“The turkey looks dry!”
My late grandmother Tina would say this as she was walking in the front door of our home for Thanksgiving dinner, even though she was nowhere near the kitchen. Then she’d peek into the oven, tap me on the shoulder and say: “See? It looks dry. You should take it out.” In reality, the 14-pound turkey had only been in the oven for 45 minutes.
To be fair, some years, the turkey was a little dry. Never one to shy away from a challenge (and, because all those years of dry turkey accusations gave me a turkey complex), I became determined to serve grandma the juiciest turkey in the universe. I started experimenting with different brining techniques. I soaked cheesecloth in butter and blanketed the skin. I basted. I flipped the turkey halfway through cooking and basted some more.
I finally came up with a grandma-approved turkey recipe that doesn’t require eight different methods of brining, cooking and basting. I combine buttermilk, pickle brine and my favorite hot sauce to make the brine. Then I add seasoned butter both underneath and on top of the skin. The turkey comes out juicy, beautifully golden brown, and reminds me of excellent pickle-brined fried chicken.
This will be my first Thanksgiving without my grandmother. Grandma, this one’s for you. I promise it won’t be dry.
“The turkey looks dry!”
My late grandmother Tina would say this as she was walking in the front door of our home for Thanksgiving dinner, even though she was nowhere near the kitchen. Then she’d peek into the oven, tap me on the shoulder and say: “See? It looks dry. You should take it out.” In reality, the 14-pound turkey had only been in the oven for 45 minutes.
To be fair, some years, the turkey was a little dry. Never one to shy away from a challenge (and, because all those years of dry turkey accusations gave me a turkey complex), I became determined to serve grandma the juiciest turkey in the universe. I started experimenting with different brining techniques. I soaked cheesecloth in butter and blanketed the skin. I basted. I flipped the turkey halfway through cooking and basted some more.
I finally came up with a grandma-approved turkey recipe that doesn’t require eight different methods of brining, cooking and basting. I combine buttermilk, pickle brine and my favorite hot sauce to make the brine. Then I add seasoned butter both underneath and on top of the skin. The turkey comes out juicy, beautifully golden brown, and reminds me of excellent pickle-brined fried chicken.
This will be my first Thanksgiving without my grandmother. Grandma, this one’s for you. I promise it won’t be dry.
“The turkey looks dry!”
My late grandmother Tina would say this as she was walking in the front door of our home for Thanksgiving dinner, even though she was nowhere near the kitchen. Then she’d peek into the oven, tap me on the shoulder and say: “See? It looks dry. You should take it out.” In reality, the 14-pound turkey had only been in the oven for 45 minutes.
To be fair, some years, the turkey was a little dry. Never one to shy away from a challenge (and, because all those years of dry turkey accusations gave me a turkey complex), I became determined to serve grandma the juiciest turkey in the universe. I started experimenting with different brining techniques. I soaked cheesecloth in butter and blanketed the skin. I basted. I flipped the turkey halfway through cooking and basted some more.
I finally came up with a grandma-approved turkey recipe that doesn’t require eight different methods of brining, cooking and basting. I combine buttermilk, pickle brine and my favorite hot sauce to make the brine. Then I add seasoned butter both underneath and on top of the skin. The turkey comes out juicy, beautifully golden brown, and reminds me of excellent pickle-brined fried chicken.
This will be my first Thanksgiving without my grandmother. Grandma, this one’s for you. I promise it won’t be dry.
“The turkey looks dry!”
My late grandmother Tina would say this as she was walking in the front door of our home for Thanksgiving dinner, even though she was nowhere near the kitchen. Then she’d peek into the oven, tap me on the shoulder and say: “See? It looks dry. You should take it out.” In reality, the 14-pound turkey had only been in the oven for 45 minutes.
To be fair, some years, the turkey was a little dry. Never one to shy away from a challenge (and, because all those years of dry turkey accusations gave me a turkey complex), I became determined to serve grandma the juiciest turkey in the universe. I started experimenting with different brining techniques. I soaked cheesecloth in butter and blanketed the skin. I basted. I flipped the turkey halfway through cooking and basted some more.
I finally came up with a grandma-approved turkey recipe that doesn’t require eight different methods of brining, cooking and basting. I combine buttermilk, pickle brine and my favorite hot sauce to make the brine. Then I add seasoned butter both underneath and on top of the skin. The turkey comes out juicy, beautifully golden brown, and reminds me of excellent pickle-brined fried chicken.
This will be my first Thanksgiving without my grandmother. Grandma, this one’s for you. I promise it won’t be dry.
