This is an archived article that was published on sltrib.com in 2015, and information in the article may be outdated. It is provided only for personal research purposes and may not be reprinted.

Did you know that if you put a turkey carcass in a dishwasher without detergent, it not only will pick the bones clean but also make a rudimentary soup? Yeah.

That was the day after Thanksgiving at our house in 1981. Tired of doing all the work, my wife ordered me to strip what meat remained on our turkey so she could make a week's worth of leftover meals.

Bored inside of a minute, my mental health issue kicked in. Imagination, impulsivity, and laziness is a disease, people. It causes no end of trouble. On T-Day +3 it cost us 75 bucks. Perhaps dishwashers today are made of sturdier stuff.

Today, I have learned my place in the Thanksgiving holiday. It's to be closely monitored by someone with maturity and a deep sense of responsibility. This task falls to my 14-year-old granddaughter, Hallie.

On Tuesday, Hallie took me to the Salt Lake Culinary Center for some Thanksgiving basic training. We met up with Diane Gemmill Sheya, a fellow former Skyliner ('70) and current Culinary Center director, who put us to work.

The word "culinary," as most of you know, is derived from the ancient pagan phrase for "non-fatal food preparation." Centuries ago, cooking was haphazard at best. Very often, the food people ate got even with them. It continued to do so until the ancient word "hygiene" was discovered.

Washed, gloved and aproned, Hallie and I carved turkeys for meals to be delivered to families that otherwise might not have Thanksgiving. Sadly, there were a lot of turkeys that needed carving.

The food was rounded up from local business donations by the Culinary Center and the South Salt Lake Police Athletic League, an organization of kids looking to improve themselves and their committee.

The operative word in turkey carving is "carve," not hack, chop, slash, or stab. Carve implies a level of care and skill, neither of which I possess in abundance. I once used a hatchet to section our Thanksgiving bird.

At the Culinary Center, I learned that the appropriate tool is not just any old knife, but rather a carving knife. Diane's husband, Richard, showed me how to properly hold and use it.

First is to make certain that the knife is sharp. This way your turkey won't end up looking like you cut it up with a mallet.

Under Richard's directions, the breasts came away clean. The joints parted easily, and the meat slid from the bone like magic. Richard's turkey slices were actual slices rather than wads of meat wrenched free and flung onto plates.

After the turkeys, it was mashed potatoes. Since it's impossible to have too many mashed potatoes, we peeled a lot of them.

Thanks to the military, I have a lot of experience peeling and cutting potatoes. And thanks to the Culinary Center and Hallie, I now have experience not cutting them into rude and amusing shapes.

Stuffing, pie, vegetables, cranberry sauce, gravy — the center went all out to make Thanksgiving something to be thankful for. In addition to cooking the meals, they boxed up and delivered frozen turkeys and hams, complete with all the trimmings.

Hallie and I came away from the center with new skills to make our own Thanksgiving better, and grateful for the opportunity to make sure other people actually got one.

Robert Kirby can be reached at rkirby@sltrib.com or facebook.com/stillnotpatbagley.