At 7:00 a.m. it's hard to tell what the day has in store for you cloud wise. This morning it was overcast in the west, but the eastern horizon looked promising with some bits of sunlight seeping through. I had to leave for my shift at the
Arizona Humane Society before it was possible to determine which would prevail, but I had to pick a side. If I put the turkey thighs out and the clouds conquered, I'd come home to salmonella soup, if, on the other hand, the sun broke through, and I hadn't put anything out, it would be too late to get any solar cooking done today. I put my money on the partly cloudy eastern sky and set the
Sun Oven out.
No fancy recipe today, just another dry run leading up to Thanksgiving. I put two turkey thighs with some garlic and thyme in an oven bag, put it in an uncovered roasting pan, went off to do my volunteer work, and hoped for the best. I was working in the windowless clinic again so it was hard to monitor the weather. At nine a.m. I stepped outside. The sky was so grey that if it weren't for the fact that it's November and I was wearing a short sleeved t-shirt, I wouldn't have known I was in Arizona. I didn't leave the building again until noon. It was still mostly cloudy, but there was enough sunlight to cast a good shadow. My turkey might have made it after all.
When I got home the Sun Oven was at 200ºF; hot enough for safe cooking. There was too much condensation on the glass door to tell if the Turkey was ready, but I didn't want to open it and lose any precious heat. I was willing to bet that at such a low temperature it needed to cook longer. The sun was still making an effort to get the better of the clouds, so I left it alone.
The sun fought hard. For the next few hours it seemed to be winning, but right around 3:00 p.m. - when I probably would have brought the turkey in anyway - the clouds staged a major come-back. It was time to call it a day. Luckily, the few hours of sunlight had been enough to fully solar cook the two thighs; they were very tasty and would be perfect for Thansgiving.