Festivity Drink: 2018 Irancy (P-L & J-F Bersan).

The first mention of a president sparing a turkey was when Abraham Lincoln’s son Tad asked his father. John Kennedy decided to keep one alive in 1963, explaining let a bird grow. The tradition took the beginning in the presidency of George H.W. Bush who “pardoned” a turkey, sending it to a children’s farm, in 1989.

I decided to make two turkey hams over an open fire. I hadn’t anything that was cooked there for long. Nothing other than look for a recipe from Jacques Pepin. That search led to getting his French accent stuck in my head… and it was beautiful. However I almost immediately discovered a needful (it was a TV program, which chef had with Julia Child) and it brought me to create my own recipe, though it kinda reminds what I’ve done with the whole chicken once upon a time.

I don’t know how long, but it must have been a big time ago when I was involved in cooking, because you need passion for that. I realized in a meat preparation that I missed it so much. Maybe there will be a day when the fire will ignite back. Nevertheless, I followed for master’s removal of bones from the turkey. If he did it for several seconds, I spent minutes. It’s just require a practice, which I don’t do it.

There were thin bones in the feet. Chef took out them without resistance, I spent time in that ridding, and a couple of them left. I dropped the efforts because it was fine, though I returned and began again, but reminded myself there is no necessity. The other piece of turkey hadn’t mass taking out of bones. I was puzzled by chef’s smooth removal all that time, but I came to conclusion. It was a French turkey… because it easily gave up!

How I need a drummer in these moments!

The meat was salted and peppered. While between get ridding from the big bones, I prepared a familiar combination of spinach and garlic mixed them in olive oil by my hand as did it previously. I added mushrooms, which were cut, to there. Then, after some thinking, I included a little portion of sweet violet onion. All ingredients were combined with my limb again. I put all that inside turkey hams. Then I tied by threads and wrapped in a foil my dish and placed it in the fridge until the next day.

Well, I’m so alone (as always). However, it’s not true. I’m with two cats, Knopka Sophie and her son Spy (sometimes I call him Mel) have turkey and a bottle of Irancy of the year 2018 from winemakers P-L & J-F Bersan. Before I dare to take a sip, I should thank somebody or something or, better to say, go through this dull tradition.

Certainly, I would wish that things had gone greater in this year, but I don’t dare to complain. I’m grateful for everything that I’ve experienced. No doubt, I want to say “thank you” to many Americans that I met in my long-delaying visit home. The same I speak for being in the United States itself because that was useful in many aspects. Also, I think I should be less tender to my kidneys and taste more whiskey, but find a good place is a first issue, the second is discover bottles from my drink list there. However, it was for the best, as it revealed with drinks I wanted to have.

No less gratitude to many wonderful people and incredible experiences that I had in visited countries in this period year if count from the previous Thanksgiving.

The last appreciation to that the mood for writing novella has resumed, and I’m keeping maximum speed to complete it by Christmas. I’m currently doing the penultimate chapter; I just need to letter several pages and make polishing from a point where I halted it.

This wine contains 13% and it’s one Pinot Noir, which is from Burgundy. I had an opportunity to taste only this grape, though I had a belief before that it is not my type.

A cork was easily taking out and I’ve got an aroma of living grapes, and I felt a blowing of wind. But all that disappears then. No pinching, but you get a messy taste. It was dry wine with acidity in the end, which transforms into maturated beauty in its evolution, but that acerbity feels in the aftertaste. Only acidity is a final stage in the disclosure of Irancy. After the next sip, which was in getting that unpleasant flavor, I screamed an aria (perhaps, it would correct that I believed I screamed an aria). I made a few more takes, but I couldn’t drink that wine. I had nothing other but acidity in that late aftertaste.

The turkey, which I was afraid to undercook, was ready. Of course, it wasn’t an ideal recipe as I had assumed in the beginning, and it was risky to cook it in such condition, but this dish made my celebration anyway.