A shocking Thanksgiving confession: why turkey is a no-go, ham is too much pressure, and crispy sage fried chicken is the ultimate holiday power move.
I have a confession—a spicy little truth that might ruffle a few feathers, especially around this time of year: I hate turkey. Yes, I said it. I hate turkey. And this isn’t some trendy, anti-mainstream stance I picked up as an adult; no, this disdain runs deep. It’s been with me since I was five, and let me tell you, it hasn’t exactly made me the MVP at family Thanksgivings.
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The NO-Turkey Years
For years, I played along, drowning slices of turkey in a flood of gravy and stuffing just to get through it without gagging—or offending anyone. But at the ripe old age of nine, I decided enough was enough. I’d cut it up, shuffle it around my plate, and feign satisfaction. Nobody noticed, and I thought I had the perfect system… until my uncle, bless his creepy heart, loudly announced at age 13 that he’d been “watching me” avoid his turkey masterpiece. Cue the shame spiral. For the first time ever, I admitted—out loud, in front of a table full of family—that I hated turkey. You’d think I confessed to moonlighting as an axe murderer.
The reactions were unreal. “Oh, you just haven’t had my turkey.” “Wait until you try this recipe!” Thus began the annual tradition of “Let’s Cook a Turkey Ashby Will Actually Eat.” Spoiler alert: they all failed. At best, I left everyone disappointed. At worst, I made things weird by refusing to pretend their turkey wasn’t just as dry and flavorless as all the others. (I was also a moody teenager, which certainly didn’t help the vibe.)
The Alternative Years
By 17, my stepmom took a creative swing and made a duck instead. A noble effort! Except, surprise—I hate duck more than turkey. The following year, my aunt pulled a double-duty feast with turkey and ham, and while I like ham, they somehow decided I was responsible for devouring half of it single-handedly. Cue more weirdness. I’ve never had a huge appetite, and the pressure was suffocating.
The Years of Sides
Eventually, I found my salvation in the sides. When the inevitable “What meat should we make for Ashby?” texts start rolling in pre-Thanksgiving, I’ve learned to politely insist, “I’ll be fine with sides, thanks!” Thanksgiving is a starch paradise, after all. Stuffing, mashed potatoes, casseroles, buttery bread rolls—it’s basically carb heaven, and I am here for it. And yet, every other year, someone still surprises me with a special ham and the implied expectation to eat the entire thing myself. (Pro tip: this is not a compliment. It’s exhausting.)
The Year of Sage Fried Chicken
But this year? This year, I’m coming prepared. Instead of pretending to love surprise ham or suffer through turkey out of politeness, I’m sending the host this absolute banger of a recipe: Crispy Sage Fried Chicken. Imagine the satisfaction of demolishing a plate of golden, crispy perfection while everyone else sadly stares at their dry, boring roasted turkey. Honestly, it’s the ultimate power move. Let’s do this.
Recipe: Crispy Sage Fried Chicken Recipe
