James, you have my sympathies. I totally agree with you–ground turkey is foul. Urgh. I’m not sure where that aftertaste comes from, either. Some brands are worse than others, too.
Last Wednesday, as you may recall, was Adminstrative Professionals Day. Our AP’s birthday happened to be on Friday, as well, and someone retired on Thursday, so we had three days worth of shindig. The eating was good.
On Thursday, there was an aluminum roasting pan full of something that looked like turkey wings–roasted, I thought, and cut up with some kind of gravy poured over them, and a huge vat of white rice. Eww. Pieces of bones everywhere. An unusual-looking morass. I broke off what I thought might be meat with the serving utensil, carefully scraping off the gravy and skin, pushing aside the bones, and avoiding the rice. Eh. Piece of turkey.
On Friday, I cruised by the breakroom to see what might be new. Several cakes, a lot of pastry, and other assorted sweets. In the fridge, there was that turkey stuff still. Clearly, nobody had wanted it. There was a large mass of congealed meat sitting on rice. Solid. And there wasn’t much else left. I’d gotten there too late. Nothing to do but try to excavate some meat off that turkey.
No utensils, either, so I carefully pried off a bit with my fingers, and was instantly discovered doing so. 
Someone gave me a fork and then everyone stood there waiting . . . waiting . . . waiting for me to get done and go back to my office . . . with these little pouty expressions. I sensed a little hostility, but wasn’t really sure where it came from.
Took my three little bits of turkey and some rice back to my office and nuked them, expecting to find an ounce or two of edible meat in it after the congealed goo melted. Carefully, I began scraping everything off the meat. I was in a bit of a rush, though, and somehow managed to get some of that gravy in my mouth.
What a rush! I tell you, I have never eaten such heavenly stuff in my life. It wasn’t just finger-lickin’ good . . . it was bone-sucking good. I had really screwed up the day before when I scraped off the skin and the gravy. Seriously screwed up. (Probably also screwed up by passing on the collard greens that went with it!)
Everything just melted in my mouth. Literally. You hear that, but you don’t really know what it means. Now, after that turkey, I know! I can’t even describe the flavor. It was vaguely roast turkey, but mushroomy and smooth and perfectly seasoned. I can’t describe the taste. Even the rice was to die for. You know those parts of turkey wings that nobody ever eats? You think you can’t? They just melted away.
When I finished, there was a little pile of chewed-clean bone bits on a licked-clean plate. Seriously. Like something you’d see at an archaeological dig.
I was still ravenous, so I made a beeline back to the break room in the next building to have another go at that turkey.
It was all gone. Every bit. That had apparently been what everyone was waiting for and why they all had the pouty expressions–I had been hitting on their lunch.
The lady who made it has been out for a few days, but I’m demanding to know what it is and how to make it first thing tomorrow. Pray that she gives it to me!
