Short Story-Turkey Surprise

Published in The Post-Journal, What's Happening Western New York

                                  

Menu:  Roasted Wild Turkey, Mashed Potatoes & Homemade Gravy, Cornbread & Wild Rice Stuffing, Corn on the Cob.

Ummm...Sounds so good doesn't it? Well, let's "talk turkey".

One year I had the privilege to be involved in a very unique experience.  It was a first for all of us. The first wild turkey my boyfriend, Kevin had shot, a new stuffing recipe, the first crop of corn of the year in the stores. I should have expected...something.

I received the call at work. "Go get Josh," Kevin said excitedly, "I shot a turkey.  He can help me clean it."   I should have known I was in trouble when we first got there.  There lay the poor little gobbler-headless.  While my son and Kevin admired the poor creature and discussed the excellent hunting techniques involved in the kill, I wandered a little ways off.   I'm not a hunter, and even though I have been around hunters most of my life, I still don't feel very comfortable actually "meeting" my next meal.

While I was browsing through the trees, I spotted something blue lying in the leaves a few feet away.  "Oh good," I thought, "Bluejay feathers."  I walked over, bent down to pick up...the turkey's head.  "EEEyoo", I cried.  Then I looked around to make sure no one had noticed.  I non-chalantly walked back over to the guys and pretended to admire the turkey.

Okay, now came the part where we had to figure out how to clean it.  Well, obviously first we had to get the feathers off.  What  followed next was a 10 minute discussion on how to do just that.  Josh, Kevin and I all had different ideas, so we did the adult thing...called my grandma.  Grandma told us to dunk the turkey in boiling water and the feathers would come right out.  She was right, they did, all over my clothes, the table, Josh, Kevin, the cats...  Then the wind decided to kick up and help us out by blowing the rest of the feathers all over the place. Hopefully the neighbors didn't notice the feathers in their trees.

We got that step done and Kevin had the honor of removing all the lovely things inside a turkey.  No, they aren't in a neat little white bag like the ones in the store.  He was "game" about it and with alot of  "This is disgusting" from Josh, and a few "Don't you ever shoot another turkey!" from me, we cleaned it up, rinsed it off and I took it home to put into my freezer until Sunday.  We planned a real nice dinner with Kevin and I, his son Chalan and my son Josh.

Picture this...a log cabin in the woods on a sunny afternoon. The turkey is cooking.... it smells so-o-o good.  The corn is bubbling away on the stove, the potatoes are mashed and waiting for the gravy. Absolute perfection, right? It should have been....

We finished up the details of the meal and while Kevin carved the turkey, I made the gravy (only a little lumpy) and we sat down to dinner. We all helped ourselves to the food and dug in to eat.

Remember, this was our first taste of wild turkey. It was good, similar to tame turkey, but a little "wilder" tasting. I buttered my corn and took a big bite. I love corn, and we all know how wonderful that first ear of corn tastes.  I looked over at Kevin with a smile in my eyes, the corncob in my mouth and he said with a grin..."You have a worm on your corn."  I suppose Chalan really didn't mind the corn I spit at him. I'm just thankful that it was a whole worm.

Being the good sport I am, I just threw that cob away and bravely took another one.  I checked this one really really well.  With the worm memory still kind of fresh, I took a bite of the mashed potatoes.  Musty.  I had just bought them the day before!  What was this, a jinxed meal??  Well, with all that to contend with, we finished up eating, complimented the cook (which wasn't me) and that should be the end of the story.    Wrong.

Kevin was slicing off some more breast meat to send home with Chalan, when he called me over. "Do you know what this is?" he asked.  It was some dark jelly looking stuff near the breast.  "I have no idea", I said, "just don't cut into it." We didn't know, maybe it was supposed to be there.

The next day I received a phone call at my office from the turkey hunter himself, laughing hysterically.  At first he wouldn't tell me what was so funny. "You know that jelly-looking stuff we found in the turkey?" he asked.  "Yes...." I said hesitantly, with this funny feeling in my stomach.  I should have known I was in trouble by this time, but being the optimist I am, I let him go on.  "It was full of... " more hysterical laughter, "parts of grasshoppers, little red berries and grass." "Oh..." I said, "Grasshoppers???  Parts???"  Flashbacks of the worm danced through my head.

By this point I was laughing.  None of us had thought to remove the gizzard when we cleaned the turkey.  How were we to know???  I suppose my grandma thought one of us dummies would have had sense enough to take it out.

Menu: Roasted Wild Turkey garnished with Grasshoppers and Berries, Cornbread  & Wild Rice Stuffing, Musty Mashed Potatoes with Home-made Lumpy Gravy, Corn on the Cob with Freshly Boiled Worms.

Well, at least the poor turkey had his last meal ...and the last laugh.

Press Release-Local History and Creative Innovation Entwine

Released to the Chautauqua Star and the Post-Journal on November 8, 2010

Local History and Creative Innovation Entwine

The Beechwood Country House Restaurant-an eclectic, unique restaurant providing the area with fine cuisine and carrying on a tradition

Not so very long ago there was a man from this area that had a dream.  It wasn’t a huge dream.  It was small really, compared to many, but it was his.  So, working towards this dream, he went to culinary school at the age of 30 years old, graduated with honors and became a chef in various establishments, high-end and low through the years. Gradually working his way back home to Chautauqua County, he decided to make that dream he had fostered for so many years a reality. 

