Thanksgiving morning I got a frantic call from my mom telling me she didn’t mean to call me but her kitchen sink was broken so she didn’t have time to chat.

You know what that means? It means the turkeys needed to get rinsed outside with a hose. I didn’t even realize we had to rinse turkeys before we cooked them. I made myself useful by refusing to go near the raw birds and photographing my sister and brother-in-law as they struggled with them.

each in their own way.

Maturity runs in my family.

Stick it where the sun don’t shine.

Turkeys turned out a-ok.

If you’re wondering why we had two enormous turkeys it’s because I have one enormous family.

In the morning my mom made the most incredible, crunchy on the outside, melty soft on the inside pumpkin bread. Totally vegan but totally normal and amazing tasting.

and tiny cornbread muffins:

and no event is complete at my house without fresh hummus:

my sister roasted brussel sprouts with olive oil, salt and pepper:

Made heshwe (my questionable spelling of the Arabic dish made of rice, meat, and spices that makes me regret veganism every day):

I made waaaaaaayyyy too much fennel salad with kalamata olives and chopped roasted bellpeppers.

My uncle ordered fresh stone crab from Florida, a tradition I was sad to miss out on this year:

In an effort to embarrass my brother-in-law as much as possible in this post, let me introduce you to his holiday wedgie:

OK let’s be real. By the time the sweet potatoes, the mashed potatoes, the gravy, the cranberry sauce and all the other standards were out on the table I basically retired from picture taking/documenting the meal. So I’ll give you a few dessert shots but that’s it.

Oh and don’t mind the weird gross yellow lacy tablecloth that is in NO WAY indicative of my mom’s fine taste. The only place that fabric belongs is on a Russian prostitute’s short sleeved mock turtleneck over a black bra. 1990. Don’t act like you can’t visualize it.

The best part about Thanksgiving is not foul play with fowl or Russian prostitute tablescapes. It’s stepping back and watching my family, gathered around the kitchen table we’ve enjoyed for almost 30 years, eating, talking, and playing nice.

and these little dudes:

Thankful for my family, my food, and my readers, among other things. especially the readers that comment. the rest of you are anonymous and frankly, it’s hard to appreciate you if you’re a secret. just sayin’.

My freezer contents are kind of a multicultural bummer.

Russian water:

Persian snow:

Arabic bread: