Going on a Wild Turkey Chase in Medellín, Colombia

December 13th, 2010

WARNING! This story contains brief descriptions of a live turkey being killed in order for us to have it for Thanksgiving. If you find that subject distasteful or perhaps unsettling, you may not want to read on.

Hola! How is everyone enjoying the holiday season? I hope you’re getting to enjoy some time relaxing with family, time away from work, hopefully stress-free travel, and especially some delicious foods. I know it’s about a week too late, but I still wanted to relate to you a great experience that happened back before Thanksgiving. Let me explain…

Back in early November, we were looking ahead to achieving two major life accomplishments in the same meal: both hosting our first Thanksgiving as a married couple in another country and being the ones to put those delicious, comfort foods on the table. We couldn’t do it alone, but we got help in a most unconventional way. Instead of a full house of familial workers sharing traditional recipes and warm stories, our help came in the form of US care packages, hand-delivered from friends traveling to Colombia. They sacrificed sacred suitcase space in order for us to have so many of the Thanksgiving staples we otherwise would be going without. And for that we are extremely thankful.

They brought the classic Thanksgiving staples like green bean casserole, candied yams, cranberry sauce, and stuffing fixings, among others. The only thing they couldn’t fit in their luggage was a turkey, which I could obviously get in Medellín, right? Well, Medellín proved extremely fickle about producing on her end of the bargain.

Getting our Thanksgiving turkey was one of the biggest challenges I’d faced since moving to Medellín 11 months ago. I started out where anyone in my position would: the meat section at the super market. Unfortunately, after a translation error and a quick trip to the sliced meats section, I returned and clarified that I was looking for a whole turkey, one to feed a crowd. He chuckled and told to come back in December (turkeys are big for Christmas here). But then he suggested that if I was up for it, I could just go to the forest and kill one. We shared a laugh.

A few days later, I was downtown and I had the opportunity to investigate with one of the city’s high-end butcher shops. Surely they would have the missing piece to our Thanksgiving puzzle. Sadly, they didn’t. And don’t call me Shirley.

After that additional disappointment, I called the few remaining specialty grocery stores and various out-of-work magicians I thought might have or know how to procure our missing turkey. Sadly, still had no luck finding our bird.

At this point, I was about ready to give up and make the disappointing but still delicious switch to a pork roast. But a fortuitous trip to the local fruit market changed everything and our luck turned around. We were hosting a guest at our bed-and-breakfast in Medellín and during the Fruit Tasting Tour, while getting turned down by the dozens of butchers in the meat section of the market, one of them tipped us off as to where we might find a turkey.

Half excited but still a little skeptical based on my string of failures up to this point, I heeded their advice and went to the live animal section of the expansive market. Within seconds of arrival, a nice young man named Ronal came up and asked me what I was looking for. (I’m telling you, great service in this country!) I told him “pavo” which is the Spanish word for ‘turkey’. Well apparently “pavo” also means something else because he led me over to a confused looking peacock. I had to convince him I hadn’t come to the Minorista to find a peacock and after that, much to my surprise and sincere delight, he showed me what I had searched the entire city to find: our Thanksgiving Turkey. Increible!

From there, it was a simple matter of negotiating the price and Ronal told me I could come back whenever to pick it up. A week later, on the actual day of Thanksgiving when most of those now reading this would probably have been enjoying their own Thanksgiving turkey, we went down to the Minorista market on what was for us a normal Colombian Thursday and picked out our turkey much like one would pick out a lobster. Ronal let me hold several different turkeys by their legs to see which one was heavier and I picked the winner (or loser if you’re the turkey). While Marcela opted to look at puppies, hamsters, and ducklings, I went with Ronal up some stairs to a back room and watched the turkey get “prepared”. Without getting into too many details, I’ll just say it was certainly brutal to watch but it was completely humane, and Timmy the Turkey went with dignity. The fact is that most humans eat some sort of meat and in order to have that privilege, at some point a live animal needs to become a dead animal. After the butcher finished with the turkey, he wrapped it in several large, plastic bags, passed it over, and I went to share the long-awaited spoil with Marcela.

We returned home in a cab with Timmy sitting between us, still warm to the touch. Timmy’s death was not in vain, nor was the exhaustive search throughout Medellín. Timmy was delicious and juicy with a crisp exterior and made the perfect centerpiece at our authentic American Thanksgiving in Colombia.

Happy Holidays y feliz año Nuevo!

*A special Thank You! to Alexis, Jon, and Rin for taking the risk to traffic food into Colombia on our stomach’s behalf!