So, last year I successfully (which here means, ‘without giving anybody botulism’) roasted a 25 pound turkey and thought I was pretty hot stuff. And then there was the year I managed a 30 pound beer-basted prime rib roast. Or the time that I whumped out fourteen pies in a single morning.
Oh yeah, I said to myself on these occasions, Who da chef? I’M DA CHEF, BABY.
Ya, well.
The funny white hat, she is passed to Mr. Rich Portnoy.
To win in a game of sibling rivalry gone way past the usual limits, he has roasted up a Seventy-Two (72) Pound Turkey.
Oh.
My.
Dawg.
His sister did a 47 pound (!!!) monster last year, trumping the paltry 37 pounder (!!) her brother found.
SO THIS YEAR, Mr. Brother Guy went straight to the source and found this gigantic beast and put it into his “36-inch-wide, chef-caliber oven” (when I read that, I blurted out, “Well, but, that’s like…CHEATING OR SOME JUNK!”, which is nothing but green-eyed envy at its finest…) and his sister had concede defeat.
“…but noted that her brother's large oven gave him an edge.”
YES! EXACTLY! It doesn’t count! IT DOESN’T COUNT!!!
So, in the interest of fairness, I think I should trade ovens with Mr. Portnoy, and then he and his sister can have it out in a clean, fair fight.
I am willing to make these kinds of sacrifices, this is how good a person I am.
Any time you’re ready to make this a good, clean fight, Mr. Portnoy – call me.
I’m here for you, buddy.
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1 week ago
4 comments:
Definitely needs to be 2 categories, a regular oven and a large oven.
But... 72lbs of turkey, that's a lot of sandwiches, like til easter.
Considering that my (new) oven just about gave up the ghost Thanksgiving day, fluctuating a whopping 150 degrees when set at a single temperature, I'm happy just to have succeeded in not serving raw turkey and burned pie. (This is, of course, no different than any other year, except that this year I'd have had an excuse.)
Totally unfair. My brother and I disqualified my sister in the furnace wars this year because she was using the fireplace for heat.
You just have to draw the line somewhere, just for the sake of decency.
(and FOURTEEN PIES? I bow to thee, oh great and powerful pie queen.)
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