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Turkey, the fun part

Thanksgiving dinner routinely tottered at the edge of meltdown at our house. It all got to the table, miraculously. And it got shoveled down in a matter of minutes. Maybe we were trying to put it behind us, this thing that had nearly poleaxed Mom. We were eager for the reliably serene second act: the next-day turkey clubs. They were then, as they are today, often better than the original, actually: peaceable, predictable, unhurried, enduring.

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