This year, I am hosting Thanksgiving for my family. That Thursday night, 14 people will find themselves crowded around my table that comfortably seats eight, hopefully eating turkey that is cooked and mashed potatoes that aren’t lumpy, hopefully laughing and talking easily.
Hosting Thanksgiving feels intimidating, not least because it feels like the epitome of food holidays. It was with equal surprise and trepidation that I realized my family has somehow deemed me adult enough to host such an iconic meal, and I don’t want to mess it up.
