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December 28, 2023
Tiny Tim
By Mikie Baker
The Bandera Prophet
Here’s hoping your holidays were lovely and your meals were delicious. Ours was great – I managed to feed the masses with only seven loaves of bread and a few fish. It was something of a Christmas Miracle.
A couple of years ago, I decided to buy a toaster oven. I did massive research and finally settled on the top-of-the-line one, whom I named Tiny Tim. “What? you say. “There’s such a thing?” You bet there is. TT comes with two baking racks, a broiler pan, a pizza round, an air fryer basket, a built in timer and a large book of directions. It can toast, broil, bake, roast, air fry, proof, dehydrate, reheat, and has special settings for pizza and cookies. I’ve dated men less interesting than this toaster oven. And none of them had that many options to make me really cook, if you know what I mean.
And it’s a full-sized toaster oven so half a sheet pan, a casserole dish or a pie pan will fit in there nicely. The only thing that won’t fit is a nice, large turkey. That’s no problem except The Beast, my fancy new oven and stove, decided that it had baked its last biscuit, so it’s not working right now. Luckily, I have Tiny Tim to cook perfect meals for two.
Life was good until the holidays rolled around and the Crazy Cousin Sisters gave us a call.
CCS 1: We’re coming for Christmas! It’ll be a lovely family get together.
ME: Fantastic! Let’s have a nice ham for Christmas.
CCS 2: No, we grew up on a farm and we don’t “do” ham. Too many bad memories.
CCS 1: We want turkey and all the trimmings!
CCS 2: And we’re partial to dark meat.
I grabbed the closest bottle of scotch and sat down to ponder how I was going to pull off a full Christmas Dinner with Tiny Tim in a timely manner without ruffling anybody’s feathers.
Actually, I wasn’t too worried as I’d already managed that at Thanksgiving using a 6.5-pound turkey breast. But these ladies wanted dark meat, so I needed a really small turkey.
I started cruising the turkey isle right after Thanksgiving hoping a tiny turkey would fall into my lap. And it did. I found one lone 6.5-pound turkey buried under all those 16-pound frozen rocks. I grabbed it up knowing now I could pull off this dinner. I called Very Best Friend to gloat.
ME: Guess what I found at the store! A 6.5-pound turkey!
VBF: They make 6.5-pound turkeys?
ME: Yes. It’s even got legs and everything.
VBF: So, it looks like a big chicken?
That stopped me dead in my tracks. Was Butterball playing an evil trick on me? Was I just stuffing a large chicken and trying to pull it off as a turkey? After some more scotch, I decided that I just had no other choice.
On Christmas Day, I took Tiny Tim out of the fridge and treated him just like the Big Boy he was in my mind. My only hope was that he would actually fit in the oven. When the important moment arrived, he tucked right into Tiny Tim, and all was well.
Around two and a half hours later, I proudly presented my beautifully roasted turkey to the group. My Future Husband chimed up, “Hey, what is that thing? A large chicken?” Maybe he’s not My Future Husband anymore.
More importantly, it tasted just like turkey, and I won’t get fat because there weren’t any leftovers.
See you next year!
A couple of years ago, I decided to buy a toaster oven. I did massive research and finally settled on the top-of-the-line one, whom I named Tiny Tim. “What? you say. “There’s such a thing?” You bet there is. TT comes with two baking racks, a broiler pan, a pizza round, an air fryer basket, a built in timer and a large book of directions. It can toast, broil, bake, roast, air fry, proof, dehydrate, reheat, and has special settings for pizza and cookies. I’ve dated men less interesting than this toaster oven. And none of them had that many options to make me really cook, if you know what I mean.
And it’s a full-sized toaster oven so half a sheet pan, a casserole dish or a pie pan will fit in there nicely. The only thing that won’t fit is a nice, large turkey. That’s no problem except The Beast, my fancy new oven and stove, decided that it had baked its last biscuit, so it’s not working right now. Luckily, I have Tiny Tim to cook perfect meals for two.
Life was good until the holidays rolled around and the Crazy Cousin Sisters gave us a call.
CCS 1: We’re coming for Christmas! It’ll be a lovely family get together.
ME: Fantastic! Let’s have a nice ham for Christmas.
CCS 2: No, we grew up on a farm and we don’t “do” ham. Too many bad memories.
CCS 1: We want turkey and all the trimmings!
CCS 2: And we’re partial to dark meat.
I grabbed the closest bottle of scotch and sat down to ponder how I was going to pull off a full Christmas Dinner with Tiny Tim in a timely manner without ruffling anybody’s feathers.
Actually, I wasn’t too worried as I’d already managed that at Thanksgiving using a 6.5-pound turkey breast. But these ladies wanted dark meat, so I needed a really small turkey.
I started cruising the turkey isle right after Thanksgiving hoping a tiny turkey would fall into my lap. And it did. I found one lone 6.5-pound turkey buried under all those 16-pound frozen rocks. I grabbed it up knowing now I could pull off this dinner. I called Very Best Friend to gloat.
ME: Guess what I found at the store! A 6.5-pound turkey!
VBF: They make 6.5-pound turkeys?
ME: Yes. It’s even got legs and everything.
VBF: So, it looks like a big chicken?
That stopped me dead in my tracks. Was Butterball playing an evil trick on me? Was I just stuffing a large chicken and trying to pull it off as a turkey? After some more scotch, I decided that I just had no other choice.
On Christmas Day, I took Tiny Tim out of the fridge and treated him just like the Big Boy he was in my mind. My only hope was that he would actually fit in the oven. When the important moment arrived, he tucked right into Tiny Tim, and all was well.
Around two and a half hours later, I proudly presented my beautifully roasted turkey to the group. My Future Husband chimed up, “Hey, what is that thing? A large chicken?” Maybe he’s not My Future Husband anymore.
More importantly, it tasted just like turkey, and I won’t get fat because there weren’t any leftovers.
See you next year!