Taking possession of The Beechwood Country House Restaurant in February 2010, Tim and his wife Sarah, friend and employee Chelsea Newton, and various others spent many, many hours doing grubby, dirty work refurbishing, remodeling and restoring this landmark to an acceptable operating condition once again. With high hopes and confidence, Tim and Sarah Mills opened The Beechwood Country House Restaurant in May under new ownership.

The fireplace crackles for all to enjoy!

Absolutely everything made in the kitchen at The Beechwood is prepared fresh, and are not pre-bought frozen, jarred or canned entrées.  Mills uses his own freshly made pastas-not factory produced.  Each and every entrée is prepared à la minute-as it is ordered.  There is not a big pot of sauce simmering on the stove all evening waiting to be ladled over the pasta.  There is no warmer keeping the chicken hot, it is fried up or grilled to order.   Every item on the menu is prepared after that yellow slip goes into the kitchen from the server’s pad.

Guests are treated with respect and courtesy, the cuisine is fantastic as well as artful and creative, and the ambiance is marvelous. Chef Mills and the staff at the new Beechwood Country House Restaurant are always willing to accommodate dietary needs when possible and truly listen to their customers.  Mills and staff also strive to help out the local community in unique manners. 

Jeff & Beth Kresge enjoy their boobs!

In October, Chef Mills created a unique dessert to raise money for the local Cancer Services program in Chautauqua County.  The “Beechwood Boobie Bombe” brought smiles to the fine patrons that purchased them.  The price of the dessert was worth every penny to watch Chef Mills flambé it tableside with flair and finesse!

Though operating without a liquor license at present, there is no lack of beverages to choose from-smoothies, Kona Mocha Frappuccinos, Italian sodas, soft drinks, lattes, cappucinnos, espresso, a multitude of herbal and traditional teas as well as their fantastic coffee.  The process of getting a liquor license is long and expensive.  With luck, and with support from current patrons and new, Mills hopes to have the license by the new year.

The Beechwood Country House Restaurant is also available for private holiday parties and banquets.  Chef Mills, with his many years of experience, caters affairs on site or off.  A traditional sit-down Thanksgiving Dinner is also being offered by reservation only as well as home made pies for the holidays.  Call 716-526-4214 for reservations or pie orders.  Check out the lovely pies on the website as well as much more at http://thebeechwood.webs.com, or find The Beechwood Country House Restaurant on Facebook, Twitter, MerchantCircle and Ubanspoon.

Life can often get awfully dull and humdrum, and so can food.  Do yourself and your palate a favor and have a savory, unique culinary adventure at the NEW Beechwood Country House Restaurant. Experience and embrace some change in your lives!  You won’t be disappointed.

Published in "Survivor", The Post-Journal, October 30, 2010

My Story

I don’t know or remember where I heard this in reference to being a “survivor” but the gist was that you don’t know you’ve survived cancer until you die from something else.  A pretty morbid thought, isn’t it?  And sad, too.  Hearing this took away something I valued a lot-hope, and reinforced the Fear.  Fear has become my shadow and is akin to someone you don’t particularly like, but have to put up with.  Fear is there every minute of the day; greets me first thing in the morning and haunts my dreams.  Fear whispers, “It might come back, you know”. Fear is something that every single person that has had any type of cancer knows intimately.

I wasn’t afraid in the beginning, which always seemed odd to me.  I was determined to win the battle and “it” was not going to stand a chance.  Looking back, I don’t know where I found the strength to go through what I did with such hope and well, attitude.  None of it seemed to weaken me, or my resolve to survive.  I do know now, there were many, many times that I faked this good, positive attitude for someone else’s sake.  There were times of emotional confusion for me that I couldn’t even explain to myself.  The only one that truly saw the heartbreak, the sadness and the grief for what I had lost was my significant other, Kevin.  When my hair started to fall out, he cried for me.  But, bald or not, I was his and he stood by me through it all. 

I went through the chemotherapy easily, if you can say anything about chemo is ”easy”.  I never got sick from it and felt fairly normal most of the time.  Until I looked in the mirror of course.  I remember wondering, “Is this stuff even working?” because I ,like all of us, heard the horror stories about chemotherapy.  Well, it was working and in August 2008 I had a bilateral mastectomy.

I remember that day so well.  I was taken down to the surgical holding area and left there alone for about two hours.  My family had no idea where I was or what was going on.  I am glad that I had that time.  I remember I crossed my arms and held each breast in my hands.  I felt their weight, their warmth and I said good-by.  Memories of that first time my mom made me wear a bra were there…the first time they were touched …hugging my son to them…all there.  I said good-by to my breasts.

Before the reconstruction, I would often “feel” them-the weight of them.  It was a strange feeling, which I think was very similar to the phantom pain that amputees feel.  Each time it happened, I felt sad for a few minutes, remembering what was. I still feel a sense of loss.  My “new” ones are nice.  Or, rather will be when all the surgeries are done.  But, they aren’t the same.  They are cute and perky and always will be unless insurance companies are willing to pay to have reconstructed breasts “aged”.  I laugh a bit, thinking about being my grandmother’s age (95) and having nice firm tata’s. 

Cancer took much away from me-friends, my self-esteem, and at times, it took my life because “it” dominated every minute of the day if I let it.  I faltered at times, but I tried to be strong for myself.  I believed.  I believed in myself, in the power of love and mostly, I believed that I was strong enough to win.  I still believe that.

So, I truly AM a survivor!