A tale of two turkeys: his and hers

I'm an indoor kind of gal, married to an outdoor kind of guy. We both love to cook. And we hate sharing a kitchen. So when it comes to talking turkey — something we do this time each year — he's all for grilling his in the great outdoors, while I prefer hanging with my hen in the cozy confines of our kitchen.

For several years now, we've made his-and-hers turkeys our Thanksgiving tradition, much to the delight of the crowd that comes for dinner. We like it because in addition to giving us each our own workspace, cooking two birds — one oven-roasted, the other lightly smoked on a charcoal-fueled Weber — offers two decidedly different tastes (and one heck of a carcass-fest for making soup later).

Our guests like our dual-turkey day because there are twice as many thighs, wings and drumsticks to go around, and plenty of leftovers to send home. Add to that double-duty on the necks and giblets (making for plenty of homemade gravy), lots of turkey liver (for the dog) and a pair of "lucky" wishbones (for the kids), and ours is one happy holiday household.

But there are other, more practical reasons to turn turkey day into a backyard bonanza.

For one, "It couldn't be easier!," says my husband. Having watched him in action, that's no lie.

For another, if you're making only one bird and need to use the oven for baking pumpkin pie, potato casseroles, cornbread stuffing or what-have-you, taking the main attraction outside means you don't have to "borrow" your neighbor's oven. In addition, you're far less likely to end up serving cooked but cold turkey. What's more, if a big windstorm comes up and the electricity goes out, the coals continue to glow on the grill, right?

Full disclosure: We're old hands at tackling turkeys. I've been roasting the Thanksgiving beast since I was old enough to open the oven door and hoist a baster. And by the time my fine fellow came up with the idea of the two-turkey tango, throwing the big bird on the barby was no big deal, since he'd already perfected the practice using chickens and ducks. But we both swear that making a good turkey is as easy as (in fact, easier than) apple pie.

Through the years, we've tampered with our turkeys. Though we've yet to try deep-frying (too dangerous, says my spouse, whose motto is "Safety first!"), we've gone the trendy poultry route, answering the call of the wild with a scrawny $67 "heritage" bird (never again!) and doing the homemade-brine routine (a salty bust).

To be honest, I've always done well with your basic chubby-breasted Butterball, and in recent years have had great good luck with fresh local brands such as Northwest Natural. As for the "Which turkey is best?" question, I'll leave that up to you and promise that, other than dealing with the vagaries of thawing and roasting times (see our related article on turkey basics for more on that subject), fixing a turkey feast indoors or out isn't rocket science.

We start with two fresh 12- to 14-pound turkeys, removed from the fridge an hour before prepping so we are not putting a too-cold turkey in the oven or on the barby. Then we prepare them according to the recipes attached. Mine goes in first because it takes a good hour longer than his, but they both come out bronzed and beautiful.

And for that, we bow our heads and give thanks.

Nancy Leson: 206-464-8838 or nleson@seattletimes.com