Delicious Turkey Stew

So many of you wanted my cake recipe that I felt the need to share a delicious turkey stew recipe from long ago. The first time was during the first few weeks of my marriage, and one of the first dishes prepared for my new husband with all the love and care of a new wife.

I had to take a class that night, and my new husband had to work into the evening. All afternoon I lovingly prepared a delicious turkey stew in my new crockpot, so it would be bubbling enticingly when he walked in the door on that cold, winter night. Being the new frugal wife that I was, in the steps of the pioneers, I knew all parts of leftover turkey should be used. So I gathered the remains of the turkey, the skin, and the fat, and the slime in the pan and dumped it in my crockpot with some rice and vegetables. I posted a note for him to eat my delicious turkey stew upon his arrival home.

After class, I trounced back home, my boots crunching in the incredible southern snowstorm. I entered the savory warm atmosphere of our honeymoon kitchen and called out to my new husband that I was back home.

He didn’t rise to greet me, which miffed me a bit, but my mom had told me sometimes new husbands had hard days at work and were grumpy coming home. The poor dear. He had a hard day. It was good I had that stew waiting. He hollered out from the den that he had eaten my stew and it was sure delicious until it came roaring back out. My heart warmed. My grandmother used to make some wonderful broccoli soaked in oil. The most delicious thing on the planet, but you had to be home for several hours after eating it because it was the world’s greatest intestinal cleanse in days before Sunshine Vitamins had even heard of detox plans. Had I, after only a few weeks of marriage, already attained my grandmother’s heights in deliciousness with fiber?

He jumped out of the chair, squared himself in the doorway, and said I had made him the stew that was great for bulemics. This made me grin unabashedly. My stew was tasty enough for bulemics. All those poor girls with bruised knuckles and broken teeth would see an end to their plight once offered my delicious stew. This was really too important to keep to ourselves. Maybe I should call the paper with my recipe. Maybe I should call Oprah! She always championed good causes. It would be rather nice to be on Oprah. I would tell all my friends to watch. Maybe she would let me jump on her couch.

Seeing my wide grin, my new husband’s face turned red. He told me didn’t I remember what the priest said about standing together in good times and bad. Just because of a tiff that morning, had I forgotten our vows? I clasped my hands and told him that’s why I made the stew. I had not forgotten the church and the bit about "till death do us part." He rushed over as if to grab me. Probably to give me a huge hug. But just before reaching me his face contorted and he doubled over. Turning away, he rushed into the bathroom and was there for quite some time. Undoubtedly overcome with emotion for my steadfastness as a new wife and the kindness and love I had put into my stew.

Knowing a wife must give her mate the privacy to settle his own emotions alone when needed, I went about the house straightening up and preparing for bed. I slipped under the covers, drowsily watching the snowflakes drift by the window.

A long while later he exited the bathroom and took down his shotgun in the den. He settled for the night in the chair near the Christmas tree with his gun across his lap. What a wonderful new husband I had. Even with modern times, he felt the need for the age old tradition of guarding his family on long winter’s nights. Keeping bears away from the door and bad cowboys away from his woman. I snuggled in the covers and watched the lights twinkle on the tree. My new life stretched out before me as a wonderful road to be traveled. We would be happy. Maybe have three children. Life was full. Christmas was upon us. And peace was on earth.