January 30^th was a long time coming. When my roommate came home last fall to tell me that the new construction down the street was going to be a Chipotle restaurant, I thought he was trying to play World Knowledge Quest.

"I'd really rather not." "But the kids, they'd love it." "Again, I don't think so. I really don't."

I’m quite certain that at this time of year it’s difficult for the discerning eater/socializer to find the ideal Thanksgiving dinner. Reviewers have just begun posting their thoughts on particular Thanksgivings, each advocating a different one to the reader. Let me go on record right now as saying that the Thanksgiving dinner I attended a week ago was without question the best Thanksgiving ever. If you only attend one Thanksgiving this year, you simply must make it the Thanksgiving dinner my family held last week. Allow me to be frank for a moment: there is a lot of luck when it comes to pulling off the perfect holiday gathering. We all remember Christmas Eve 1998 when a fight between my mother and grandmother conspired to ruin the holiday season. Only by chance did my aunt give to my father as a gift a trivia book which engrossed the family for the entire night and caused our memories of in-law antagonism to fade. How can we forget my uncle’s ham-fisted attempts at humor nearly spoiling the Fourth of July 2001, only to be negated by the timely arrival of fireworks which awed all members of my clan, young and old? For all the platitudes that I’m about to bestow on Thanksgiving 2007, luck played as big a role as the individual members present.

Thanksgiving Reviews By Zach Forsberg-Lary Thanksgiving # 1 “Friend’s Thanksgiving” Host: Joseph Rochira Location: Sawyer Ave. Warwick RI, 02818 Date: Sunday November 18, 2007 Time: 4:00 PM Attendees: 25+ Food Quantity: 10/10 Food Quality: 8/10 Food Variety: 7/10 X-Factor: 4/10 Overall Score: 6/10 High Point: Reminiscing with Pat Splaine about the dumb shit we used to do when we were kids. Low Point: Having to sneak out the back-door for a cigarette. Comments: Four turkeys: two oven-cooked, one deep-fried, and one smoked! Joe is a great host. His recently restored 1968? Camaro is looking pretty sharp. Heidi Warner called me a bad boyfriend because I left Erika to fend for herself with people she didn’t know. Miss Sandra D was in the house, which made me happy. Teddy Splaine asked gender-biased trivia questions after the meal. Thanksgiving # 2 “The Larys” Host: Richard and Marian Lary Location: 35 Sandalwood Ave. Warwick RI, 02886 Date: Thursday November 22, 2007 Time: 12:00 PM Attendees: 6 Food Quantity: 5/10 Food Quality: 8/10 Food Variety: 4/10 X-Factor: 7/10 Overall Score: 7/10 High Point: My Grandfather offered to teach me how to shoot guns next summer. I said I was interested. Low Point: Carrying tons of boxes from their basement to their attic before the meal. Comments: Good food, good company. There was kind of a lonely vibe in the house. Most of our family is in different states now, so it was kind of a weak showing. Had to rush out after dinner to make Thanksgiving # 3. Thanksgiving # 3 “The Townsends” Host: John and “Tyke” Townsend Location: 414 Middle Bridge Rd. Narragansett RI, 02879 Date: Thursday November 22, 2007 Time: 2:00 PM Attendees: 14 Food Quantity: 7/10 Food Quality: 8/10 Food Variety: 5/10 X-Factor: 8/10 Overall Score: 8/10

“Hello, Mr. Turkey wing,” I said. The turkey was silent. I kissed it. It was cold, frozen, thawing. “Come sit next to me at the fire,” I said. I carried over the turkey and sat it on my lap. A few minutes later I heard my mother’s voice. “Where is the turkey?” she said. By then the crotch of my pants was wet from the defrosting turkey. My mother said it would be my job to prepare the cranberry sauce. Our family has always bought the canned kind so I figured my job would be easy, but when I went to bed the night before I was restless. I won’t lie; I was nervous. I snuck downstairs and rumbled through the pantry for the cranberry can. When I found it I brought it to bed and slept peacefully. In the morning I awoke refreshed, but found calamity in the kitchen. Someone had lost the can opener. “My cranberry sauce will be ruined,” I said. “There’s a hacksaw on the workbench,” said my father. There were supposed to be steamed carrots, but someone forgot to boil the water and we just ended up with soggy orange sticks. We gave them to my dog, but he got sick and stopped eating before he even finished his second bowl. There was supposed to be pie too, but it disappeared like the can opener. We suspected my uncle until we noticed my dog slinking away with a grin on his face. It was almost like he couldn’t help laughing at our disappointment. He must have been faking it when he said he was full off of carrots. My father was in charge of the potatoes. He often liked to quote himself and refer to his potatoes as the best in town. They were usually lumpy and one year he had gotten them to taste like spoiled melon. There was hope this year though, at least until he accidentally dropped the whole container of cream into the pot. “This fucking stove,” he said and kicked the stove. It isn’t entirely clear why my father saw the stove at fault in this scenario.