When all the food was ready I handed the knife to one of the guests. Since he was a doctor with surgical experience, I figured carving a turkey would be easy, compared to cutting up a patient.

He stared at the bird. 'What do I do?' 'Cut where it's soft and don't cut where it's hard,' I replied.

Armed with this helpful advice, he proceeded to hack off chunks that would have pleased Fred Flintstone.

To prevent this disaster from happening to other hard-working cooks, I sought the advice of Josef Budde, executive chef of the Grand Hyatt Hotel in Wan Chai. He invited me into the hotel's spacious main kitchen.

Mr Budde said it was important to let the cooked turkey 'rest' for at least 20 minutes before carving: this allows the juices to re-distribute themselves instead of running out, which results in a dry turkey.

While it is resting, the cook can remove anything inedible - the trussing twine, string or plastic, as well as the button placed in some turkeys to tell the cook when it is done.

The carving implements are important - a solid, heavy two-pronged carving fork to help lift the bird, and a long, sharp, straight-edged carving knife. The carving board should be larger than the turkey, and if it has a trough around the edge it will catch the juices before they run all over the dining room table. Chef Budde placed a damp cloth under the board to prevent it from sliding around.

Some carvers wrap a cloth around their hand to prevent burns. Mr Budde wore two sets of gloves: disposable white cotton, and on top, light-weight, clear plastic gloves.

He lay the bird on its back, breast side up, and removed the legs by slicing through the skin between the leg and the body. The leg fell away, and cutting between the joint, he separated the drumstick and thigh from the hip. He put the legs on a warmed platter.

Chef Budde then inserted the two-pronged fork deep into the turkey's left breast. With the knife blade parallel to the board, he made a horizontal cut in the right breast, just above the wing, cutting until he hit the breast bone near the centre.

He demonstrated two ways to go after this. The 'American method' is to cut thin slices off the breast while keeping it attached at the centre bone, slicing against the grain at a 90-degree angle to the first cut.

The 'French method' is to remove the entire breast from the bird by cutting down parallel to the centre breast-bone until you reach the horizontal cut. You then place the whole breast on the board and carve it, again cutting across the grain.

Chef Budde put the thin, even slices on a platter, then went back to the legs, separating the drumsticks from the thighs by cutting between the joints. He sliced off the meat by cutting parallel to the bones. The wings give support to the bird as it is being carved, so they should come off last. They should be served whole.

Chef Budde poked the carcass with the fork, searching for bits he might have missed.

There was not much. After watching him, I could see where other carvers went wrong - they were not as methodical.

Chef Budde made the sensible suggestion that, if possible, before carving in front of guests, carvers should practise on chickens because they have the same bone structure. The same technique can be used on geese and ducks, although because geese have smaller legs, with more muscles and sinew, the drumsticks should be served whole.

The chef's next suggestion was not nearly as realistic for the average home cook. He said that to alleviate the problem of carving the turkey, it might be easier to remove all the bones before it was cooked, put the stuffing in the boneless carcass and roll it tight before baking; in front of guests the turkey could be sliced as easily as cutting up a loaf of bread.

He demonstrated on a small chicken: in less than 10 minutes, all the bones had been removed, and the bird - in one piece - lay completely flat on the board.

Compared to that, carving a turkey seems easy.