The thought of Thanksgiving puts me right into the heat of my mother's kitchen. We chop and stir and baste for days, scrupulously following stuffing recipes 5 pages long, peeling endless sweet potatoes like we're in the galley of an aircraft carrier, praying that some relative will notice the difference between a parsnip and a turnip and the fact that we've pureed both.

Of course all the toil is an act of love, with just a little bit of strife along the way. I thought I'd ease the journey this year with the undeniable pleasure of a handknit oven mitt. I think every basting will be a joy...!

--Whitney