Months ago, after the viewing of a film, Kurt Heinrich and John Horn decided to overcoming the mid-november blues by hosting the dinner party of dinner parties. It happened on November 14, 2009 and the event was called Turduckenfest 2009. This is the story.
John: Few know this, but the Turducken is the North American cousin of the penguin. It’s layers of fatty meatty tissue make it well suited for surviving – nay, thriving – in the tree line of Canada. Since Sarah Palin allowed the helicopter-based hunting of Turduckens, their population has dwindled slightly. But, as Ms. Palin will tell you, this doesn’t make them any less delicious. So that’s where we got our Tuducken. In the hinterland between Alaska and the Yukon. Don’t believe anything Kurt tells you.
Kurt: While my co-editor is correct that the beast we ate was a turducken, his fabulous tale of the origins of the species are somewhat suspect. The true story of the turducken is they were bred in middle earth by feisty orks as fodder for their celebratory meals after battle with hobbits. But the Dark Lord Suaron took the poor animals and twisted them into hideously demented creatures. Their true evil is matched only by their pure deliciousness. Or so the legend goes. So John, considering the varied history(s) of the turducken – what’s your top three favorite things about the bird(s)?
John: Here are my three favourite things:
1. The assembly process – nothing builds community like de-boning a chicken, duck and turkey, filling them all with stuffing, squeezing them all together, and then sewing it up until it looks like some sort of crazy zombie-like-turkey-creature. It takes teamwork, creativity and a tolerance for disgustingness!
2. The cooking – it takes between 10-12 hours to perfectly cook a Turducken (there’s so much inside that you have to do it on a low heat for a long time); such a method takes Jedi-like patience, and it just makes the meal taste better.
3. The final product - when 15 people are sitting around a steaming Turducken (not to mention all the delicious side dishes that go with it) and the chef makes that first, deep cut through three layers of meat from three different birds, well, it’s just a beautiful reflection of community at its best.
How did the dinner make you feel, Kurt buddy? Physically, mentally, spiritually?
Kurt: I have to say it made me feel very happy.
Physically, I felt satiated.
Mentally, I felt calmed (the wine helped that too).
Spiritually, I felt complete – all the friends, good food and Jenn (we were so attached to our turducken, we named her Jenn, after our friend from Bishop’s University who came over for a dinner on The Drive and got more than she bargained for, as Jenn filmed some of the turducken-assembly process) sitting there pleasantly on the centre platter made me feel like a very real part of a completed community.
I imagine our readers are looking forward to seeing what we’re talking about, don’t you John? Should we show them the little video we made now – or just keep it to ourselves?
John: We need to share our wisdom and expertise in community-building. This kind of magic needs to be exported to people and their communities around the world where there is an abundance of chickens and ducks and turkeys and very few vegetarians. Speaking of vegetarians, well, you’ve been warned about the video that lies below. Enjoy yourselves, everyone, and thanks for armchair-viewing the historic community-based event that was Turduckenfest 2009!
So there it is. We encourage every reader of The DG to comment on this story. Mostly, though, we would love it if the folks – nay, the community – who attended Turduckenfest 2009 to let us – and the rest of the blogosphere – know what you thought about your first ever turducken experience. First question: do you now feel like you belong to an exclusive community?