Confessions of an L-tryptophan addict

Confessions of an L-tryptophan addict
by Ted Mallory Charter Oak-Ute NEWSpaper Thursday, December 2, 2004

I sent out a letter to LYF parents about the annual Thanks-Giving dinner toward the end of October/ at the beginning of November. Still, one parent thought I should cover my bases. With church attendance what it’s been, not to mention the pastor-vacancy and the shrinking sizes of junior high and high school classes…we worried about whether we’d have enough food and enough help.

So I sent out another letter the week before and I decided to make phone calls. The prospect of calling all eighteen high school students in the congregation seemed a little daunting. I’m not exactly phone-phobic, but it’s not something I enjoy or do well. I prefer to let my fingers do their walking on a keyboard for emails or newsletters.

I eliminated calls before I began. There are three sets of siblings in LYF, no need to call people twice. Eight of the eighteen are pretty faithful in their participation, of course four of them are two of those three sets of siblings. That left nine phone calls of people who either participated part of the time or were as a Pastor or church Elder might refer to as “delinquent.”

One family had moved away, that narrowed it down to eight. Moving creates bureaucratic hang ups. The small, rural, conservative Lutheran church sits waiting for some official letter or application or notice of transfer of church membership or something the same way things were done in the nineteenth century. Things are so fluid and fickle in California that you just assume people aren’t members anymore if they’ve been gone for a month.

So I started calling. The two siblings were in, that was good news, although we only asked for one turkey from each family, not one from each kid. Some one else had bought a house and was going to move later this year. Their plan was to pain the new house the weekend of the dinner, but they’d bring food, great. Thanks. Someone else was having their big, extended family’s official family Thanksgiving that weekend. Understandable, thanks for letting us know, oh well, catch ya next year. Someone else was moving back into their home after months of rebuilding. More than understandable, do what ya gotta do.

Another, I don’t know if we’ll be there but we’ll send the food, Okay, thanks. Another, oh, we’re visiting family out of state that weekend, but we’ll send the food. Great, it wasn’t pre-cooked, but I could take care of that. I left a message on a the machine of another, but they never got back to me. Is that more than eight yet? Probably, that’s why I teach Art and not Math.

The hardest was the kid who apparently thought that I was assuming that they were their parent. They flatly told me that they would not be participating and then started giggling at me derisively as they hung up. I don’t know if they thought I had hung up already or just thought I was that stupid. Oh well. It wasn’t my intention to try to force them to do something they didn’t want to or that they thought would be boring or too much work. I see the turkey dinner as a service to the congregation and the community. And, I see the youth group as a way to have fun while growing in your faith. Maybe this kid sees us as dumb or lame or whatever kids call things that they don’t like these days. C’est la Vie, time to apply Luke 10:10-12.

At any rate. I figured, we’d have at least 10 or 12 turkeys, surely that would be enough to serve the average 160 people who come through the line every year. I had gotten the ingredients for Edna Johansen’s stuffing. One of the moms had gotten the groceries for corn and cranberries. I even took care of the potatoes with Staley’s. That sounds like no big deal, but as a non-detail, attention deficit afflicted guy like me, that was a personal victory. Sorry to come in last minute, as usual. Rick, thanks for saving me.

I figured that even if we only had six core kids and a couple of parents, we could handle the work. One mom offered to make two turkeys just in case. I thought about doing that too, although I already had two to make, mine and that family who was going out of state. The next worry was whether or not anyone would come. It used to be that Church was at 9:45 and people pretty well just filed down right after Church at 11. With the vacancy, St. John begins services at 8:15. Would people come back for lunch after going home for an hour?

My alarm went off at it’s usual 5:30 Saturday morning.

“Are you going to put your turkey in?” Beth asked.

I usually turn my alarm off on weekends, so I was crabby as a bear woke early from hibernation.

“Mmmggrg.” I mumbled. “It takes four hours, if I were going to have it done by the time we go in to decorate I would’ve had to start it an hour ago. Leavemealone. ZZZZZZ.”

Eventually I did get the first bird in by seven. There were six kids and two parents at the church to decorate and set tables at nine. A few of the usually true-blue boys weren’t there because they were at the Harlan football game at UNI. I can’t blame them. But we no only did a terrific job, we got done in record time- just one hour.

At eleven I checked my turkey. Toast. Hmmm, I don’t get it. The label said “3-4 hours for 10-12 lb turkeys” and “3 ½-51/2 for 12-15 lb turkeys.” So why did 4 hours do this?

“T-E-D!” Beth turned my name into a three syllable word. “Weren’t you WATCHING it? What did you think that little red button that pops out is for?”

She went to Denison to buy a replacement, along with some groceries for our own pantry. I set to work salvaging what I could. Surprisingly, only the first outer inch or so was really ruined. Once you got deeper in there was a lot of juicy meat. I pulled as much off the bones as I could and then got busy on my pumpkin pies. MMMM, does that ever make a house smell good! I’m proud to say that Martha Stewart would be proud! They were the best two pies I’d ever made. No over flow, no burnt crust, set up nice and firm. (of course, I did check on them every fifteen minutes or so.)

No sooner than I set the turkey in Tupperware out on the porch, the neighborhood cats started barking at our door. I thought it would be wise to put the turkey safely inside the refrigerator.

Turkey number two was probably the best tasting of the three. I know because I tested each of them. I think I learned from Julia Child that you’re supposed to do that sort of thing. I even found Biblical precedent for it: For the Scripture says, "Do not muzzle the ox while it is treading out the grain," and "The worker deserves his wages." ~1Timothy 5:18

Some people loath turkey. Others tolerate it once or twice a year. I could have it once a week. I think it’s great. Maybe it’s that it’s a comfort food. Maybe it’s that it’s got a deeper flavor than chicken, like Bison compared to beef, turkey makes chicken seem boring. Maybe it’s the L-tryptophan, that famous enzyme that makes you sleepy.

Turkey number two wasn’t done till eight or nine at night. It was definitely the best looking of the three. Reddish. Although, since the oven had been on 350º for twelve hours, some of the plastic from the top of the bag had melted onto the skin of the bird. Of course, this could also have been because when I put the turkey in the bag, the bottom fell out, so I had to tie it at both ends, rather than just one.

What a wonderful turn out! Not only did we have nine kids, but we had eleven of their parents helping on the line and in the kitchen. Not only that, but we didn’t just have 160 guests, we had around 200! Maybe it was a miracle, but we had just enough food too. Most years all the LYF families negotiate over who gets stuck with the leftovers. This year, there weren’t enough to worry about. And needless to say, people were very generous. Hopefully the offering will make up for any future revenue shortfalls LYF has because of a smaller and smaller membership preventing further fundraisers. Thank you Thank you Thank you.

So, three days later we loaded up the girls and drove to Sioux Falls, where Beth’s cousin has to worry about cooking. I can just enjoy the soothing effects of the tryptophan, and watch the Detroit Lions beat whoever they’re matched up against this year.

Thank you Charter Oak, thank you LYF kids and parents, and Thank you, Lord. Now, if I could just figure out what to get my parents and brother and his wife for Christmas!