
That is a picture of my turkey, backside up, soaking in a brine composed of vegetable stock, tons of kosher salt, light brown sugar, all spice, peppercorns and ginger. There it will stay overnight until I cook the motherfucker. From there it will go to my uncle’s house where the unappreciative bastards I call my family will scarf it down while I sit there fretting whether the meat tastes good or not.
Why did I get roped into doing this again?
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