallas cowboys T-shirt, with no Spanish and obviously American. Do I look like a feather plucking- head -chopping- turkey killer? I’m not in overalls right from the farm here.

She turns and says something to the butcher who comes around the corner; a tall slender attractive Spaniard with deep brown eyes wearing a clean crisp white butcher jacket who smiles at me and suppresses a chuckle. . “supuesto’ (of course) he says with a creamy Spanish accent that could melt chocolate. That’s right naked please I thought, kind of like you,  mr. tall handsome butcher with that crisp white jacket about to slice something delicious for later….I’m not much of a meat eater, but maybe I should be I’m thinking…

Then the thought of the turkey’s face flashed over my fantasy, and I snapped out of it.

So I ask when to pick it up and do I pay now? Mr. lovely Spaniard the butcher says no, Wed or Thursday is fine anytime. Ok then, I smile, turn and shuffle out. I’m confident I got my point across. Desnudo; naked; the bird, not the butcher.

Ok then. Walking up the narrow stone streets in the cool evening air, I went on my way. Assured I’ll have a naked bird soon.  And with the help of my friends giving me recipes and gravy packets I’ll be able to cook it and eat it too.

Now I’m wondering what it will really look like.

I’ll fill you in when it arrives.        

Somewhere in Spain

Attempting Thanksgiving with no Walmart