We all remember the first time... that we cooked a big holiday turkey, I mean.



I’ve been married for 23 years. That's not a record, but it's long enough to have cooked my share of holiday dinners. Two Thanksgivings really stand out in my mind (and one of them is going to be this year!) But today, I’m going to tell you about the first time I cooked a Thanksgiving turkey. And explore some eco-options for cooking your bird.

The year was 1999. Fear about the impending end of civilization as the millennium turned and the lure of pleasant California weather had finally induced Mr. Lite Green’s entire family to come out to Los Angeles and spend Thanksgiving with us. I said I’d cook. “Oh joy, oh rapture. It’s finally my turn! What delights will adorn my table. After all, how hard can this be,” I thought smugly.

Looking back, the whole event was doomed from the beginning. Fourteen people, a 1200 square foot condo and plenty of potato-based social lubricant. I still wake up screaming sometimes. Not to mention that my oven blew-up (yes, I mean blew-up) on Tuesday and I had to have a new oven delivered and installed, complete with rebuilt hood, the day before the big event.

Anyway, I had picked a handsome 25 pounder for our feast. Yea, yea, I know, it’s a big bird. I didn’t know it at the time, however. I brined it and stuffed it and buttered it and put it in the oven, and expected it to be done on time at 1:00 PM. I imagined us all sitting down, saying grace and smiling through all the accolades about my beautiful, crisp, juicy turkey.

The biggest problem, by far, was the blasted (pun fully intended) turkey. At 5:00 PM, it still wasn’t cooked. I hadn’t planned any appetizers because I expected to sit down to our sumptuous meal at about 1:00 PM. And everyone had been sippin’ since about 11:00. Desperate, I stirred together a ham dip made out of potted meat from our earthquake survival kit, and threw it out onto the coffee table with some stale crackers from the back of the pantry. Surprisingly, even the snootiest of Mr. Lite Green’s relations gobbled it up with gusto.

Eventually, my father-in-law came up with a most elegant suggestion to move things along and end “the great turkey embargo,” as it came to be known.

“Nuke it,” he said.

“Bingo!” I said. So we cut that turkey up into serving sized portions and zapped it until it was no longer pink.

At 7:30, we sat down to a parched, tasteless bird that we ate with the delight of refugees. And all was right with the world.

That Thanksgiving turned out all right in the end, but in case this is your first Thanksgiving, here are a few tips I'll share with you if things don't go as planned.

• A smaller, unstuffed turkey cooks faster and uses less energy no matter what method you use.
• Choose sides that can cook along with the turkey to save on energy and time.
• Brining is usually unnecessary, so save the water.
• Choose a fresh turkey over a frozen one. It’ll taste better and doesn’t take up valuable fridge room and hog electricity while it thaws.
• Always, always have a back up plan in case of a turkey disaster.