Would you believe it’s not too early to order a heritage turkey for Thanksgiving? Heritage Foods USA is offering a $10 discount on orders of fresh heritage turkeys delivered to your door two days before the national holiday of compulsive overeating.
What is a heritage turkey and how does it differ from an ordinary turkey? Heritage turkeys are descendants of any of several old breeds registered with the American Poultry Association. According to William Rubel, these breeds are crosses between domesticated European turkey breeds and North American wild turkeys. Heritage turkeys are often pastured, meaning they have access to open spaces outdoors where they can run around and happily munch on grass and bugs before they’re slaughtered for the benefit of our holiday table. Their meat is purported to be much more flavorful and juicy than that of their commercially-bred cousins.
In contrast, your typical Broad Breasted Bronze or Large White is bred for enormous size and large breast. A commercially raised bird might spend its entire life cooped up in a crowded building before it is slaughtered and processed. The result is turkeys that can’t walk or naturally mate, and dry, flavorless meat.
Last year I roasted an organic, free-range turkey, courtesy of Mary’s Free Range Turkey. It was pretty good, certainly juicier than the usual supermarket variety. This year I’ve pre-ordered a heritage bird, which I’m curious to try. A heritage turkey seems like one of those foods that, once you’ve tasted it, might redefine, for you, the very meaning of turkey.
Aside from their superior taste, heritage turkeys revive breeds that would have otherwise faced extinction. As they say at Slow Food, you’ve got to eat ’em to save ’em, a cringe-worthy paradox for any vegetarian, but sadly, true, nonetheless.
This contradiction is a little hard for me to swallow, pardon the pun. I like the idea of raising animals humanely on small farms, and feeding them according to their natural diet (think of cows munching on grass instead of feeding on soybeans, for example).
Put simply, wouldn’t you be happier roaming around outdoors than being penned in a space so small you can barely turn around, surrounded by hundreds of noisy neighbors? (What’s that? You work in a cubicle too?) I certainly would. As such, I try to support humanely raised animal products as much as I can.
But I can’t shake the odd irony that these animals who are raised in a pleasant environment, fed healthy foods, and given space to roam and play, are summarily killed so that I may eat them. I’ve gone the vegetarian route (seven years), and frankly, my palate is much too selfish to go back. Waiter? I’ll have the cognitive dissonance, please. Pass the heritage turkey!
