Thanksgiving Hamkey

Jennifer We had planned to have our Thanksgiving dinner sometime last weekend, but what with all the excitement of the julmarknad on Saturday, and then the trip to Gävle Sunday, we just didn't have time. So we planned to have Thanksgiving on Monday. Joe had made mashed potatoes, baked root vegetables, green bean casserole, and the turkey leg that he mentioned before. I tried to make gravy from the few pan drippings, but it was bitter and didn't work at all, which we both blamed on the fact that the veggies also dripped on the pan.



So Joe carves up the kalkonklubba and we set to. "Wow," I said a bite or two in, "This turkey is pretty good. Tastes like ham." A few moments go by. "It really tastes exactly like ham." Joe has a bite. "Yeah, it really does." A few more seconds pass. "It cuts like ham, too." A few more beats go by. "This is ham." I said. "It can't be!" said Joe defensively. "What sick jävla made turkey out of a ham?"

The packaging clearly identifies the product as kalkon, which means "turkey" på svenska. There are pictures of turkeys on the wrapping. Read more about the product itself, basturökt klubba; note that the first ingredient is kalkon. Ingelsta Kalkon AB, the company that makes the product, advertises themselves as turkey specialists. See the turkey on their logo?

Looks like ham. Tastes like ham. Feels like ham. And yet... it's turkey.

Sensory experience tells me it's ham. Authoritarian evidence tells me it's turkey. Or maybe Swedes have discovered the sorcerer's stone of the deli business: when you put a turkey in a sauna, it turns into a pig. WWLD?