“The turkey looks dry!”
My late grandmother Tina would say this as she was walking in the front door of our home for Thanksgiving dinner, even though she was nowhere near the kitchen. Then she’d peek into the oven, tap me on the shoulder and say: “See? It looks dry. You should take it out.” In reality, the 14-pound turkey had only been in the oven for 45 minutes.
To be fair, some years, the turkey was a little dry. Never one to shy away from a challenge (and, because all those years of dry turkey accusations gave me a turkey complex), I became determined to serve grandma the juiciest turkey in the universe. I started experimenting with different brining techniques. I soaked cheesecloth in butter and blanketed the skin. I basted. I flipped the turkey halfway through cooking and basted some more.
I finally came up with a grandma-approved turkey recipe that doesn’t require eight different methods of brining, cooking and basting. I combine buttermilk, pickle brine and my favorite hot sauce to make the brine. Then I add seasoned butter both underneath and on top of the skin. The turkey comes out juicy, beautifully golden brown, and reminds me of excellent pickle-brined fried chicken.
This will be my first Thanksgiving without my grandmother. Grandma, this one’s for you. I promise it won’t be dry.
“The turkey looks dry!”
My late grandmother Tina would say this as she was walking in the front door of our home for Thanksgiving dinner, even though she was nowhere near the kitchen. Then she’d peek into the oven, tap me on the shoulder and say: “See? It looks dry. You should take it out.” In reality, the 14-pound turkey had only been in the oven for 45 minutes.
To be fair, some years, the turkey was a little dry. Never one to shy away from a challenge (and, because all those years of dry turkey accusations gave me a turkey complex), I became determined to serve grandma the juiciest turkey in the universe. I started experimenting with different brining techniques. I soaked cheesecloth in butter and blanketed the skin. I basted. I flipped the turkey halfway through cooking and basted some more.
I finally came up with a grandma-approved turkey recipe that doesn’t require eight different methods of brining, cooking and basting. I combine buttermilk, pickle brine and my favorite hot sauce to make the brine. Then I add seasoned butter both underneath and on top of the skin. The turkey comes out juicy, beautifully golden brown, and reminds me of excellent pickle-brined fried chicken.
This will be my first Thanksgiving without my grandmother. Grandma, this one’s for you. I promise it won’t be dry.
“The turkey looks dry!”
My late grandmother Tina would say this as she was walking in the front door of our home for Thanksgiving dinner, even though she was nowhere near the kitchen. Then she’d peek into the oven, tap me on the shoulder and say: “See? It looks dry. You should take it out.” In reality, the 14-pound turkey had only been in the oven for 45 minutes.
To be fair, some years, the turkey was a little dry. Never one to shy away from a challenge (and, because all those years of dry turkey accusations gave me a turkey complex), I became determined to serve grandma the juiciest turkey in the universe. I started experimenting with different brining techniques. I soaked cheesecloth in butter and blanketed the skin. I basted. I flipped the turkey halfway through cooking and basted some more.
I finally came up with a grandma-approved turkey recipe that doesn’t require eight different methods of brining, cooking and basting. I combine buttermilk, pickle brine and my favorite hot sauce to make the brine. Then I add seasoned butter both underneath and on top of the skin. The turkey comes out juicy, beautifully golden brown, and reminds me of excellent pickle-brined fried chicken.
This will be my first Thanksgiving without my grandmother. Grandma, this one’s for you. I promise it won’t be dry.
“The turkey looks dry!”
My late grandmother Tina would say this as she was walking in the front door of our home for Thanksgiving dinner, even though she was nowhere near the kitchen. Then she’d peek into the oven, tap me on the shoulder and say: “See? It looks dry. You should take it out.” In reality, the 14-pound turkey had only been in the oven for 45 minutes.
To be fair, some years, the turkey was a little dry. Never one to shy away from a challenge (and, because all those years of dry turkey accusations gave me a turkey complex), I became determined to serve grandma the juiciest turkey in the universe. I started experimenting with different brining techniques. I soaked cheesecloth in butter and blanketed the skin. I basted. I flipped the turkey halfway through cooking and basted some more.
I finally came up with a grandma-approved turkey recipe that doesn’t require eight different methods of brining, cooking and basting. I combine buttermilk, pickle brine and my favorite hot sauce to make the brine. Then I add seasoned butter both underneath and on top of the skin. The turkey comes out juicy, beautifully golden brown, and reminds me of excellent pickle-brined fried chicken.
This will be my first Thanksgiving without my grandmother. Grandma, this one’s for you. I promise it won’t be dry.
