Yes, it was a naked bird. But keep the neck please
So, I have been lax in getting back to the blog as Christmas has flown right up faster than I thought.
Ya’ll wanted to know about the turkey, did I get it naked or not? Well, I did. When I walked into the butcher, he saw me no questions asked, and went to the back and got my desnudo bird. He plopped it down on the cutting board with a thug. I quickly saw through the glass counter It was de-feathered woohoo! but the head was there just hanging off the board; skinny, snake-like, pinkish and de-feathered.
He took his butcher knife and promptly chopped it off right in front of me. No forewarning like don’t look, off it goes! He’s headless now! Then he propped the bird on a scale and weighed it and it came out bigger than expected; about 6.5 Kilos. He asked, “is that ok”? Of course, I said (as If Ide stop at this point). Besides what am I gonna say? “My, what a big bird you have Mr. butcher, I hope it fits in the pan.” Seriously though, just keep the head on your side of the counter I thought.
He then wrapped it in cellophane and handed it over to me like a baby. It looked huge to me and was really heavy. Man, how does a woman ever have a baby if they look this big? Thank God I never had any, and if Ide planned on it and I saw this naked thing I would have changed my mind right then. Lord have mercy.

I could see through the cellophane that the skin was not quite white, and prickly looking. There were some scattered blood spots on it where it had been plucked that looked like a bad case of road rash on its wings and sides. And I saw a few feathers that must have been missed poking out under one wing. It looked fresh though and not injected with salt water or stark white and shined up like a butterball in the US. This must be how they are if you’re getting them from a farm I thought. I just smiled and acted calm like Ide had seen this kind of thing before.

I placed it gently in the bag I had brought with me. Good thing I did that as I’m not sure what Ide look like carrying my cellophane baby through the streets back to my apartment. Not that anyone would care I suppose.
I paid 30 Euros and promptly took him home. I unwrapped him and checked for any rogue feathers. I smoothed the prickly-looking wings with extra olive oil to make them look less like a rash. When I turned him over to check everything, what looked like a big fat penis was sticking out one end. I think because when the butcher chopped the neck off, he didn’t chop it real close to the inside. Not being offensive here but I pulled on it to see if I could pull it out or cut it off, but my knife sucked and wasn’t sharp enough. Can you tell I wasn’t raised on a farm?
So not wanting to waste time I just pushed it in the cavity as best I could but then it just popped right out again. Jeese it must really have been a male bird I thought. Whatever, I’m sure the oven will cook it and shrink it right down to tiny; just like my ex, then it won’t look so rude.
Anyway, I buttered it, oiled it, and rubbed my homemade poultry season all over it. I lowered it into the oven and it barely fit. I set the oven to 180 Celsius… 5 hours later he was done. He came out juicy and looked pretty close to thanksgiving turkey with no neck poking out either.
For the sides, I was able to make mashed sweet potatoes with brown sugar and semi-candied walnuts on top I made myself minus the burned pieces. The steamed green beans were ok and the dressing from dried pieces of French bread came out ok but a little hard in the middle cause the pieces were too big to get the broth all inside. That’s what I get for not telling my friend to bring boxed dressing too.
My mashed potatoes were very weird. I couldn’t find Idaho-like potatoes but thought I had something similar. But when mashed they became sticky like a big bowl of pale yellow glue. Um, wtf was that? I wanted fluffy yummy white potatoes, not Elmer’s. I seasoned them up with butter thinking that would help them be creamy, not sticky. It didn’t help. A yellow bowl of Elmers you can throw and stick on a wall six feet away, that’s what I had… oh well. However, if you didn’t look at them or the texture, they tasted just fine thank goodness. At least that’s what my friends said, probably to make me feel better.
My cranberry sauce made from dried cranberries came out 90% of authentic sauce thanks to a friend who gave me a recipe for dried cranberry sauce. Phew, is all I could say.
Good thing I had the instant turkey gravy mix to pour over it all. I made an example plate showing everyone how to put the gravy on everything, and have the cranberry sauce on the side, etc.

They all loved it and they all ate seconds. Thank God for small favors. It was my first turkey in 25 years and in another country.
And to top it I had a pumpkin pie made by another friend as well so they could experience a traditional dessert. We all hung out for hours and they got to watch the Macy’s NY parade on U Tube too. It was the closest I could get to giving them a US Thanksgiving meal without the football game or family arguing.
I can safely say it was one of the best Thanksgivings I have ever had.
I’ll never look at a turkey the same again though. But next time I’ll ask for the neck to be cut as close as possible to the body. I don’t like wrestling with a rude-looking appendage I’m about to eat. Seriously.
Somewhere in Spain
A successful Thanksgiving with new friends.
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Published by Chif
I am a nurse, divorced, and love travel. I climb stairs with a bunch of friends and I’m the Captain of a stair team called Tower of Power. I’m also a cancer survivor. I had anal cancer and before you think something rude… I was married 21 years to an asshole. That’s why I got ass cancer. that the story and I’m sticking to it. Ive been to 80 countries and plan on another 50, God willing….
About Me

This blog is about how I changed my life. I moved to Spain at 58 for 2 years to teach kids English. After divorce and cancer it was time to do something different and I did. I left a good job and health insurance and no, I didn’t know any Spanish either. But I did it and learned how to move to another country and deal with ex-pat adaption hell, but then due to “aging out at age 60” I had to go… go figure! So I had to move back to the US to go through a different kind of re-pat, re-integration hell.
So I sit here wondering: Whose f***ing idea was this anyway? Mine, all mine. So here is my story, one painful step at a time, then and now. Just so you know I’ve been to 80 countries over the years as I have no kids and no man to get in my way. So enjoy my travel stories as I continue to come up with crazy F***ing ideas.
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Published by Chif
I am a nurse, divorced, and love travel. I climb stairs with a bunch of friends and I’m the Captain of a stair team called Tower of Power. I’m also a cancer survivor. I had anal cancer and before you think something rude… I was married 21 years to an asshole. That’s why I got ass cancer. that the story and I’m sticking to it. Ive been to 80 countries and plan on another 50, God willing….
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