Friendsgiving.

Thanksgiving had always been a massive affair at my house growing up — my parents would wake up at like 3 in the goddamn morning to start slow roasting the turkey and ironing a tablecloth the size of a football field.

I had always been brainwashed to assume that if a dinner table has more than one fork, that’s an indicator of quality. I also assumed turkey was supposed to be dry and flavorless, and the ritual bird I had been eating annually had in fact been the optimal iteration of it.

Not so.

Fast forward to some November Tuesday in college years ago. One of my friends had made a meal for a small group (maybe 6–8.) The turkey was incredible. I mean, juicy, flavorful, perfect. I was stunned. “How did you make this turkey? What’s your secret?????”

“I followed… the directions… on the package…?”

Apparently if you cook a turkey for less than 8 hours, it comes out less dry.