“The turkey looks dry!”
My late grandmother Tina would say this as she was walking in the front door of our home for Thanksgiving dinner, even though she was nowhere near the kitchen. Then she’d peek into the oven, tap me on the shoulder and say: “See? It looks dry. You should take it out.” In reality, the 14-pound turkey had only been in the oven for 45 minutes.
To be fair, some years, the turkey was a little dry. Never one to shy away from a challenge (and, because all those years of dry turkey accusations gave me a turkey complex), I became determined to serve grandma the juiciest turkey in the universe. I started experimenting with different brining techniques. I soaked cheesecloth in butter and blanketed the skin. I basted. I flipped the turkey halfway through cooking and basted some more.
I finally came up with a grandma-approved turkey recipe that doesn’t require eight different methods of brining, cooking and basting. I combine buttermilk, pickle brine and my favorite hot sauce to make the brine. Then I add seasoned butter both underneath and on top of the skin. The turkey comes out juicy, beautifully golden brown, and reminds me of excellent pickle-brined fried chicken.
This will be my first Thanksgiving without my grandmother. Grandma, this one’s for you. I promise it won’t be dry.
“The turkey looks dry!”
My late grandmother Tina would say this as she was walking in the front door of our home for Thanksgiving dinner, even though she was nowhere near the kitchen. Then she’d peek into the oven, tap me on the shoulder and say: “See? It looks dry. You should take it out.” In reality, the 14-pound turkey had only been in the oven for 45 minutes.
To be fair, some years, the turkey was a little dry. Never one to shy away from a challenge (and, because all those years of dry turkey accusations gave me a turkey complex), I became determined to serve grandma the juiciest turkey in the universe. I started experimenting with different brining techniques. I soaked cheesecloth in butter and blanketed the skin. I basted. I flipped the turkey halfway through cooking and basted some more.
I finally came up with a grandma-approved turkey recipe that doesn’t require eight different methods of brining, cooking and basting. I combine buttermilk, pickle brine and my favorite hot sauce to make the brine. Then I add seasoned butter both underneath and on top of the skin. The turkey comes out juicy, beautifully golden brown, and reminds me of excellent pickle-brined fried chicken.
This will be my first Thanksgiving without my grandmother. Grandma, this one’s for you. I promise it won’t be dry.
“The turkey looks dry!”
My late grandmother Tina would say this as she was walking in the front door of our home for Thanksgiving dinner, even though she was nowhere near the kitchen. Then she’d peek into the oven, tap me on the shoulder and say: “See? It looks dry. You should take it out.” In reality, the 14-pound turkey had only been in the oven for 45 minutes.
To be fair, some years, the turkey was a little dry. Never one to shy away from a challenge (and, because all those years of dry turkey accusations gave me a turkey complex), I became determined to serve grandma the juiciest turkey in the universe. I started experimenting with different brining techniques. I soaked cheesecloth in butter and blanketed the skin. I basted. I flipped the turkey halfway through cooking and basted some more.
I finally came up with a grandma-approved turkey recipe that doesn’t require eight different methods of brining, cooking and basting. I combine buttermilk, pickle brine and my favorite hot sauce to make the brine. Then I add seasoned butter both underneath and on top of the skin. The turkey comes out juicy, beautifully golden brown, and reminds me of excellent pickle-brined fried chicken.
This will be my first Thanksgiving without my grandmother. Grandma, this one’s for you. I promise it won’t be dry.
“The turkey looks dry!”
My late grandmother Tina would say this as she was walking in the front door of our home for Thanksgiving dinner, even though she was nowhere near the kitchen. Then she’d peek into the oven, tap me on the shoulder and say: “See? It looks dry. You should take it out.” In reality, the 14-pound turkey had only been in the oven for 45 minutes.
To be fair, some years, the turkey was a little dry. Never one to shy away from a challenge (and, because all those years of dry turkey accusations gave me a turkey complex), I became determined to serve grandma the juiciest turkey in the universe. I started experimenting with different brining techniques. I soaked cheesecloth in butter and blanketed the skin. I basted. I flipped the turkey halfway through cooking and basted some more.
I finally came up with a grandma-approved turkey recipe that doesn’t require eight different methods of brining, cooking and basting. I combine buttermilk, pickle brine and my favorite hot sauce to make the brine. Then I add seasoned butter both underneath and on top of the skin. The turkey comes out juicy, beautifully golden brown, and reminds me of excellent pickle-brined fried chicken.
This will be my first Thanksgiving without my grandmother. Grandma, this one’s for you. I promise it won’t be dry.
