My husband, Ham, is a chef, so last year for Thanksgiving at the restaurant, he and his team made 38 turkeys, 45 gallons of mashed potatoes, 400 pounds of stuffing, and 15 gallons of gravy. But despite all those turkeys, back at our apartment you won’t find us gathering around one. Instead, we fill our table with food that reminds us of all the big meals we ate growing up—yogurt-marinated roasts, saffron-stained basmati, bharta with pungent mustard oil, and bright sumac-speckled salads. We probably won’t see family this Thanksgiving, so cooking and serving our mothers’ food just like they would (i.e., making way too much and loading up the plates way too high) is how we’re going home. Even if we can’t fill the seats, we’re still filling the table.
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