The picture doesn't exactly capture the moment, but what a moment it was.
This is my first plate from yesterday's Thanksgiving feast, held about a mile from here, at the home of my friends Scott and Giovani. There are tasty brussels sprouts, whole roasted carrots, delicious oyster stuffing, super-smooth mashed potatoes, and a very well turned out bit of fresh turkey.
The moment is about the manicotti, though. Because they were a closely guarded secret among all of the guests who attended the elegant holiday bash.
All of them except for me.
Long story short, my friends had read the piece that I had written about my mother's Thanksgiving manicotti. And so to honor her — a woman who they had never met, by the way — they decided to add an extra multi-step item to an already labor-intense menu.
I won't embarrass my friends by going on here, okay. They wouldn't want that.
Just so long as they know that I consider this moment to be an extraordinary gift. And always will.
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