copyright the Chronicle November 23, 2016
by Elizabeth Trail
The worst Thanksgiving of my life was probably the year when, as a young wife, it was my turn to put on the holiday meal for my husband’s family.
My own family was 3,000 miles away in California.
The other day on the radio, a commentator talking about regional holiday menus said, more or less, “Well, let’s just not talk about California.”
The implication was that California Thanksgivings are all about exotic side dishes and getting the right wine.
Maybe there was a little bit of that, especially after my grandparents were gone. We’re a food curious lot. But whatever was on the table, the holiday was definitely about good food, family, and conversation.
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