Try telling that to your mother who's been handling the turkey for decades.
You get what you get and you either like it or you shut up and pretend that you do, because that's your mum and she's tired and hasn't seen you in weeks and turkey is always a little dry, trust me I know, I've been doing this since before you were born, eat it with some cranberry sauce, have you seen your cous...
When I lived on my own and worked in the restaurant industry, I took it as a point of pride to figure out how to do it well.
I tried brines, but found that simple salting and leaving it on the bottom shelf overnight was easier and just as effective.
And that cutting it up and cooking each part via sous vide was a more reliable way to cook the meat to an even tenderness.
And that I could still brown the skin on a cast iron pan on high heat afterwards.
And then experiment with sauces and dressing and spices because that's where a lot of the flavor and fun came from (for me).
And then decided it just wasn't worth it. Not when I can cook a chicken, a duck, and a Cornish hen for half the effort.
If you want to go through the effort and expense of doing it because that makes it special to you and you enjoy it, more power to you.
But Thanksgiving seems more like ritual torture for the vast majority of people who do it because we collectively accepted that it's "what you're supposed to do".
I support your right to love turkey at any level of doneness.
I should have specified that it's not worth it to families (or grocery store employees) to collectively pressure everyone in the country to buy a turkey during the same one-week period.
I have no recollection of the journey to the hospital. My clearest memory is being face down in a hospital bed, surrounded by doctors and nurses. I remember going into an MRI scan and giggling as they removed my nipple piercings. Looking back, it was clear I was in shock. It turns out the blade had gone 7.8cm deep in my back. It had partially severed a nerve in my spinal cord and missed my aorta by about a centimetre.
I have no recollection of the journey to the hospital. My clearest memory is being face down in a hospital bed, surrounded by doctors and nurses. I remember going into an MRI scan and giggling as they removed my nipple piercings. Looking back, it was clear I was in shock. It turns out the blade had gone 7.8cm deep in my back. It had partially severed a nerve in my spinal cord and missed my aorta by about a centimetre.
That sounds actually awesome.
I have no idea what that means, but it still sounds pretty good.