Barbra Austin

One year when I was in high school, my mother and her sisters decided to mix things up. Instead of our traditional Christmas dinner of turkey and all of the trimmings, we would just have “a bunch of appetizers” which people could eat at their leisure while opening presents and watching TV and playing games.

My grandmother was horrified.

One of the great pleasures of pie eating, my aunt Becky and cousin Carrie will tell you, is having the leftovers for breakfast the next morning. Apparently my brother, sister-in-law, and nephew agree: The day after Thanksgiving, what was left of the apple pie I had made quickly disappeared. Every time I went into the kitchen another slice was gone.

It’s time to break Brussels sprouts out of their Thanksgiving prison.