Turkey trials: Perfecting a traditional holiday meal

By Tammy Malgesini

Staff Writer

Published on November 20, 2017 7:10PM

If you’re stressing out about preparing a Thanksgiving turkey, I may be able to offer some tips.

I recently read that most people only roast whole turkeys once or twice a year. That doesn’t provide much of an opportunity for practice makes perfect.

I’m no expert. In fact, I can count how many whole turkeys I’ve made in my life on one hand. Actually, I can do it with a peace sign.

That’s right, I’ve thawed, stuffed and roasted a total of two turkeys in nearly 58 years. To maintain the tradition, I’m due to make another one in 2047.

Although I’ve only prepared two big birds, I have perfected the process of making a traditional Thanksgiving meal, complete with turkey and stuffing that tastes like it came right out of the bird.

But really, to stuff or not to stuff is a personal choice. Some people fear food poisoning due to bacteria from the bird’s cavity absorbing into the stuffing. The turkey isn’t some sort of decoration to be admired. Put the bird in the oven right after stuffing it. Problem solved.

Rather than a whole bird, I now purchase turkey breasts. This remedies the issue of wasted dark meat since John and I prefer white meat.

I used to prepare the stuffing in a casserole dish. While it was good, it lacked the unique moistness of stuffing that has baked inside a turkey.

To replicate the in-the-bird taste, I decided to layer the turkey with stuffing in between. I may not win any culinary prizes for attractive appearances, but the end result is mighty tasty. And, there are plenty of leftovers for turkey sandwiches, much to the delight of my husband.

However, layered turkey breasts eliminates the whole bird presentation and an opportunity to show off your carving prowess. I don’t view my food as dining room décor, so it’s all good. And, I have issues with knives.

I suppose if I wanted my food to be pretty, I could modify the technique to create a stuffed turkey roll. To do that, you butterfly the turkey breast, pound it out to an even thickness, top it with a layer of stuffing, roll it into a long cylinder, tie it with kitchen twine and then roast it. That just seems like too much effort.

Creating the layered turkey breasts has solved several problems:

•I don’t have to worry about trussing the turkey. For those unfamiliar with the term, it’s like a cowboy roping a steer.

•The complicated process of carving a turkey. Jeffrey Elliot, who co-authored “Complete Book of Knife Skills,” offers 19 step-by-step instructions on the best way to carve a turkey. Seriously, 19!?!

•I no longer have to perform mathematical equations to figure out how long to allow for defrosting the bird. Not only is that headache avoided, the turkey doesn’t take up space in the refrigerator for days.

I love turkey. And, in the Malgesini household, turkey isn’t just for Thanksgiving anymore. However, John will be preparing homemade Italian pizza on Thursday. Happy Thanksgiving!

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Tammy Malgesini is the community editor. Her column, Inside my Shoes, includes general musings about life. Contact her at tmalgesini@eastoregonian.com or 541-564-4539.

Speaking out ... it’s #NotOkay

By Tammy Malgesini

Staff Writer

Published on October 31, 2017 5:53PM

I started writing this column last fall after the #NotOkay posts went viral on social media.

However, I never finished it. After seeing the recent #MeToo posts, I decided to pick up my pen again.

Both simple statements, they highlight issues surrounding sexual assault and sexual harassment. Mostly women have shared about their personal experiences as a way to show how prevalent the issues are and to empower themselves.

I’ve read recent reports that indicate one in three women have experienced sexual harassment at work. And, CBS news recently reported that an American is sexually assaulted every 98 seconds.

I don’t think much about my personal experiences regarding sexual harassment. Even as a young girl I had a strong sense of self and felt comfortable in speaking up. I knew what was happening was wrong and immediately took action. Fortunately, the people I talked to listened — and responded appropriately.

When I was in college I did a paid summer internship in personnel management at J.C. Penney in Coos Bay. I worked in multiple departments, including the automotive/sporting center annex.

I was working at the sporting center when one of the automotive center employees, who was about my same age, came over and was talking to me. As he walked away, he grabbed my butt.

Shortly afterward, I headed up to the main store to talk to Bill, the store manager. As I shared about the encounter, I told him I wasn’t even dressed provocatively.

