The Tale of the Greenberg Turkey

In 2008, I enjoyed the winter holidays in my own home for the first time, having graduated from student apartments after far too many years of listening to the dulcet sounds of blasting stereos and late-night cellphone convos in the stairwells.

This year, I ordered my first Greenberg Turkey! I introduced myself as Frances Friedman's granddaughter when I placed the order: it's that kind of business. I got it as a present for some friends who have to penny-pinch. I thought I might Scrooge them by ordering a good-sized turkey and throwing a Party for them and all our friends, with enough leftovers to last everybody several days.

So far, so good. The turkey came, and the FedEx truck pulled away. I came out when the door rang. There it was on my doorstep, just as it had appeared on my mother's doorstep after she moved away from home! A genuine smoked Greenberg Turkey, in a big cardboard box marked Perishable. And then I heard a click.

Mind you, I'd been off visiting my family for the holidays. While chowing on Mom's Greenberg Turkey, I'd ordered another to arrive when I got back! I hadn't been back long, and I'd forgotten how my doors worked. I still wasn't used to the locks. So suddenly there I was in my green silk dressing-gown with no shoes, not even underwear if truth be told, locked out on a cool afternoon -- neither warm enough to keep me comfortable nor cool enough to keep the turkey fresh for the three days until my Party guests arrived!

I live in a condo, neighbors on both sides, and neighbors all around the cul-de-sac. I stood on my stoop and hid in the porch a long time, too embarrassed to come out. But I must do something! I jiggled the door. I hadn't left the patio door open for the cat, so I was stuck and properly pickled.

Finally, I gave up and went round to my neighbors' house, a friendly Korean family with fairly good English, but still -- this was hard to explain! It took a little hand waving and a lot of blushing. Mrs. Kim took me in and gave me cocoa and a phone. She only had Yellow Pages and had no idea what "White Pages" were -- but luckily, she suggested dialing 411, since I was befuddled. That worked! I called my friends -- the ones I'd bought the turkey for -- who lived several towns over. They had a spare key I'd given them, or so we hoped.

(Continued below...)

Half an hour later they arrived to let me in. Here's you're turkey, I says to them brightly, Do you want it now, or shall we keep it until we've got a few more mouths to share it? And that was enough to laugh about -- me in my bare feet on the front doorstep, a bigger turkey than the twelve-pound one in the box. But when my friend went to put the spare key in the lock... the door opened! Just like that! She had the magic touch!

And you know what? She had the wrong key.

So that was my very first Greenberg Turkey in my first Christmas in my first home that I actually own. But that's not the end of the story. Before the Party, I made some pumpkin pies... yes, I've finally learned to cook a little bit! Or have I? You be the judge! Of course, I made sure to make some extra, and took a pie round to thank my neighbors the Kims who'd helped me out of a scrape. But...

On Sunday was the Party, and the Turkey was a smashing success. My friends said we'd have to do this next year, and they hailed the Greenberg Turkey as the King of Birds. They couldn't stop eating it. Yet everyone had enough to take home leftovers and make soup stock-- which reminds me, I've got some still!

There was only one hitch in the whole Party. I've been a bit under the weather (which explains also my locking myself out), and I had what I called the Stupid Bug. It made me flakier than I am already. We discovered that I'd left one crucial ingredient out of my pumpkin pies... sugar! Brown sugar, white sugar... all of it!

And so now how am I to tell my neighbors: That's not what pumpkin pie's supposed to taste like!

They said it was delicious. My Mom notes Korean food isn't as sweet as ours. And now I'm too embarrassed to admit to my neighbors how big a turkey I am.

...based largely on the Libby's Pumpkin Pie can recipe, but my great-aunt and I have tweaked it (more spices, and BROWN SUGAR!)

Two Pumpkin Pies (9-inch pans)

PUMPKIN PIE FILLING:

• 29 oz can of Libby's Pumpkin Filling (NOT pie mix, just pumpkin -- tell the hubby or he'll get the wrong thing)
  
• 4 Large Eggs
  
• 2 cans evap. milk
  
• 2 1/2 tsp cinnamon
  
• 1 tsp cloves
  
• 3/4 tsp of: cinnamon, grated nutmeg
  
• 3/4 cup brown sugar
  
• 1 1/2 cup white sugar
  

Heat oven to 425° F.
Beat with mixer in this order: first eggs, then beat in sugar, then milk and spices. Pumpkin filling last of all.
Put pies in. After 15 minutes, lower oven to 350° -- you may want to open door for a moment until red light pops on to make sure.
Cook 35-40 minutes, then check pies.

Pies are done when you put a knife in the filling and no pie clings to knife when you remove it.

PIE CRUST

Use a mixing bowl with a lid if you have it.

2 cups baker's flour -- sift, sift sift!
2/3 cup shortening. -- cut in with pastry cutter (or large fork, in a pinch) until you get a sort of fine crumbly meal.

Note: Be careful! You don't want to handle the dough more than necessary; otherwise you'll activate the gluten and it'll start to bulk up instead of being light and flaky.

5 tsp water (often I need to add more)

If you've got a lid, put the lid on the bowl and shake it around to get the stuff mixed into a ball as much as possible without handling. Or stir with wooden spoon or fingers.

Once you have a light greasy mass, divide in two. Roll out on a floured surface. Keep turning 45 degrees so you don't wind up with Greekgeek's Strangely Square Pie Crust (tm).

Use upside-down pie pan to measure your crust: a little overhang on all sides.

Sneaky trick to transfer pie crust to pan without tearing (usually):
Fold pie dough in fourths (like a napkin), transfer thicker, stronger folded crust to pan, then unfold.