Prior to the
last 12 months or so, I confess to have never even managed to cook a Sunday
roast. But after a couple of successful chickens and a beef joint, I reckoned a
turkey was my gradual next step: lucky then, since this year I have invited my
Dad to mine for Christmas dinner.
Armed with my
pre-stuffed Morrisons turkey joint earlier today, and the legal version of
Nigella’s tips for a perfect Christmas, I began with some trepidation as I
negotiated margarine hands, burning tin foil and whether those little pink bits
were really supposed to be there or not.
A relief it was
finally then, to pull the steaming bird from the oven a couple of hours ago and
carve, to find it looks near enough OK.
It doesn’t look
at present like I will kill him (from the food, that is). But there’s time yet.
If all goes well, next year I might even attempt my own stuffing.
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