Buying a Christmas turkey. Sounds easy enough, right?
If I were in the states, I would go to the grocery store of my choice, find the poultry section and pick out a nice turkey. The turkey is all wrapped in sturdy plastic, all sorts of warnings and labels and such. Handy little red thingy that pops out when the turkey is done.
First of all, let me say that members of the poultry family are a “must” on the Malagasy Christmas dinner menu. In fact, they have a whole poultry hierarchy here in this country. Chickens are on the low end of the totem pole, next are ducks, then geese, then turkeys. Way up at the top of this poultry totem pole you can find “our” kind of turkey. There are very few places in this country where you can find good turkeys. Most of the turkeys you find in the stores or market could be cooked in a pressure cooker for a week and still not be tender. Okay, that is a slight exaggeration, but in all our years here, we’ve never successfully baked a Malagasy turkey. Anyway, so there is a “farm” here in the city, a business actually, that sells good fat, tender turkeys (as well as other members of the poultry family).
So I placed my order weeks ago…my turkey was to be picked up today.
I went to the place this morning and I tell you, I wish I had taken my camera. I found myself just standing there laughing. First of all, I go in the little “store” where I normally pick up my orders. This place was PACKED out – people buying “foie gras”, chickens, turkeys, eggs, you name it. Meanwhile, many people are opting to buy their poultry LIVE (insuring it’s freshness) so one guy is weighing these chickens. They are NOT happy about this and proceed to flap their wings and squawk or whatever chickens do. Feathers are flying. I am very happy that I ordered a dead turkey – plucked and ready for the oven. :)
After standing there for awhile, a lady comes and takes me around back. Meanwhile, trucks are being loaded with chickens and other squawking animals. She takes me into an office, sits me in the chair. There is a desk, laptop computer, various papers scattered around. Notebooks with “canard" (duck) written on them. Okay. I’m here to BUY a TURKEY, people!!! Why am I sitting in an office? But I sit and watch the show through the window.
The lady goes back out and gives orders to someone. The guy runs off and comes back with a turkey in a plastic bag. They weigh it. Discussion follows. I step outside and ask, is everything okay? Yes, madam, but this one only weighs 4 kilos so we’re going to get you a bigger one. No, that’s fine. I’ll take the 4 kilo one, thank you. (Hello? I’m only feeding four people here! That’s over 8 pounds of turkey.) So then the lady takes my paper over to another lady. This lady then proceeds to write out a detailed receipt for my turkey. Weighs so much. Costs so much per kilo. I’d paid a “deposit” so have to deduct that. Meanwhile, flies are flying ALL over the place. Chickens and other birds are still squawking. People are shouting orders and running around. I am quickly losing my appetite for anything with wings, feathers, and a beak. Maybe we should just have ham for Christmas? Hmm, no, then I’d have to go to a pig farm.
