Why Christmas 2014 is Ruled by the Turducken

Once a fringe, novelty food item, Australians have taken the turducken to their hearts (and stomachs) this Christmas, writes Larissa Dubecki. To those who believe Christmas is all about goodwill and the wonderment of childhood: Season's greetings. But this year, Christmas belongs to the turkey-duck-chicken ménage a trois - commonly known as the turducken. It's stormed the Christmas table like a toddler seeing the Wiggles at Carols by Candlelight.

It might seem strange this babushka-like poultry creation has grabbed the Christmas imagination, but food trends are often based on little more than novelty factor (see also: the cronut and ramen burger). Consumers have proven so keen to experience this celebratory Frankenbird that Chris Gavriel from Melbourne's The Corner Chicken Shop says orders have "exploded" from 10 or 20 to a couple of hundred over the past few of years. From which sordid corner of a foodie's imagination did the turducken issue forth? The seeds for the bird orgy can be traced back to the Bedouin wedding feast extravaganza of a whole camel stuffed with a goat, stuffed with a sheep, then a chicken, then - eek - a fish. But who has 24 hours and a charcoal pit big enough to fit a full-grown camel? More to the point, who has an available camel? In comparison to the Bedouins, the turducken has no grand historical mission. Humans may well have been stuffing birds into bird cavities since the dawn of fire, but the first recorded use of the name is 1982. The spirit in which it was created remains a mystery. Was it a tribute to the subtle differences and myriad wonders of poultry? Or a simple Christmas joke that got out of hand?

This much we know: It sits in the dictionary between turdus (a member of the thrush family) and turdoid (thrushlike). Which leads to our first criticism. The turducken lobby needs to address the nomenclature as the first hurdle preventing world domination. The unfortunate four-letter beginning makes it less appetizing than if it was called, say, chiduckey, or turkenduck. Alternatives - multidisciplinary poultry feast, or triple-tiered bird roast - lack warmth. Some people report being intimidated by the turducken. Don't be. It's really just a glorified chickenloaf, especially if you outsource its making to the professionals. Go for it, by all means, if you have the time and skill to debone three birds and smash them together with sage and onion stuffing. If you're feeling confident you might even want to go the racy ménage a quatre and finish with a quail stuffed inside the chicken. And the verdict, based on a four-kilogram free-range turducken from the Corner Chicken Shop? Not meaning to create a giant storm of controversy, but turkey in general is a thankless meat. It's dryer than the Sahara. It makes chicken look exciting. The only reason it's a fixture of the Thanksgiving table is because each bird gives impressive bang for the buck - an understandable priority for those poor starving Pilgrims. The turducken, however, constitutes a great leap forward for the poor old gobbler. Maybe it was the stuffing soaking up all the fat, or the duck stepping into the breach to do more of the heavy lifting. With a big, crunchy batch of duck fat potatoes to keep it company, the turducken was a definitive success. And the lack of bones made it as no-fuss as can be.

Some observations. Three in four children will recoil in horror from the turducken. The junior set likes its food to be easily categorised, and the turducken will simply confuse them. There may be tears, and a quick dash to the supermarket for sausages. Best to classify the turducken as an adults-only experience. The turducken is a convivial option for the Christmas table, a conversation starter and a fairly easy option (pour in some chicken stock to surround it in the pan, bung it in the oven for a few hours). But ultimately the turducken experience left us pondering this: Do people who opt for turducken enjoy food, or do they enjoy novelty? There will be plenty of time to workshop the issue in the days after Christmas. Google "Turducken leftovers'' and a whole new world awaits. Turducken is the Christmas dinner that keeps on giving. Turducken tacos. Turducken frittata. Turducken tortilla soup. Turducken pot pie. An online contributor appropriately known as Jon_Evil suggests slicing the turducken, breading and frying it. A fine idea with a cheeky little remoulade on the side. Most of all, you can look forward to being the envy of the Ponsford Stand with your Boxing Day Test turducken sandwiches. This article was originally published on The Guardian