Rule #98: Always Brine the Bird
Life is complicated and hard. Some of what I write in this blog is meant to simplify and focus your choices. I try to be profound. But with time—and when I’m long gone—you may find these are just the ramblings of a delusional old man.
Still, sprinkled among these life rules I leave for my kids are a few absolutes—things I am certain of beyond a doubt. This is one of them:
Always brine your bird.
As a young man, I wasn’t sure I’d ever get married. I definitely wasn’t thinking I’d be the father of six kids. But life, as it tends to do, happened. I just followed where the universe seemed to be guiding me.
Along the way, I picked up some survival skills—cooking among them. And as it turns out, I really enjoy it. Like a hack comedian, I love playing to a big room. The more people I cook for, the better I think I do.
Turkey is one of those foods that screams family and gathering. Nobody thinks to themselves on a Tuesday at 5 p.m., “You know what sounds good? Let’s roast a whole turkey and watch Yellowstone.” Turkey is for company.
And company requires prep—you clean the bathrooms, declutter the house, and plan a meal worthy of stretchy pants. That’s where turkey comes in. It’s warm, abundant, and—when done right—juicy. People can bring their own sides, but turkey is always center stage.
And when that turkey hits the table, it better sing. If not, you risk your guests swinging by Taco Bell on the way home.
So how do you make sure that bird doesn’t disappoint?
You brine it.
No matter the brand—fresh or frozen—the most critical step is prep. Specifically, brining. Even if it’s just for four hours (though 24 is ideal), it makes all the difference.
Poultry, turkey especially, can be bland. It dries out easily in the cooking process. If you can, smoke it (trust me). But no matter how you cook it, brining is key.
And as with all things in life—relationships, work, family—it’s the prep time that matters.
Life can be bland if you don’t take the time to season it. We have to add spice, bring flavor, find joy. This is true for turkeys—and also for marriages, parenting, and yes, foot rubs. But that’s another rule…
My Go-To Citrus Brine Recipe:
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1 cup sea salt
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1 lemon, cut into wedges
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1 orange, cut into wedges
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1 medium onion, cut into wedges
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3 cloves garlic (because the soul is made of garlic)
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4 bay leaves
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1 tbsp dried thyme
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1½ gallons of water
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1 cup bourbon (because why the hell not?)
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½ cup sugar
Start with a fully defrosted bird. Mix the ingredients and submerge the turkey in a bucket or large container. Toss in about ½ cup of ice and refrigerate.
Time is the secret ingredient—for turkey, business, and a good sex life. Don’t rush it. Don’t overdo it. At least 4 hours, no more than 24.
After brining, remove the bird and pat it dry. Add your favorite dry rub. This is where your personal touch matters. I like using rosemary and thyme, and coating the bird in a mix of mayo and butter. Yes, mayo. Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it—it’s perfect for smoking and gives a beautiful golden brown.
Cooking a turkey also means carving and presentation. This is the perfect time to reflect. On the gifts of friends and family. The joy of a shared meal. The blessing of being together.
That’s what the bird is really about.
Happy Thanksgiving.
Love,
Dad