I’m sending my mother off to visit her sister as a Christmas gift. I thought at the time that this was the greatest gift ever given and was smugly patting myself on the back as possibly being the best son ever, second only to Jesus. And in my book, it was close.
So I was surprised when I received a phone call from my father in which he sounded less than proud of me.
“So what the fuck were you thinking?”
“Huh?” I responded, thoroughly confused.
“Thinking. What the fuck were you?”
“Mom wanted to go to visit her sister. I paid for it, which makes me AWESOME. I am not sure I know what you’re getting at.”
“Awesome? Really? In your little plan, where do I fit in?”
“Awwwww! That’s cute. You’re going to miss her. It’s only a week..”
“What the fuck is wrong with you? Miss her? WHO THE FUCK WILL COOK MY CHRISTMAS DINNER????”
This got my attention. By extension, who the fuck was going to cook MY Christmas dinner? I just gifted myself out of Christmas ham. Shit. I had to think quick.
“Thought of that already,” I lied. “I’m going to cook dinner for the both of us.”
Fuck. Did I really just say that? Stick and move, Ali. Rumble, young man, rumble….
“Really?”, came the unconvinced response. “What?”
“Turducken.”, I blurted out. I was digging a hole that British Petroleum would be proud of.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Turducken.” I repeated. “A stuffed boneless chicken, stuffed in a duck, which is then stuffed inside a turkey. Tur-duck-en.”
“Shit.”, was the only thing I heard before he hung up.
For the next several hours I busied myself researching my brainstorm on the Internet. Fairly early on, it was evident I would not be doing this from scratch. Deboning a chicken and a duck then shoving them up a turkey’s ass was not on the agenda for the next few weeks. Not to mention the 12 pounds of stuffing I was going to need. Who the hell had time to make something like this?
Those wacky Cajuns, that’s who. I will leave you to ponder the history relating to the invention of this particular culinary specialty, but it probably went something like this:
“Hey Boudreau? What will you give me if I stick this live chicken up that turkeys ass?”
“Piddly shit, Francois. I’ll stick this duck up my ass for two dollars.”
Anyway, I found a web site that sold these monstrosities already made and frozen. The variety was mind-boggling. You could get them stuffed with cornbread, andouille sausage, shrimp, and….ok just those three. So maybe not boggling. Did I mention they stuff a turkey with a duck with a chicken? It sounds so….dirty.
While I was trying to decide, I clicked on something called “Fowl De Cochon.”
Fuck me sideways.
It was a stuffed chicken, stuffed inside a duck, stuffed inside a turkey, then stuffed inside a whole pig.
That is seven kinds of awesome wrapped in bacon, my friends. What kind of sick, inbred mind does it take to create something like that? What seemed excessive before was now positively pedestrian when compared to the Fowl De Cochon, which is French for “Birds stuffed up a pig’s ass”. I think. I never took French.
I must have it. Except now I gotta go buy a new oven that this huge bastard will fit in. Anyone know how to get roast pig smell out of an oven? I want to return this bad boy the day after Christmas, like they do with the big screen TV’s after the Superbowl…
This is going to be awesome. And while I don’t make a habit of quoting fictional crippled children, “God (or insert the Deity of your choice) Bless Us, Every One”…