It’s an unpleasant sight, I know, but the truth is they cook better this way. Not unlike a turkey broiling in its own juices.
Ah, but you’re too young to remember turkeys, aren’t you? Messy things they were, what with all the plucking and and gutting. Mean bastards, too. Screamed something fierce until you cut their throat. But damn, were they tasty.
We had a tough time of it, when they were all gone, them and the cows and hogs and other animals. Took us a while to figure things out, until we realized we had an inexhaustible food source of our own making. It’s better in the long run, I s’pose, but damned if I don’t miss the taste of a good roast turkey from time to time.
But I can see I’m boring you. You’re right, nostalgia can wait. We’ve a feast to prepare before the rest of the family arrives. Let’s make it one for the ages, shall we?