That’s the thing with inappropriate encounters, sometimes people want to blame the victim for what happened. However, Bill immediately said it didn’t matter what I was wearing, it wasn’t appropriate for the employee.

And that wasn’t the first time I recall being faced with an inappropriate encounter.

That happened when I was in junior high. We were living in Phoenix, Oregon, and I was up the street visiting a friend.

My friend’s step-dad had just had knee surgery and was sitting on the couch with his leg stretched on a footstool. My friend had gone into the kitchen to help her mom with dinner when her step-dad exposed himself to me. My response was to give him a swift kick in the knee.

I recently had arthroscopic knee surgery and can’t even imagine the excruciating pain that would cause. It’s bad enough when one of our German shepherds accidentally bumps my foot or leg.

I understand sometimes people don’t always feel comfortable in talking about inappropriate situations. While it wasn’t related to sexual harassment, shortly after graduating from college I worked for an employer who had some questionable policies. I questioned a particular practice. However, it didn’t change.

I needed the job at the time, so I continued working there but didn’t follow the policy. While that wasn’t the best way to deal with the situation, I did report it later.

As unfortunate as it is, sometimes we overlook things or remain silent due to the potential consequences. It is my hope that as more people speak out it will effect change — whether in Hollywood, our statehouses or hometowns.

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Tammy Malgesini is the community editor. Her column, Inside my Shoes, includes general musings about life. Contact her at tmalgesini@eastoregonian.com or 541-564-4539.

Like a good neighbor State Farm is there ... but not at my number

By Tammy Malgesini

Staff Writer

Published on September 26, 2017 8:47PM

I get so tired of the continuous calls from telemarketers and the incredibly annoying, “This is your last chance regarding renewal of your car warranty.”

If only.

Seriously, do they really think after they’ve pestered me for the umpteenth time that I’m finally going to give in? I did get a short reprieve when I lied, saying I no longer owned said vehicle.

With all the robocalls and telephone scams I have a tendency to ignore calls from numbers I don’t recognize. I used to readily answer calls from local numbers. However, it seems scammers are spoofing people by disguising their number — often making it look like it’s a local phone number.

When John and I got rid of our landline, we still wanted a “home phone.” We got an additional cell phone with an unlisted number, which we’ve given out to very few people. So, imagine my surprise when it began ringing off the hook one morning last week.

After the third call, I finally answered. The gentleman asked if this was State Farm. I said no and hung up. The next call went the same way.

Then the fifth call was from a dude that identified himself as a State Farm agent in Hermiston. He indicated Eastern Oregon Telecom got some wires crossed and their office calls were being routed to my cell phone. Although their slogan says, “Like a good neighbor, State Farm is there” — it’s not at this number.

He asked what my phone number was. Due to all the scammers, I didn’t feel comfortable telling him. He said he understood, but again said who he was and described where his office was located, including businesses that are nearby.

Then another call came in — a female this time. She asked if I was State Farm. I told her no and let her know they were having problems with their phone lines. Then, the guy, who was in the background, spoke up. It seems they were still trying to test their phone.

By this time, Eastern Oregon Telecom had identified what number it appeared they were forwarding calls to and the State Farm agent wanted to confirm if that was my number. I hesitated. I’ve heard all kinds of scammer tricks, including how they will record you saying, “Yes,” and then use it to make money transfers or open accounts.

Trying to ascertain if he truly was in Hermiston — I would have driven down to the State Farm office but I was in Lincoln City — I decided to play Hermiston trivia. You know, ask questions that a local would readily know. I said, “Who is the mayor of Hermiston?” Ding, ding, ding, he got it right by saying Dave Drotzmann. Then I asked which former mayor died recently. He said he wasn’t so sure and then replied, “Bob of Bob’s Red Apple,” referring to Bob Severson. Although the correct answer is “Who is Frank Harkenrider?,” a scammer certainly couldn’t have known the connection with Mayor Bob.

I called Eastern Oregon Telecom and they finally got things figured out. Oh, and I do have a couple of phone messages for Jesse at State Farm.

