Perfect!

I sigh, put my slippered feet up, and draw my Scooby Doo comforter up to my neck. I can finally relax, having successfully prepared the perfect Thanksgiving meal. A twenty pound bird cooked to the color of burnished oak. Gooey white marshmallows floating in caramel sweet yams. Pumpkin, apple, and pecan pies bubbling.
In my dreams.
The reality is a bit, well, darker.
I don't get it. Higher temperatures equal faster results, right? Six hundred degrees are twice as efficient as three hundred? It's only logical, right? After all, I work for NASA and I'm into logic.
Anybody up for a buffet at the Stardust? I'm buying.
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