by Paula Delaney

Created on: December 14, 2008

Two Guys, Two Turkeys

I was sitting at the bar, sipping a scotch and waiting for my niece to join me for dinner. Several times a week I'm in her neighborhood in Boston, so we try to connect as often as we can. The bar was pretty empty, but it was on the early side, 5:30. I figured the place would fill up in an hour, after the thirty-somethings got out of work and headed back to their neighborhood. I was actually enjoying the peace and quiet, since these bars tend to get too crowded and noisy for this young fifty-nine year old. "Been there, done that" as the saying goes.

I took out a book to read which is my usual routine when waiting alone at a bar. Having your hands on a book has many advantages. First, it gives you a great excuse to ignore the person who just sat next to you and looks like someone you think might have had one too many and was stopping as part of a pub crawl. Or, you can avoid the chatty out-of-towner who can't get enough of the city and wants your recommendation on anything from restaurants to tourist attractions to the closest Target. On the other hand, you can use the book to your advantage. It's always a good "hello helper." Someone sits next to you who you think could be interesting to talk to. But you're buried in a book, using the sure- fire "I will ignore you" technique. You can get out of this by starting to chuckle as you turn a page. Shake your head and smile as you're chuckling. Chances are that the person on the barstool next to you will be dying to know what book you're reading and start a conversation. If this doesn't happen immediately, check your voice volume. You may have to chuckle a bit louder or do anything short of falling off your barstool laughing. That night I was not really engrossed in my book and was distracted by a young man in his twenties who sat three empty stools to my left. He had a baseball cap on backward and was wearing casual work clothes. He had some facial hair, a goatee, but one that was thin and implied immaturity. I'm a writer, which also makes me the consummate eavesdropper. I tuned into the conversation between this guy and the bartender. Usually these male patron -to -bartender chats are about sports, which was what I expected. I put my book down when I realized that these two guys were talking about how they cook their turkeys. This was strange.

My bar mate expounded on how he deep -fries his turkey. The bartender winced, as I did, but as we listened to the mouth- watering description of a fried turkey, we became interested. Fortunately, the bartender asked my questions.

"Do people really like a "fried turkey? How do you prepare it? How long does it take to cook?"
We learned that my bar mate had mastered the skill of turkey frying. I learned that dipping the bird twice (slowly) into oil at the temperature of exactly 325 degrees was critical to the skin being crispy and the meat being moist. I started to think that frying at Thanksgiving was the way to go. The bartender shared his own turkey preparation regimen. He said "I grill it." There was a pause and the conversation turned back to frying.

My niece arrived. She apologized for being late. I told her it wasn't a problem2. I had a chance to hear two guys talking about their turkeys, instead of their favorite football team. How refreshing.

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