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Tammy Malgesini is the community editor. Her column, Inside my Shoes, includes general musings about life. Contact her at tmalgesini@eastoregonian.com or 541-564-4539.

Lab work leads to awkward interaction

By Tammy Malgesini

Staff Writer

Published on September 12, 2017 7:03PM

It seems there are certain occupations where people think you’re always on duty.

I’m sure doctors get it all the time — running into patients at church or an athletic event. Some people think nothing of showing off a rash and wanting free medical advice.

As a journalist, I often have people approach me about doing stories — at community events (that I’m not covering), at the grocery store, at a restaurant eating dinner and even standing at Interpath Laboratory holding a container of my own urine.

Going to the lab to provide urine and blood samples already messes with my routine — especially the tests that require fasting.

It’s a delicate balancing act to go the required number of hours without consuming food, while drinking enough water to provide a urine specimen and still be a civil human being in public in a caffeine-deprived state because I haven’t had my morning Pepsi.

Because of my early week double deadlines, it’s most convenient for me to do lab work on a Thursday or Friday. On Sept. 1, the stars were finally aligning — although a late night snack nearly derailed the whole process.

I woke up in desperate need of Pepsi, but it had been nearly two weeks since the doctor called in the order for lab work. I knew I had to take care of it.

So, I finally make it to Interpath and the phlebotomist draws my blood sample. Since the urinalysis didn’t require fasting, she said I could take the bag and specimen bottle with me to do the UA at home if I wasn’t able to produce on demand. If I had planned to go home, that may have been a viable option.

However, I was headed to work and certainly had no interest in dealing with this in the work bathroom. The last thing I wanted to do was carry around a bottle of my own pee.

I produced the required specimen and exited the laboratory’s bathroom. Standing there holding a clear plastic bag which contained a clear plastic container with my urine, a woman who was getting her blood drawn by a different lab worker was staring at me. I smiled, because despite the caffeine deprivation, I’m generally a decent human being.

She said hello and introduced herself. I was dumbfounded — remember, I’m standing there with a plastic bag with a container of my own pee.

“OK,” I replied.

All I wanted was for my lab lady to re-appear so I could unload my specimen and be on my way. However, that didn’t occur and the woman then proceeded to tell me she was with some community group in town and she wanted to talk to me about her club.

I just stood there — flabbergasted that someone wanted me to engage in a discussion while I was standing there holding my own pee. Apparently, she noticed my reaction and asked, “Are you OK?”

I didn’t respond. It was surreal. I’m not sure how long the encounter lasted but the other lab worker interrupted the awkward interaction and directed me to my lab lady.

And, by the way, I wasn’t OK. I hadn’t eaten for nearly 12 hours, I was in desperate need of Pepsi and did I mention, I was holding a container of my own pee.

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Tammy Malgesini is the community editor. Her column, Inside my Shoes, includes general musings about life. Contact her at tmalgesini@eastoregonian.com or 541-564-4539.

Canine kids are doggone special

By Tammy Malgesini

Staff Writer

Published on August 29, 2017 7:55PM

We sang a rousing round of “Happy Birthday” Monday morning in celebration of Lucifer’s eighth birthday.

While we didn’t throw a big party and invite all the neighborhood dogs, we did give Lucifer and the General some canned dog food. They get the good stuff on special occasions. The following morning, I swear the General looked at me like, “What gives!?” when I placed a bowl of regular food at his feet.

While both of our dogs are part of the Malgesini pack, Lucifer, a black German shepherd, is John’s dog and the General, a 5-year-old tan/black German shepherd, is mine.

After having Jeter, my 13-year-old German shepherd, put down in April 2012, I was initially hesitant to get another dog. I didn’t think I wanted to go through the difficulty of losing another canine kid. Lucifer helped me through the grief process and I’m grateful the General joined our pack. I can’t imagine life without my sweet boy.

The General is definitely the most intelligent dog I’ve ever had.

However, he has issues.

I used to think it was pretty amazing that he never had an accident in the house. Seriously, house training was a breeze. But later, it became apparent he had some quirks when it came to going to the bathroom, which I shared about in a past column.

