Cock Gobbler (by request)

It never ceases to amaze me what people will put in their mouths. There seems to be no limit to the greasy girth of meat, around which good folks will wrap their lips, and slide down their throats. Gag reflex aside, that much sloppy protein must surely have some negative long-term detriment.

I speak, of course, of that obscene flesh-orgy known in southern circles as the mighty Turducken. Yes, the Turducken, the glutinous gastronomic abomination of Dixie.

What? You've never heard of this food-fetish Frankenstein? Well, dear friend, this is why you come to the lounge, a little entertainment, a little education, and a little revulsion.

Classically, the Turducken begins with a Turkey. A big-ass massive bird, the biggest you can buy. Strip the body cavity of giblets and all other manner of superfluous fowl flesh, and coat the inner lining with bread crumbs, cranberries, and spam. Next, insert into said cavity one de-boned whole duck. That’s right, a duck. Shove it right on in there.

Using the business-end of a wooden spoon, caulk any gaps, spaces or visible crevices with the above-mentioned spackle-stuffing. Then, take one whole de-boned chicken and shove it into the ass-end of the duck, all the way in. Use your foot if you have to.

Back in the day, that would constitute the entire sum total of a Turducken. The ubiquitous confederate chicken chef would reverently lower the bird mass into the deep fryer and VOILA, Thanksgiving dinner!

Oh, but never stand in the path of progress. No, never, not when there is a bird carcass crevice to stuff. For you see, in recent years, Turducken pioneers began to experiment with the holy of holies, the inner sanctum, the dark pit at the heart of the smallest bird. And then some guy named Bubba, a virtual Einstein of hillbilly cuisine, discovered that there was in fact another bird compact enough yet to wedge into the Chicken. This bird, of course, was the Cornish game hen.

So, now, the modern Turducken consists of a Turkey, stuffed with a duck, stuffed in turn with a chicken, which is stuffed itself with a game hen. Now, personally, if I were to create one of these carnivals of carnal craving, I may roast it overnight on a bed of apples slathered under a sheath of bacon. However, the current methodology seems to include the masterful employment of a smoker or a deep fryer. It makes one proud, in a way, to be an American. I mean, you never hear of Pierre over in Paris, or Abdul in Azerbaijan, coming up with anything like this…