I am one of those people who are predisposed to think anything from Costco is a good value. Kirkland signature paper towels are the only kind I buy. I live in Costco sweatpants and leggings. The pink casket they sell online with “Mother” embroidered inside? Bury me in one when I die.

So I’ve been intrigued by Costco’s prepackaged Thanksgiving dinner for a while. This online-only “gourmet” kit promises everything you need for a heat-and-eat Thanksgiving dinner for eight people, including pre-made sides, rolls, dessert and a five-pound Amish-raised turkey breast. The price is especially attractive: It’s on sale for $200, or about $25 per person.

I understand that the idea of a pre-made Thanksgiving dinner is anathema to some readers, those of you who search the internet for the best pumpkin pie recipe or risk a house fire to deep-fry your turkey. Me? I want to skate by doing the bare minimum for the holidays. Life is stressful enough.

The box was initially scheduled to come early Wednesday afternoon, but FedEx wasn’t able to deliver it until 9 p.m. This made me nervous since the tracking page showed the meal had already been in transit for two days. But when I lifted the lid off the cooler, everything inside was still very cold and in some cases — like the turkey — frozen solid.

As I took out the contents, though, I was instantly put off. The sides arrived in nondescript metal trays that made me feel like I was preparing to spend the holiday in a bunker. Is it the end of the world? Probably yes.

The Costco meal is made by Fortune Fish & Gourmet, based in the Midwest. The company includes a sheet with easy-to-follow instructions for how long to stick everything in the oven, starting with that frozen turkey. I was somewhat alarmed to read you actually cook the turkey in its vacuum-sealed plastic bag, as though you haven’t read a single story about microplastics all year.

Halfway through the roasting, I ran to the hardware store to pick up a meat thermometer. Despite setting a timer, I got distracted and left the turkey in the oven too long. According to my thermometer, the bird had reached an internal temperature of 175 degrees — 10 higher than the minimum USDA recommendation. Yet the bird remained moist and tender. Score one for the plastic bag. Together with the gravy and really delicious cranberry relish that came with it, it was actually super tasty.

The sides were somewhat retro in nature and ranged from just OK — I didn’t love the mashed potatoes or the cornbread stuffing, which had an oddly tangy flavor — to decent and even good. I liked the green bean casserole and the macaroni and cheese, which both looked and tasted homemade and could easily be doctored up with some additional cheese and breadcrumbs. Unfortunately, this package was missing my personal favorite Thanksgiving side: sweet potatoes with marshmallows on top.

Two desserts come with every order, including a buttery but not-too-sweet apple crumble that was surprisingly mouthwatering after I’d heated it up in the oven, plus a serviceable pumpkin pie that tasted exactly like every other pumpkin pie I’ve ever had in my life (but still pretty good). Two desserts is the minimum amount of desserts I want on Thanksgiving. Why? Because I believe that the most important thing about Thanksgiving food isn’t that it tastes good, it’s that there’s so much of it that you feel like you’re going to explode afterwards.

Which brings me to the question of portions. I think if everyone eats a normal-size amount you could get away with feeding eight people with this meal. I shared it with just three other people, including my mom and toddler, and we had leftovers for days.

Overall, once I suppressed the memory of unpacking this whole thing and my passing fears that the whole experience was really a vision of the coming apocalypse, I was pleased with how the feast turned out. My mother, a fellow Costco enthusiast who has hosted around 50 Thanksgivings in her lifetime, was even more impressed.

“I loved it,” she said. “I would get it in a heartbeat.”