The goofy guy also has tactile issues. I think he exhibits symptoms of obsessive-compulsive disorder or maybe even autism. My friends laugh when I say that, but think about it, dogs get other “human” diseases.

The General will only drink out of certain dishes. When he was about 9 months old, a paper towel fell into his water bowl by the daybed. He jumped down and stared at it.

“Take care of that,” he seemed to be saying. So, I squeezed the water out of the paper towel and threw it away.

He had a look on his face like, “That’s it, that’s all you’re going to do.” Honesty, I don’t know what more I could do. But he never drank out of that bowl again. He would jump over it, run downstairs and get a drink and then come back upstairs. After several more weeks, I finally removed the bowl.

And, playing hide-and-seek is hilarious. When I peer out and see him running frantically looking for me, I want to yell out, “Dude, use your sense of smell!”

What’s even more entertaining is when Lucifer hides with John. Seriously, this 95-pound dog will stand perfectly still in the shadows. I swear sometimes Lucifer even flashes an eye-roll while watching his brother searching for them.

John and I readily admit our canine kids have us wrapped around their dew claws. It’s all good — the boys always happily greet us when we come home, they rarely talk back and as long as they have food, water and the occasional belly rub, they’re happy.

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Tammy Malgesini is the community editor. Her column, Inside my Shoes, includes general musings about life. Contact her at tmalgesini@eastoregonian.com or 541-564-4539.

Selfies and beers and friends, oh my!

By Tammy Malgesini

Staff Writer

Published on August 16, 2017 6:49AM

While selfies may have increased in popularity over the last decade, millennials certainly weren’t the first generation to snap photos of themselves.

When Oxford Dictionaries announced “selfie” was selected as the Word of the Year in 2013, efforts were made to track down the word’s origin. According to Slate.com, Oxford identified a 2002 science forum post on the Australian Broadcasting Corporation’s website as the earliest known example of the word’s use.

Evidently, a young Aussie man took a photo of his stitched up lip, an injury he suffered while drunk at a “mate’s 21st” birthday celebration. “Hopey,” aka Nathan Hope, apologized for the photo’s lack of clarity, “And sorry about the focus, it was a selfie.”

Hope denied coining the use of the word, saying it was merely common slang to describe a picture you had taken of yourself. The thing is, self portraits — whether by taking a picture while looking in a mirror or with one’s outstretched arm — have been around for ages. As far back as the early 1900s, the Kodak Brownie Box camera provided opportunities for people to take self-portraitures.

I must say, however, the use of cell phones or digital cameras are much preferable in the art of the selfie.

Back when telephones were attached to walls and a thing called film was widely used, photographers didn’t have the luxury of instantly seeing what they had taken a picture of — thus affording them an opportunity to delete anything they didn’t like. Sometimes a roll of film remained in a camera or sat in a drawer for months before being developed.

Lacking the ability to view photos immediately could prove to be quite embarrassing to people who liked to take photos while also imbibing in too many adult beverages. I know this from experience.

A particular selfie taken in the early- to mid-1990s featured part of my face and more. Let’s just say, it could have qualified for the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue … uncovered. The unfortunate thing is, it was taken with a film camera — someone else’s film camera.

By the time Kaci Parker had her film developed I had long-forgotten even taking the photo. If the truth be known, I likely forgot mere moments after snapping the picture.

Although my entire face wasn’t caught on film, her neighbor Suzy Tosten immediately knew it was me. When she told me about it, I was mortified. Being the friend that she was, Suzy said she would get the photo and the negative.

When I got to work the next morning, I went to Suzy’s office to see if she had retrieved the items from Kaci. However, before I could even get the words out of my mouth, I looked down and on her desk in a picture frame was the photo.

While they say a picture’s worth a thousand words, I only needed one … a four-letter one.

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Tammy Malgesini is the community editor. Her column, Inside my Shoes, includes general musings about life. Contact her at tmalgesini@eastoregonian.com or 541-564-4539.

