The actual practice of gratitude — the quiet, private act of noticing what is good and letting yourself feel it, without reporting it or optimizing it or turning it into a habit to be tracked.

The aspiration, if there is one for the Thanksgiving table, is not a table that looks like anywhere else.

 A garden with beautiful bones looks extraordinary in November in the way that a garden without them never quite does, regardless of how spectacular its June border may be.

Proper mulled wine is a specific thing: a red wine with enough body to carry warm spices, heated gently to just below a simmer, sweetened with restraint, and served in a thick-walled glass while still steaming.

The kind of dish that requires almost nothing and produces something that tastes like it required everything. Fully plant-based as written.