there’s always room for…

Several years ago, a close group of my college cohorts created a yearly event called “Turducken.” It is a gluttonous weekend shared between longtime friends who gather around a excessively fowl creature of gastronomical delight, pun absolutely intended. If you don’t know what a turducken is, well my friend, I do not envy you. But I also do not have time to teach you things you should already know. There’s this thing called Google. Look it up.


Meat orgy.

In the passing of Turducken celebrations, there have been ugly sweater contests, haiku writing competitions and redneckery. We have enjoyed snowstorms and mural painting sessions, and monstrous games of Scrabble where we learned that some of our friends don’t know any words that contain more than three letters. Discussions of politics and religion are always encouraged. Prank phone calls are suffered by those who do not attend. And the food. Sweet baby Jesus, the food. That tri-fecta of birds and bacon is lovingly surrounded by potatoes and veggies smothered in cheese, casseroles and pies. And dozens upon dozens of deviled eggs.

It is my turduckenly duty every year to supply two things: deviled eggs and Jello shots. Unlikely bedfellows, for sure, but staples of this hallowed holiday’s traditions. My quantities of production have had to increase each year of the event. If I recall correctly, 2012 required 6 dozen deviled eggs and somewhere around 160 Jello shots. My friends are animals.  And honestly, every event involving my SMC alumni requires that I bring the same two party supplies.  I swear I have other culinary talents, but if it ain’t broke…

Anywho, this is not a story about egg farts or vocabulary. This, shockingly, is a story about booze. I’ll give you a moment to process. I need to finish this growler of Burley Oak’s Sour Trip before it goes bad, and that would be a travesty.

. . .

What follows is the email that I sent to the fellow members of my Turducken clan. Now I warn you, with medium such as email, Facebook or poetry, I do not bother with the constructs of capitalization or punctuation. Sometimes I talk like a 12 year old boy. Please do not judge me:

holy shit, dudes. i just had a momentous idea. or at least i think it is, so screw what you think. you’re doing it anyway.

so i was researching buying jello shot cups in bulk online (there’s a phrase no one in this email thread has ever typed before) and i discovered that there are at least 5 different methods of jello shot delivery. i have read reviews on all of them and we, ourselves, have tried at least 2 or 3, depending on which of the rest of you have been to the freaky tiki in myrtle beach. there are so many pros and cons for each method that i could not decide on which to go with. so here’s where you come in: i am going to turn turducken into a literal testing grounds. i am bringing jello shots in all 5 forms of delivery, the classic and the newfangled. i will make up comment cards for you all to fill out on your experimentation with all forms. not only will this solve the dilemma of which vessels will be further used in all events, but i am going to create a damn hilarious and informative blog on our findings. everyone will receive credit when i get famous. i will never forget the little people.

so, who’s in? or should i say, who is lame enough to protest?

Yes, that’s right kiddies. This mid-thirties woman just found a way to combine her love of academia with her insistence on binge drinking like a 21 year old fresh off the graduation stage.

Sure, there is almost always alcohol consumption when old friends get together. I would love to say that our tastes have matured over the years, but the truth is that we have simply expanded our repertoire. We still love our cheap canned beer, but we also share some of our favorite local craft beers and homebrews. Our wine now comes in a bottle instead of a cardboard box with an udder. We like to pretend that coffee drinks cancel each other out. But, Jello shots: there is an alcoholic concoction that just screams, “I want to pass out under the dining room table and hate myself for three days.”

It’s a sickness. And a life choice.

In the time of this project I will be letting you witness my important research. You know, pictures and graphs and shit. Okay, not graphs. I have an English degree, people. But maybe charts, if I can find an easy program online. It would be hilarious if one of you would create a PowerPoint slideshow. I don’t even really know what that means.  Please feel free to share any experience you have in this area of study. All recipes and advice will be gratefully accepted, although I will probably just do what I want.

PS ~ I have only received one response to my email as of yet. It was one of the Turducken founders telling me that he had a dream last night about eating too many Jello shots. Yeah. I think it’s a sign.

UPDATE:  This might be the most evil Amazon cart I have ever loaded:



Now to decide flavors…