A Bird in the Can

The forecast is calling for increasing clouds with seasonal temps and little to no wind,” says WABI TV-5’s chief meteorologist, Todd Simcox, hefting a 12-pound bird seasoned with salt and pepper and coated with olive oil. “It’s a perfect day to cook this turkey.”

So what does the weather have to do with cooking a turkey, and why is this weather guy all hyped about it? It’s a Maine thing, Simcox says. “I never heard of trash can turkey until I moved here from Massachusetts eight years ago. At work we were trying to come up with new ideas for our Thanksgiving morning show.” When a couple of staff members mentioned trash can turkey, he says, “I looked at them as if they had two heads.”

Today, Simcox is a confirmed trash can turkey fan who is glad for the chance to transform a stretch of his Glenburn yard into a demonstration campsite/kitchen. First, he lays out two piles of charcoal on blankets of heavy-duty aluminum foil and gets them flaming. A metal spike-like contraption that holds the bird for cooking is placed on another foil-covered spot. Luckily, Simcox has friends who cook trash can turkey a lot, and loaned him their equipment. “They made this metal base specifically for cooking a turkey this way,” he says, “and the trashcan is already burned of any galvanizing.”

As the coals turn from black to gray, Simcox reminisces about his first attempt at cooking a trash can turkey. “A few years ago we tackled cooking a trash can turkey live on air Thanksgiving morning, and it was a failure,” he says. The problem? The weather. “It was cool and windy out, and we ended up burning through all the charcoal way too fast, so we had raw turkey. It looked browned but was still jiggling like Jello.” Cooking live on the air is always a gamble. One thing that is predictable is viewer response. “Viewers love it—especially the goofs.”

Simcox settles the bird on its custom-made stake and tips the trash can over the turkey, creating a Dutch oven of sorts. He then shovels layers of coals on top and encircles the can with coals, and turns up the aluminum foil to seal the bottom.

With this intense heat source above and below the turkey, and the hot air trapped in the can, it takes “about two to two and half hours” to cook. Simcox stresses the word “about.” “The cooking time is just a guess because it all depends on the weather conditions and how tight the seal is.” He admits that two and half hours of waiting can be torture, since you can’t sneak a look at the sizzling turkey. “Once you seal the can to the ground, you can’t peek.”

By the two hour mark, Simcox is anxious to see if his backyard creation will be a success or failure. He pounds his oven-mitted hands together like a boxer in the ring before he lifts the can and sees if the bird is ready. Ironically, a Maine wild turkey comes to the edge of the yard just in time to hear “Alleluia—it’s done!” Simcox spends the next few minutes slicing and serving the perfectly cooked turkey. The consummate entertainer can’t resist one last joke as he savors that first juicy bite: “Not bad for coming out of a trash can.”

Now that he’s conquered this recipe, Simcox’s forecast is calling for new recipes, one possibly being a tur-duck-en, which involves layers of turkey, duck, and chicken. Predictions are it will be tasty.