Thanksgiving for me is always the beginning of two months of absolute gluttony. The 4th Thursday of every November quickly blends into the first day of December–my birthday, which moves straight into Hanukah (my friends and I, Jewish and not always gorge on latkes), which then brings us to Christmas hams, pies, chocolates, chard and finally to New Year’s drinks.
I always try to make it back to California to spend Thanksgiving with my family, but I’ve spent each of my last five birthdates away from home so my parents always buy a cake on the last day of my stay and we celebrate in fluffy spongecake style. I’m 22 today, but for the first time in 10 years I don’t feel like I’m any older or wiser than I was yesterday or 355 days ago. But I’m ok with it–your early 20s are supposed to be fun and transformative without being too serious, right? I still look forward to and value a lot of the same things I did last year; I love my friends and family–I’m so lucky to have them in my life. One of my impossible dreams is still to marry Jon Hamm; I remain restless, easily made slightly anxious by complacence, and eager for adventure. My bank account is still being sucked dry by my weakness for good food and Anthropologie; I’m still too interested in enjoying my life to constrain my impulses.
So much remains the same. BUT!!!!!! One thing has changed!!!!!!! Brussels sprouts, which I didn’t love before have become my weird new veggie obsession (last was kale). Roasted with olive oil, honey, and balsamic vinegar, and dressed with a good sprinkling of sea salt, they taste like the bright, caramelized crunch of summer in these last quickly darkening days of fall (the sun sets at 4:45pm?!?!?).