Many of us won’t be able to be with loved ones this Thanksgiving, and perhaps for the entire holiday season. But even apart, there should be space for traditions to persist. Here,Courtesy of Jessie Heyman
My family has very few traditions, save for one: the broccoli casserole. This dish, served in an oval-shaped enamel roaster, has made an appearance at every holiday table in my memory. As a child, I was captivated by its color—a gooey mélange of chartreuse and golden brown. For years, I couldn’t imagine anything tastier: cheesy, buttery, vegetable-forward.As I grew up, I learned: frozen broccoli, a block of Velveeta cheese, a sleeve of Ritz crackers, and an entire stick of butter.
My mom has never been much of a drinker. A glass of wine, typically white, tends to linger at her place setting at family meals. Meanwhile, she’s surrounded by fairly enthusiastic wine drinkers—my sister and her husband, my wife and me, and my step-father, who arrived at Thanksgiving last year with a canvas bag straining with the weight of bottles. We lined them up on the kitchen counter—and somehow drank them all. Mom helped only with the Champagne. Sheearly mealtime.
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