As they aged, both my mother and mother-in-law remarked they’d lost their ability to cook. I seem to be getting there myself. Lately many of my culinary attempts fall short, a major frustration during the holiday season.

This year it started with Thanksgiving when I decided against cooking a turkey. Why get up before dawn to lift a twenty-plus pound turkey into the oven when all I had to do was order it prepared from a grocer.

While other than regularly basting the turkey, it’s a very easy main dish to cook. However, the prep part can be a pain. Thawing the bird in the ‘frig needs to begin well in advance. Failure to do so requires it be plunged into a sink of cold water, at a carefully maintained temperature or else your guests will be making a trip to the ER with Salmonella or some such.

In my case, the turkey never seems to thaw completely so while the red streaks of dawn are trying to make their way into my kitchen window, I have my hand in the innards of the bird trying to pull out those still frozen bags of gizzards and liver and that gross looking neck. All of these are promptly disposed of at my house. One year the turkey was practically done when I found a foreign object inside the turkey. I’d missed one of those bags during the preparation. The delicacy that year was cooked paper.

The worst Christmas turkey story occurred the year I had the epiphany to purchase a fresh bird. I’d promised a turkey for Christmas supper at my Mom’s — enough to feed a houseful of relatives. I decided rather than doing all the prep work, I’d buy an unfrozen turkey instead.

Christmas morning arrived. Our little family went through the normal ritual. I was in the constant rush where young mothers seem to reside and had only a small window of time to get the turkey into the oven before going to my husband’s grandparents’ house.

But you know where the problem lies in buying an unfrozen turkey? You have to actually buy such a bird fresh, not one two or three weeks in advance. I won’t even begin to describe the stench when I peeled the bag off that turkey. You get the picture. I was just beside myself. What was I going to do? This was rural Woolwine on Christmas morning — it’s not like I could run down the street a block or two and find a substitution.

During all this drama my mother-in-law called to extend Christmas greetings. My husband explained the dilemma and thankfully, she provided a backup plan. It won’t be turkey, she said, but there were several bags of chicken breasts in her freezer. I filled up my Crockpots and off we went to Grandma’s house. That night my mother made gravy, the chicken was delicious, and no one ever missed the turkey.

So as I said previously, this year I ordered turkey for Thanksgiving. Came sliced, all I had to do was heat it up. It was fine, but here’s the drawback. No legs, no wishbone, no broth for gravy. A learning lesson — next year we will do the big turkey again.

These days I am the fortunate guest for Christmas dinner cooked by our beautiful daughter-in-law and hosted by her and our son.  I don’t have to worry about the turkey. Age has its advantages.