My FriendsGiving started as a way to fulfill my goal of deep-frying large poultry and a means to get rid of the extra turkey sitting in my freezer. Once I found out that a co-worker had all the necessary hardware to do some heavy-duty frying, I made plans for Thanksgiving part 2. The idea was simple—provide the food and place and everyone else provides the beverages. Frying a turkey not only provides lots of food, it is an excuse to stand around a huge pot of hot oil while drinking beers in thirty-degree weather.
The procedure to transform a turkey from the heaping, pale mass of flesh and bone seen here:
…To the delicious mound of fried goodness seen here…
…is not too difficult. If you can get your hands on a frying setup, the cooking itself is a cakewalk. Granted, I wouldn’t want to do it everyday—cleaning it up is a hassle—but if you have a few good folks around it is worth the effort. We quickly found that the worst part is waiting. Just like real Thanksgiving, FriendsGiving was full of grumbling stomachs churning at the scent of the forthcoming meal. Also like real Thanksgiving, your guests have the opportunity to eat oodles of cheese and crackers as they consume more libations in an attempt to ease the hunger. Unlike Thanksgiving, however, the delicious scent of fried meat will permeate your clothing and hair and stick around far longer than it takes to digest all the food. Who doesn’t want to smell like their dinner two days later?
Everyone I spoke to about turkey frying told me the same thing—submerge the bird slowly. There are more than enough horror stories about decks, houses and body parts going on fire to make sure I heeded the warning. After bringing the oil to a briskly bubbling 350-degrees, I used my high-tech nylon-rope-and-ratchet mechanism to lower the bird into the pot. There were all sorts of horrifying gurgles and billows of smoke, but the ensuing aroma was enough to know that the sacrifices were well worth it. The smoke smelled bacon-like at first, but once the bubbles returned my yard was full of the garlicky, pepper-infused scent of rub I used. Every time the wind picked up my nostrils were pummeled with the delicious sent of meat and spices. After experiencing this, I couldn’t imagine who wouldn’t put their limbs on the line to eat 22-pounds of fried fowl?
About an hour later we pulled out the bird. I probably could have left it in a bit longer to achieve are deeper brown, crunchy skin, but we were starving and all the booze was taking its toll. After making sure the bird was fully cooked, I pulled her out and set her up to rest. The turkey was a hearty bronze, crisp to the touch with a strong savory aroma. Being the methodical cook I am, I had trays of parboiled fries and breaded zucchini ready to go. As we waited on the resting bird, I stood out in the cold waiting for the oil to reach temperature; this is where I encountered a few problems:
Three gallons of turkey fat filled oil takes some time to reach 350 degrees. While this isn’t any ground breaking news, when there are 6 people waiting to eat it becomes a problem. I prematurely dumped the taters in the oil and pulled them out cooked but limp. As I spread them out under the broiler, I administered a similar slop-job frying to the zucchini (they were destined to be finished on the stove). The table was full of carved turkey, corn bread, cranberry sauce, bean salad and beers so I couldn’t keep everyone waiting. We sat down and dug in.
Again, all I can say is that you must fry at least one turkey in your life. The skin is unbelievable—dark, crispy and fragrant—while the meat is juicy. Even the traditionally overcooked and dry breast meat remains moist and flavorful. Combine the delicious crust with the soft interior and you have the makings of a great meal. Also, if you break it down 1-2 hours of frying is much quicker than the mandatory 3+ hours for a traditional roasted bird. Start convincing your family to bypass the oven and fry next year’s turkey. If you do, I’ll swing by to help and bring the beer.
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