Once upon a time, in the realm of food writing, there was a column titled "Turkey, Revisited." Just as Philip Larkin's "Toads, Revisited" left its mark, this exploration of turkey was about to unfold. Years ago, in these very columns, the author expressed a deep dislike for the bird. Messages from readers still echoed this sentiment from time to time. Riffing on Jeffrey Steingarten's essay, where a legendary turkey recipe boasted 32 ingredients, the author detailed their adventures with a Kelly Bronze turkey. From the baroque trumpets that accompanied its entry to the spa treatments for its skin and the fine cashmere tea towel that covered it before carving, it was a tale of extravagance. Yet, in the end, the author concluded that all their efforts had been in vain, resulting in about 3kg of just "OK" turkey.

Why the Return to Turkey?

The author's aversion to turkey has only grown stronger over the years. It's not that they've seen the light; rather, it's a matter of nature. Just as they've made up their minds about certain people, they've firmly decided about turkey. Additionally, with the passage of time, they've become more environmentally conscious. Turkey, with its potential for waste, no matter how many leftover korma recipes one reads, is a constant source of concern. But there's more to it. Turkey has been financially weaponized, with certain circles only accepting it if it's ordered with a gold Amex in late August from a butcher driving a hybrid Range Rover. The very word "premium" represents the longstanding divide between food production and consumption in the country. Wouldn't it be better if all birds were of moderate to good quality rather than most being cheaply reared and only a privileged few enjoying the poultry equivalent of Eton?

The Most Expensive Turkey

Recently, the author read about "Britain's most expensive turkey" in a newspaper. This fowl could be purchased from a butcher in Holland Park, where the big stuccoed houses resembled iced Christmas cakes. A hefty one would set customers back more than £360, justified by a diet of nettles, wild blackberries, and fresh oats, along with a hearty outdoor life. Such talk was highly contagious. At the author's preferred supermarket, the prices were high and the patter seductive. Even if one's head knew there might be no difference, the heart couldn't resist the thought of adding this dry-plucked turkey to the virtual basket. It was an irresistible temptation.

Alternatives to Turkey

Good food is often more expensive than bad food, but there's no reason it should be only for the rich. The author revisits their argument from a decade ago. Turkey, even with a luxurious life of listening to Michael Bublé sing carols and nibbling on lychees, is distinctly underwhelming. It's not even half as nice as chicken, duck, or pheasant. Why not choose one of these instead? One can still have all the trimmings, and potatoes, parsnips, and red cabbage are not easily marked up in price. Fortnum & Mason sells lovely marzipan vegetables, but they might not be the best place to find an actual carrot.

The Key to Culinary Happiness

The author believes that the key to culinary happiness on Christmas Day lies in good and copious gravy and bread sauce. Keeping an eye on the roasties is crucial to ensure they reach optimum crunchiness. One definitely doesn't want to end up like Larkin, with disappointing tubers that "unwreathed themselves, like something at a seance." By focusing on these aspects, one can create a truly memorable Christmas feast.