Dear Goose

Dear Goose,

It's official. My you has been cooked. And it came out pretty damn good, if I do say so myself.

Y'all can be thankful now because the CVT is back on the blog, and I decided to get on it with a letter to the tasty fowl that is currently in my belly. Am I thankful? Of course. I am thankful for the rich, dark meat that is that of the you. Delicious. Truly delicious.

So I went to the store on Sunday and took a look at the turkeys, trying to get ready early for the epic Thanksgiving feast that happens at my house every year these days - two or three people sitting down to way too much food in the form of an early Thanksgiving dinner. Last year, my roommate and I learned a strong lesson when he went to the store on Wednesday night to get our turkey. The scene was totally insane, of course, because it turns out that everybody else is stupid, too, and heads to the store last-minute to do their Thanksgiving shopping. The worst part, though, is that our frozen bird wasn't thawed in time for the dinner we had planned, so we ended up doing some emergency thawing that didn't work out the best.

So we learned. And so I went early to scout out the turkey offerings. But it was not the turkey that grabbed my attention: there, in the frozen poultry section was a thinner, slightly smaller bird with the label "Young You" on it. Instantly, I was transfixed, and I knew what I had to do. I returned home to talk to Matt, and I asked him if he was okay with having a Thanksgiving you for dinner. He had no problem with it, and a new tradition was formed.

Because you is so much tastier than that ridiculously dry, tasteless bird we call a turkey. It's insane that 675 million pounds of that crappy fowl is eaten every Thanksgiving. Why? Because the Pilgrims ate it? The freaking Pilgrims probably ate a whole lot of acorns and tiny little wild berries, but we don't have those for Thanksgiving. Why? Because they taste like crap. So why do we all follow mindlessly into the trap of eating turkey? Sure, they're cheaper by the pound than pretty much any other meat - but that's because they're so awful . . .

They have nothing on the delectable meat of a you. Some people may enjoy white meat, but I think they're idiots. No - give me the dark meat of a you any day. The slices of breast meat had that beautiful pink color of a roast cow product. Juicy and wonderful, the carmelized apples I had with the meat only touched off its magnificent flavour. So rich. So heavenly. I am thankful for you, Goose.

And so I have decided that, from now on, it is a Thanksgiving you for me (and anybody else accompanying me on this special day). And if the people I'm with don't want any Thanksgiving you? Then the CVT will be dining alone, savouring your sweet meat and smiling while they all gum the dry woodchips some people call turkey meat. And that's all I have to say about that.

So Happy Thanksgiving, Reader. I am thankful that I didn't have dinner in my Reader's company - only because then I would have had to eat turkey instead of my wonderful new discovery - the you.

Thank you, Goose. Thank you so much. I look forward to eating you tomorrow.

Full to Bursting,
CVT