The hell holiday season is here, but at last –perhaps because it’s no longer a novelty — I seem to have been spared the thrice-weekly inquiries about whether I plan to consume Tofurky. (Zeus will remember the virgin foray into Tofurky territory, an occasion he marked with a riotous e-mailed culinary review: “Tofurky gravy: it sucks, it’s hideous.” I seem to remember the phrase “snot-in-a-bag.” But I digress.) Those who know me have figured out that vegetarians do not really feel compelled, on traditional occasions, to prepare some vegapproximation of a traditional meal.

It seems, however, that someone has upped the ante. You may have run across the exercise in wretched excess called a Turducken? Aside from the fact that it sounds like a small village somewhere in Westphalia, the kind of place where you have a puncture and can’t find a garage, who with a particle of self respect would eat something that started with those four letters? Never mind. Someone has apparently concocted a vegetarian analog and, according to a client I saw last night, it’s called something like Tofucken.

“My girlfriend heard about it and she went Googling trying to find more,” she explained. “And I’m not really sure what she found out, all she could say was ‘do you know what kind of sites you find when you type Tofucken into Google?’ ”

I don’t dare imagine. Well, now, this one, along with whatever else.


12 thoughts on “Tofurky

  1. Very funny and well written as usual.

    Only, when I googled Tofucken out of curiosity and actually found sites about vegetarian stuff, I also found this Facebook group page based on this apparently simple concept:

    I f**ken love to f**ken say f**k as many f**ken times as I f**ken can

    • With all due respect to Nursemyra, it sounds like the Australian Rigmarole recounted by Robert Graves in “Lars Porsena, or the Future of Swearing” (yes, I’m sort of on a Graves bender lately). It goes something like

      “I was walking along on this f-in fine day, f-in sun f-in shining away, and I meets up with this f-in girl. F-in lovely she was, so we talked awhile and I could tell she f-in fancied me, so we goes over a f-in fence into an f-in field and we has sexual intercourse.”

  2. Happy (and surprised) a person like Graves likes foul language, which I have always liked (or I would have felt a total stranger in my town). By him I’ve read only ‘I, Claudius’ & ‘Claudius the God’, two great books I read in Italian many years ago.

    So now people googling any sort of vegetarian stuff will find us f-in joking on f-in foul language and sex as usual.

  3. There were two kinds of fake turkey we tried. One was ok. You made it one year, and I the next. The other fake turkey, I made it, the whole thing came in a box like a kit of some sort, looked like a small, rubber ball with gooey “stuffing” inside.

    The pseudo-gravy was a yellowish thing that one boiled in a bag, opened and drizzled or ladled onto one’s serving. It looked like mucus. I recall that none of the four of us even tried the contents of the bag. It sat where we left it, suffered disparaging remarks all through dinner, and was finally chucked.

    • The “Great Unturkey” was the one that came out pretty OK if you feel the need of something you can slice. But that Tofurky thing looked like a shot put and tasted about like one, not that I ever tried to eat a shot put.

      • Actually, I would eat that one again if I was served that meal. It wasn’t fantastic, but it really wasn’t bad in the hands of a good cook, served with good side dishes.

    • Oh, I forgot the fake drumsticks. They were not bad, but they looked silly and could be easily overcooked in the time it took to bake the shot put as you so accurately call that thing.

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