Can you kill a turkey twice?

Well, I sure did.

It had worked fine in the morning, warming bread and rice balls for the antipasto. But as I heaved my well-dressed bird in for the grand finale, I sensed a twinge of doom. Not that I'm psychic, I just tend to anticipate the worst when the game is on the line, so to speak.

The little electronic display assured me that my fears were unwarranted; it was on. But ten minutes later, I realized that my oven was a liar.

I played with it, I begged it, I cursed it. I put the bird back in the fridge and scoured Google for a quick-fix. There was none, and I now had to find a way to salvage the holiday meal.

I took the turkey back out of the fridge and my meanest knife out of the drawer. I have to admit that my heart sank. I take a tremendous amount of pride in not only the way my bird tastes, but how it looks. And this year, it was particularly beautiful. The unblemished celery leaves crowned by the half lemon dipped in Herbes de Provence gracing the petite cavity, the glistening oiled and buttered skin decorated in hand blended herbs and briny sea salt, the time and tradition worn roasting pan loaded with pride and anticipation of a most fragrant and tasty pan gravy.....

But, I had mouths to feed.

I picked up the knife, and systematically dismembered the bird. Tossing pieces into the oiled pan on top of the stove, I felt a bit relieved, until I realized that the stuffing and sweet potatoes were still in the fridge. OK, I guess I can cook the stuffing in a pot, but the sweet potatoes? They looked so pretty; slices arranged in concentric circles, covered in brown sugar and butter, intended to succumb to caramelly goodness in the oven. What else could I do? Into the microwave they went.

Of course, all this last minute decision making took my attention off the turkey pieces. They were a bit overdone now, but the stuffing was still cold, and the microwave was still buzzing. Bad turned to worse as I tried to assemble platters and serving pieces to dress up the catastrophe.

Finally on the table, I was greeted with half hearted comments that it still tasted good. Gravy can cover all manner of mistakes, but the uncooked turkey carcass that still languished in the kitchen was haunting me. I had saved the meal, but I had killed the turkey. And, just in case you were wondering, microwaves do not a caramelly goodness make.

The leftovers are still in the fridge.