While growing up in Western New York in late November was a special time. The cows were in the barn, most of the garden had been harvested, and for almost a full month by then, apple cider production was in full swing. There were brussel sprouts still in the ground and a few hard squashes were left to be harvested. Dad would be out hunting white tail deer. Most likely, there had been a few “snows,” some of which might really be sticking on the ground by Thanksgiving.

Grandpa & my Uncle Bill would come in from the barn, usually by 1 pm, just in time for dinner, which Gram would have been fixing for the past couple of days. Cooking for Thanksgiving dinner would be an almost two day affair.

With the sounds of the Macy’s day parade or the the post-game show in the background, the aromas of pumpkin pie and roasted turkey melding were magical. Here’s one of my family’s favorite dishes.

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