Like Santa Claus I have been making my Christmas list, though mine is concerned with stuff I need to get for our family celebrations. Top of that list is a turkey crown. Not a whole turkey, and certainly not a giant turkey that needs to have its legs removed if it is to fit in the oven (Pilkington family in Gorleston circa 1972). I go for a crown as we don't like turkey enough to face the revisits for a whole week after the big day. So why do I then buy turkey at all?
Tradition comes into it of course. We had turkey as kids, so it wouldn't feel like Christmas without it. But goose is far more traditional in the historic sense (happily, with two of my magazine articles currently in print on that topic, ker and indeed ching). In the USA a big ham is the done thing, turkey there being reserved for Thanksgiving (for those creeps trying to make it a British event, drop it please).
Maybe as happened with the move from goose in the late 19th century we will evolve away from turkey. We in this household also tend to have a small sirloin joint, done so the centre is still red raw. Other foods have come in as rather oxymoronic new traditions during my lifetime: panetone, panforte, and Stollen cake to name but three.
Happy those like us who don't have to endure real austerity at Christmas. But to go full circle, a whole turkey can be an austerity boon: sarnies, broth, curry, risotto, gratin, more sarnies, fricassee, stir fry, rissoles (so much nicer if called by another name - turkey cakes perhaps), soup... A freezer full of saved meat means it doesn't have to be an endurance course but can be spread over months. Almost makes me want to buy a big bird. Almost.
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