It’s #Thanksgiving horror story time. 1997, I’m 1 of a group of friends renting a row house on Adam’s Mill Rd NW, on the east side of the National Zoo. My housemates had all left town or were with family, so my plan was the stranded bachelor dinner.
2. The rule was, I’ll cook the bird, y’all bring sides & booze. There were about 8 of us. Didn’t you come to this, @clvnzrdz? There was a guy from my unit, some GW grad students, & a few odds & sods from different restaurants.
3. I had just put my bird in the oven & was having a smoke break on the back steps. To my right, I watched my next door neighbor set up his fryer. I offered to help, but he declined, so 🤷🏻♂️. I kept smoking.
4. Neighbor is cooking for 10 people, it’s his first time doing this & he wants to impress them. I asked, are you sure you’re good, ‘cause I’m happy to help. No, our hero says, this is his show & it’ll be awesome. So, like a crash on the freeway, I couldn’t stop watching.
5. I checked on my bird, all good, then had another cigarette & glass of wine. I might’ve even killed a whole bottle watching him prep his bird without gloves or anything resembling common sense. I did the sensible thing & went around the front, rang his doorbell.
6. I asked Mrs Hero, are you 100% confident in Hero? Otherwise, imma watch him self immolate like we’re in Saigon in 1962. I’ll just take my cordless phone out back, just in case. No, Dan, he’s so proud of himself, & his family will be here in an hour, no worries.
7. John, who volunteered for a veg side, arrived. He brought vegetables… in the form of 4 cans of De Monte green beans in a 7-11 bag 🤦🏻♂️. Fine, pour me some 🍷 & I’ll make a quick casserole. Mike brought 6 bottles of wine. Thank you sweet 8 # baby Jesus. Another guy brought pies.
8. Another guy made mashed potatoes & gravy. You get the idea. Back on the rear steps. Another 🚬 & 🍷. Hero is now ready to dunk his bird into the fryer. Oil was the right temperature. Except now I saw a problem.
9. I reached for my cordless phone. Hero hadn’t fully thawed his turkey. He was having problems sticking the spikes of the fryer basket through the sides. The legs didn’t move freely. One last offer of help.
10. Hero is standing right over the fryer. He’s sweating, even though it was cold as shit outside. He barely dunks his turkey, but the oil, sensing a partially frozen bird, protested by doing an imitation of this gif. I call 911 stat.
11. It looked like friggin Old Faithful with 400° oil, coming out of the neck hole. It splashed on Hero’s face, shoulders, & arms. It also started a nifty little fire, once the hot oil hit the burner. Hero is screaming. Mrs. Hero is screaming. Hero’s family arrived just then.
12. I had my CLS (combat lifesaver) bag at home, because I had planned on cleaning & repacking it that weekend. Sure as shit hadn’t planned on actually using it. I had Vaseline in my bathroom in lieu of burn cream, & used all the gauze & dressings I had in the CLS bag.
13. John found potting soil in Hero’s backyard & doused the oil fire with it. All my guys stamped out the smoking grass. When the bus came, I gave the EMT & firemen a rundown. They took him to GW hospital. Poor bastard. Anyway, I said to my guys, let’s eat.
14. So now, every year around this time, I toast Hero, whose name escapes me now, 25 years on. Here’s to you, backyard turkey frying hero. Your suffering can now serve as a lesson to similarly ambitious but hopefully more cautious home chefs on this holiday.
15. Here endeth the lesson. Be excellent to each other.
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