Little bird...

Well ladies, I have my turkey.  Admittedly, it's a legless bird, but based on Christmas' past, I'm sure it will fit in just fine with my family.

For too many years, I went to a rather expensive butcher and paid a small ransom for a turkey which had been spoon fed Scottish porridge whilst lying on a memory foam mattress with Debussy playing softly in the background.  And then last year Mrs S (Binland Mrs S) introduced me to the merits of Bob the Butcher and his cut price crowns.  I admit I was a bit dubious, and handing over £30 instead of £130 last year, I wondered whether I was doing the right thing.

I treated my bargain bird like it was made of gold, rubbing butter into the skin, and lovingly wrapping it in foil before putting it into the oven.  I'd been brave and didn't have a Plan B (a packet of Turkey Twizzlers in the freezer) so it was an anxious Bird who unwrapped the cooked one a couple of hours later.

Well it looked alright.

It carved beautifully.

And as to its taste?  Well I can honestly say that it was some of the best turkey I'd ever had, and over the course of the next few days, the whole lot was eaten.  Even daughter number one, who does not count herself a fan of the Christmas turkey, seemed impressed.

So yesterday, I drove an hour up the road to order up my turkey, and also to buy one for Miss R (I'd managed to talk her into getting one too) and having parted with £65 I turned to leave the butchers.

'See you next year then', shouted the butcher from his block.

Oh yes, I'm nothing if not consistent...