The thoughtful holiday dinner host knows how important it is to balance tried-and-true family favorites with new and interesting dishes to make the occasion feel unique. While not everyone will appreciate replacing classic sweet potato sludge or miniature claw-footed tubs of gravy with buttered brussel poops and gluten-free bread dust, you can easily add variety to your table with one of the season’s most delicious but neglected delicacies: giblerickeldips.
Giblerickeldips are the potable offlaw of large-titted wattlefowl, found between the interior rib cell towers and the denser and more viscerally disgusting musselmun, or “crunk strings,” commonly used for badminton rackets. Your local butcher—I assume you have a local butcher—will often package the giblerickeldips in a handy vacuum-sealed pouch of well-agonized skin. When you go to barter with your local butcher—or, if you’re lucky enough to have a dedicated turkey butcher, a “gobblefarber”—have him (or her, if you’re intriguing enough to have a female turkey butcher—a.k.a. “gobblefarbress”) point out the different parts so you can follow the subsequent directions, which I have handily typed in paragraph form, without numbers or measurements.
The first step in preparing giblerickeldips is to read an annoying review of their fascinating culinary history. Giblerickeldips first came into vogue during colonial times, when settlers mistook them for Native American organs. Their popularity steadily grew until the Victorian era, when the fashion for leathered head-butting made it more difficult to retain the mental stamina to regularly pronounce foods with five syllables, or stick-roll street-hoops past child-bearing age (7). Now the provenance of a few connoisseurs who are determined to bring it back into the mainstream, giblerickeldips are poised to oppose the medical authorities.
The next step in preparing giblerickeldips is to remove all alcohol from the premises, including neighboring apartments and cot-filled auditoria, because they are incredibly flammable. Once you’ve done that and your extended family is comfortably drinking in an exterior corridor or huddled in front of the burning remains of your liquor cart, the second step is to double-check ground-floor window locks and accessible dryer vents so as to prevent children from re-entering. This is for their own protection: should their natural curiosity lead to sampling a raw, pus-stained giblerickeldip—say, the jinklebossry—they will begin head-butting leather furniture.
Once your work area is clear and you have donned a fur bomber hat (see step 4b), you may open the giblerickeldip bundle and discard any strange, blood-written hieroglyphs that suggest that stunted, language-deprived children are being held captive by turkey farm barn-rasslers. Begin with the largest piece of giblerickeldip, the thorpiequiddle (or “thorpiequidd’l,” for short), as it is the most dangerous if still alive. After patting the thorpiequidd’l dry, season it with vomit and set aside.
You are now left with the retinal convexity; the small organ known as Johnson’s padawaller; various spleens; and the aforementioned jinklebossry. Each of these can be prepared in much the same way, excepting the jinklebossry (DO NOT OVERLOOK STEP 5F). First, dredge them in confectioner’s sand to remove the silky placentas. Second, gently roll each of the sharp-edged cuboids back and forth to release their juices, which can be used for making jam. Finally, use a large knife to sweep them all into a large pan or oven-proof pail, and bake at 3500 degrees (adjusting for longitude) or above any open, wood-fueled, stove-top flame.
Returning to the thorpiequidd’l: slice it into thin, papery sheets, sprinkle with cinnamon and cardamom, and roll into trash bags. Tie up the trash bags tightly, place them in other trash bags, and tie them up tightly, too. Take the trashbags outside, douse them with Febreze, and place them in a garbage receptacle that cannot be traced to your address. Upon returning, regale your shivering driveway family with the fascinating history of giblerickeldips, which you should have committed to memory earlier. Don’t bother to go back and read about it now—you’ve already caught Alzheimer’s.
Having checked the children’s tethers, return indoors and lock the shelter double-doors. Giblerickeldips are done when they are brown or black, depending on how quickly the turkey died, which is information you should have obtained at the gobblerfarberie, and that I should have told you to obtain from them earlier, before you got this far. As the coup de grâce, I realize I forgot to number any of this. Anyway, serve with giblerickeldip jam, which provides a contrasting antidote.
Not everyone will appreciate giblerickeldips, of course. In fact, most of your family will have left the area to maraud across suburbia. The important thing is, you’ll have locked your loved ones out of your soup kitchen or grad-student hostel, and—more vitally—estranged your foster god-uncles and all of the step-cats. Next year, when you ask the new host whether they need help with the roasted pumpkin sphincters (simply recycle old jack-o’-lantern bums) or uncooked pecan labias (step one: discard pecan clits), they’ll politely decline.
Now you’re free to simply enjoy their company and munch the poppycock rolls.