“The turkey looks dry!”
My late grandmother Tina would say this as she was walking in the front door of our home for Thanksgiving dinner, even though she was nowhere near the kitchen. Then she’d peek into the oven, tap me on the shoulder and say: “See? It looks dry. You should take it out.” In reality, the 14-pound turkey had only been in the oven for 45 minutes.
To be fair, some years, the turkey was a little dry. Never one to shy away from a challenge (and, because all those years of dry turkey accusations gave me a turkey complex), I became determined to serve grandma the juiciest turkey in the universe. I started experimenting with different brining techniques. I soaked cheesecloth in butter and blanketed the skin. I basted. I flipped the turkey halfway through cooking and basted some more.
I finally came up with a grandma-approved turkey recipe that doesn’t require eight different methods of brining, cooking and basting. I combine buttermilk, pickle brine and my favorite hot sauce to make the brine. Then I add seasoned butter both underneath and on top of the skin. The turkey comes out juicy, beautifully golden brown, and reminds me of excellent pickle-brined fried chicken.
This will be my first Thanksgiving without my grandmother. Grandma, this one’s for you. I promise it won’t be dry.
“The turkey looks dry!”
My late grandmother Tina would say this as she was walking in the front door of our home for Thanksgiving dinner, even though she was nowhere near the kitchen. Then she’d peek into the oven, tap me on the shoulder and say: “See? It looks dry. You should take it out.” In reality, the 14-pound turkey had only been in the oven for 45 minutes.
To be fair, some years, the turkey was a little dry. Never one to shy away from a challenge (and, because all those years of dry turkey accusations gave me a turkey complex), I became determined to serve grandma the juiciest turkey in the universe. I started experimenting with different brining techniques. I soaked cheesecloth in butter and blanketed the skin. I basted. I flipped the turkey halfway through cooking and basted some more.
I finally came up with a grandma-approved turkey recipe that doesn’t require eight different methods of brining, cooking and basting. I combine buttermilk, pickle brine and my favorite hot sauce to make the brine. Then I add seasoned butter both underneath and on top of the skin. The turkey comes out juicy, beautifully golden brown, and reminds me of excellent pickle-brined fried chicken.
This will be my first Thanksgiving without my grandmother. Grandma, this one’s for you. I promise it won’t be dry.
“The turkey looks dry!”
My late grandmother Tina would say this as she was walking in the front door of our home for Thanksgiving dinner, even though she was nowhere near the kitchen. Then she’d peek into the oven, tap me on the shoulder and say: “See? It looks dry. You should take it out.” In reality, the 14-pound turkey had only been in the oven for 45 minutes.
To be fair, some years, the turkey was a little dry. Never one to shy away from a challenge (and, because all those years of dry turkey accusations gave me a turkey complex), I became determined to serve grandma the juiciest turkey in the universe. I started experimenting with different brining techniques. I soaked cheesecloth in butter and blanketed the skin. I basted. I flipped the turkey halfway through cooking and basted some more.
I finally came up with a grandma-approved turkey recipe that doesn’t require eight different methods of brining, cooking and basting. I combine buttermilk, pickle brine and my favorite hot sauce to make the brine. Then I add seasoned butter both underneath and on top of the skin. The turkey comes out juicy, beautifully golden brown, and reminds me of excellent pickle-brined fried chicken.
This will be my first Thanksgiving without my grandmother. Grandma, this one’s for you. I promise it won’t be dry.
“The turkey looks dry!”
My late grandmother Tina would say this as she was walking in the front door of our home for Thanksgiving dinner, even though she was nowhere near the kitchen. Then she’d peek into the oven, tap me on the shoulder and say: “See? It looks dry. You should take it out.” In reality, the 14-pound turkey had only been in the oven for 45 minutes.
To be fair, some years, the turkey was a little dry. Never one to shy away from a challenge (and, because all those years of dry turkey accusations gave me a turkey complex), I became determined to serve grandma the juiciest turkey in the universe. I started experimenting with different brining techniques. I soaked cheesecloth in butter and blanketed the skin. I basted. I flipped the turkey halfway through cooking and basted some more.
I finally came up with a grandma-approved turkey recipe that doesn’t require eight different methods of brining, cooking and basting. I combine buttermilk, pickle brine and my favorite hot sauce to make the brine. Then I add seasoned butter both underneath and on top of the skin. The turkey comes out juicy, beautifully golden brown, and reminds me of excellent pickle-brined fried chicken.
This will be my first Thanksgiving without my grandmother. Grandma, this one’s for you. I promise it won’t be dry.
