First, the letter that started this blog entry:
Thank you for your reply to our previous questions.Your advice was somewhat better than any of the advice that wise people rarely give to others on occasion. Since Rachel Ray won't lift that pesky restraining order and you have recently had a rather culinary slant to your blog, we had a food related question for you. We are planning our holiday menu and have come across this whole Turducken idea. Evidently, with Turducken you stuff a chicken into a duck and then stuff the chicken-duck into a turkey. Our problem is that we can't seem to get the duck to eat the chicken. All the birds do is waddle around and stare at each other. We also were wondering whether you have to remove the feathers first.With your turkey expertise, we figure this is probably an easy question for you. If we can't get this issue resolved, all we will have for the holidays is some pickled Tasso.
I apologize that I have been unable to help with your chicken/duck/turkey combination method. In our poultry yard, our birds are interested in supplementing their grain diet primarily with an abundance of grasshoppers. Apparently, in the poultry world, grasshoppers are the equivalent of Lay's potato chips - no bird can eat just one. So I'm afraid the birds served up on our table are nothing more than chippers or tuppers.
But what I really want to address is this troubling human tendency to use and combine foods in ways nature never intended. One has only to look back to the start of human history to see that we just can't leave well enough alone when it comes to food. Mr. & Mrs. Adam and that boy of theirs, Cain, got themselves into a heap o' trouble with food items, and here we are, thousands of years later, still stirring up sin in that den of iniquity, the kitchen. The only difference between us and them is the invention of Crisco, which is the culinary equivalent of electricity for our modern Frankenstein-like dietary creations.
Take, for instance, the humble Twinkie. The Twinkie is made up of 50% sugar, 40% fat, 10% air, and one milk molecule. Someone (probably a man) decided that his stomach was getting cheated by that 10% of air, so he decided to fry the Twinkie, thereby filling those little air pockets with grease. The fried Twinkie is now made up of 50% sugar and 80% fat. (I know that adds up to more than 100%. I told you this was weird science.)
Then there's vanilla cherry Dr. Pepper. Are you kidding me? Unadulterated Dr. Pepper is an acquired taste. Add in fake vanilla AND fake cherry flavors, and you get something resembling the flavor of something secretly dumped in the river by the local tire manufacturing factory.
Well, I would love to rant some more, but I must go. I haven't yet had my cup of coffee with chocolate pecan flavored pseudo-creamer, which I need to wash down my caramel vanilla artificial sugar-coated oat-flavored plywood chip cereal.