Fairgrounds move results in chance to reflect

By Tammy Malgesini

Staff Writer

Published on August 1, 2017 10:19AM

I’m looking forward to the Umatilla County Fair taking place in its new digs at the Eastern Oregon Trade and Event Center

I’m especially excited about air-conditioning where the open class entries will be displayed. I’ve done my share of sweating in Price Hall while judging photography since 2006.

To get a short reprieve from the sweltering heat, I used to head over to the senior center — where they housed the horticulture exhibits — to use the restroom and cool down.

With this year’s theme of “New Faces, New Places & Old Friends,” I was reflecting about fair memories. Before I started working at the East Oregonian and Hermiston Herald, I used to enter my work in the photography division.

Each summer, Carol McIntosh and I would talk about what we were going to enter, where we found deals on mats and start doing the countdown to taking our entries in. We were like giddy schoolgirls, fussing over our photos.

Anticipating how my photos were viewed by the judges, I’d get excited after dropping off entries on Sunday. It seemed like it took forever for Tuesday morning to roll around, marking the opening day of the fair.

Then, I found out Carol used to sneak into Price Hall the night before the fair officially opened to check on her photos. One year, she talked me into going in. I got caught and was sent away.

When I went home, I called her and we had a good chuckle. Carol somehow cajoled me into changing clothes, putting on a hat and going back. And, you know what happened?!? Yep, I got stopped at the door again.

Other memories over the years include a couple of big storms during fair week, including in 2012 when Carol Greene and I were at the Farm-City Pro Rodeo. The hourly weather forecast predicted a 10 percent chance of rain and a drop in temperature, so I grabbed a jacket as we headed out the door. It was a beautiful night.

Was!

Suddenly, the sky darkened, there was booming thunder, jagged lightning and the wind began to wreak havoc on my hair. An announcement on the loud speakers directed people to take refuge in Rankin Pavilion.

Carol and I darted in and out of the crowd like Marshawn Lynch during his heyday with the Seahawks. As the torrential downpour persisted, we realized we were gonna have to hunker down in the sheep barn.

When the rain let up a bit, we made our way to the senior center — hey, I was in survival mode and I knew they had the best facilities. We took selfies and I sent a text to my husband. His response, “It looks like there’s a 100 percent chance of rain now.”

Another memorable experience was attending the Uncle Kracker concert in 2010. I had just survived the worst case of cabin fever after breaking my shoulder.

The concert was my first real entertainment after sitting at home for nearly two months. With four VIP tickets — which somehow multiplied like Jesus feeding the multitudes with five loaves of bread and two fish — a bunch of my friends and I had a crazy fun time.

I’m looking forward to creating more memories at the EOTEC facility. See ya at the fair!

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Tammy Malgesini is the community editor. Her column, Inside my Shoes, includes general musings about life. Contact her at tmalgesini@eastoregonian.com or 541-564-4539.

Transportation issues ... driving me crazy

By Tammy Malgesini

Staff Writer

Published on July 19, 2017 7:14AM

I hate traffic.

I seriously detest traffic — sometimes merely backing out of my driveway is enough to raise my blood pressure.

When heading to metropolitan areas, I have to find my Zen zone. If I’m driving, I don’t hesitate to go on the toll roads. And, in the Seattle area, there are even stretches of the “freeway” that have one lane that’s designated as a pay lane. Believe me, the fee is worth it.

I also use public transportation. However, there can be problems when leaving the driving to someone else. Being a bit directionally impaired and having no conceptual understanding of an inch equaling one mile, I’ve had issues.

One time I flew into Las Vegas and crashed in the hotel room some friends had checked into for a conference. While they were at meetings, I decided to go to an evening show. Not exactly sure where I was going, I took a bus down The Strip and then went to a taxi stand to take me the rest of the way.

The whole confrontation that ensued at the end of the ride could have been avoided if the taxi dude had explained that I could merely cut across the parking lot to my desired destination. He tried to soak me for a ride that barely lasted longer than me getting my seatbelt fastened.

When he parked, he announced some ungodly amount. I said, “No, that’s ridiculous. I’m not paying that much.” He threatened to call the police.

Undeterred, I told him fine — then you can waste your time and explain to them why you didn’t even turn on the meter. I shoved a $5 peace offering into his hand and quickly departed.

