Smoked, Brined Turkey
Growing up half Canadian and half Italian lent itself well to exposing turkey for the sham that it is. Half of the holidays were spent eating the bird with all the variety of being served ‘cold’ or ‘warm’, while the rest of the holidays were spent eating things that generally had flavour. It is only fair that I went on to marry an English girl who simply demands that thanksgiving revolve around a bird too lazy to fly. A bird so lazy it makes you sleep after you eat it. A bird so lazy you can use it’s name to express discontent with other people, you turkeys! My point is that it barely seems fair. So for several years I’ve used all manner of techniques to attempt to make this bird as great as people make it out to be. This year, I think I have.
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