When I left the show, I followed a group of people to The Strip to catch a bus. I figured if I looked like I was with a crowd, then I wouldn’t be a target on the streets of Vegas.

The only problem is, I didn’t tell the group of people that I was pretending to be with. I’m not sure how intimidating a 5’2” blonde haired woman can appear, but they kept walking faster.

My short and stubby legs had a hard time keeping up. I finally got the attention of someone in the group and let them know they were serving as my safety herd. We all had a good laugh and they escorted me to my bus stop.

I learned from that experience.

When using public transit a couple of summers ago to go to a baseball game at Safeco Field in Seattle, I be-friended some gals on the bus ride from Everett. Although they jokingly said I’d have to remove my Yankee hat, they made sure I got to the stadium. We even made arrangements to meet afterwards to walk back to the bus stop.

During a recent trip to the Seattle area, John and I mostly stayed away from the I-5 corridor. It saved our sanity when it came to dealing with traffic. However, there was a sign that freaked me out on Highway 2, which we drove each day to visit my favorite mother-in-law.

It indicates how many days since the last serious crash. I don’t know the average number of days between bad wrecks but if the number gets way up there I’d be thinking that route was due. Just like when a batter has been in a slump, inevitably he’s gonna get a hit again. And, undoubtedly, a crash will occur again on Highway 2. It’s all good, it had been accident-free for nine days by the time we cruised back home.

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Tammy Malgesini is the community editor. Her column, Inside my Shoes, includes general musings about life. Contact her at tmalgesini@eastoregonian.com or 541-564-4539.

Watch out for solar luna(r)-tics during Aug. 21 eclipse

By Tammy Malgesini

Staff Writer

Published on July 3, 2017 10:19AM

We have become a society of commercialization.

I know I’m preaching to the choir when I say this. Remember the days when stores were closed on Thanksgiving and Christmas? I do. And, I liked it — even when I had to scramble to find some yeast one year on Christmas Day because ours had gone bad.

The latest event that’s been overrun by commercialization is the upcoming total solar eclipse.

If you’ve been hiding under a rock and haven’t heard about it — the celestial show, which features the sun hiding behind the moon’s shadow, is Monday, Aug. 21. The path of totality will touchdown at about 10:15 a.m. on the Oregon coast between Lincoln City and Newport. It will travel a swath through the entire state as it makes its way across the United States.

Seriously, people are getting crazy about a celestial happening. Expert eclipse meteorologist Jay Anderson, touting typically clear August skies, said Oregon offers a great chance to fully experience the cosmic phenomenon.

Evidently, the masses agree — more than 1 million people are expected to travel to the state to experience the sun’s dance with the moon. Even the Oregon Department of Transportation is concerned — urging people not to become luna(r)-tics. To reduce road congestion, they suggest arriving early, staying put and leaving late.

NASA is calling it an “experience of a lifetime.” Well, I must be extra special — because I recall experiencing a solar eclipse while living in Newberg when I was a freshman in college.

Only, back then, it seems people didn’t focus on making big bucks off the event. There weren’t a bunch of souvenir T-shirts, commemorative viewing glasses weren’t flooding the market and motel rooms weren’t outrageously priced.

For the August 21 event, Pendleton (which isn’t in the path of totality) is tossing its hat into the ring in hopes of cashing in as a “gateway to the eclipse.” Travel Pendleton has pondered offering packages that include accommodations and chartered buses to the path of totality.

I have no interest in dealing with the possibility of solar luna(r)-tics road rage. Without a shadow of a doubt — although, Hermiston doesn’t have a front row seat — local residents will be treated to quite the celestial show. The maximum coverage, which is all but a sliver, will occur at about 10:23 a.m. (to view a simulation, visit www.timeanddate.com/eclipse/in/usa/hermiston).

I don’t care what the solar snobs say, that’s good enough for me. I’ll crank up George Harrison’s “Here Comes the Sun” and don some special glasses during my second in a lifetime experience.

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Tammy Malgesini is the community editor. Her column, Inside my Shoes, includes general musings about life. Contact her at tmalgesini@eastoregonian.com or 541-564-4539.