A/N: Getting close...

Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes

Most characters belong to S. Meyer

Chapter 33 – Don't Forget the Pecan Pie

BPOV

Though it'll only be the three of us tonight, I've prepared a huge, twenty-one pound turkey because I love me some Thanksgiving leftovers, so I'm cooking enough to last a week!

Right now, I'm making the potato salad, and I got Mel up bright and early to assist. I wasn't sure how she'd be this morning, this being her first Thanksgiving without her parents. But as she crumbles the cornbread into small pieces, she smiles and tells me that her mom used to love cooking for Thanksgiving too. It warms me to see how much easier she talks about her parents lately. Sometimes, her sweet voice still drops to a whisper when discussing them, and she takes these big breaths like she's gathering courage - but there's that smile.

So I mix a couple of tablespoons of mayo into the cooked potatoes and then add in the chopped red onions and peppers and lots and lots of cilantro. Meanwhile, Mel tells me about the dinners her mom and Aunt Rose used to prepare, all while she measures out six cups of rice into the colander and washes it off so that we can add it to the large pot of gandules sautéing in sofrito. The pasteles that Angie's mom gave me are in the freezer, and I'll put those to cook as soon as we get back home, and just the thought of their aroma in the kitchen...

I'm salivating here.

"What was your mom's favorite dish to make?"

"Chocolate Pecan Pie!" Mel yells out quickly.

"Chocolate Pecan Pie! Aw man, that sounds so good!" I moan.

"Bella, I wish you could've tasted my mom's Chocolate Pecan Pie! It was sick!"

"I can imagine." I move over to her and help her carefully add the rice into the boiling peas and sofrito mixture. "I mean, chocolate in the Pecan Pie! That's genius! I bet it was crazy sick!"

She chuckles softly and releases a few, big sighs. "It was."

I wrap an arm around her shoulder, and she drops her head into the crook of my neck.

"Uncle Edward talks to them when we go to the cemetery, but I…" She shakes her head, lifting up her clear, blue eyes to the ceiling. "It hurts me to go there. I want to, but...I…" she trails off.

Drawing in a deep breath, I turn her to face me. "Mellita, listen to me. If your uncle feels comfortable talking to them at the cemetery, that doesn't mean that's the way you have to go about it."

"But he gets upset when I don't want to go."

I have to think of a way to put this carefully because Edward and I have spoken about it. "I think…I think what upsets him isn't that you won't go to the cemetery; rather, it's that you don't…communicate with them anymore."

"But they're dead, and it…hurts to pretend that they're not," she says tearfully, and I hug her completely to me. "I want to talk to them, but I don't know how…or where." Her tears pool on my shoulder.

"Mel…I've never lost the way you have, but do you want to know what I believe…what I really believe?"

"Yes," she says anxiously. I pull her away so that I can look at her pretty face, wet with tears and a runny nose.

"I believe that when we lose people in this world, on this level, they're still around, but on a different level. Though we can't see or hear them anymore, they communicate with us in different ways: through a bright sunshine, through a friend's smile…through an uncle's love. And I truly believe that when you're ready, they'll hear you no matter where you are – when you're ready. Does that make sense?"

She nods slowly.

We go back to our prep, and eventually she's talkative again. That's the great thing about being almost thirteen: the world is one big distraction. We watch the Macy's parade on the small, kitchen TV while we finish preparing for our feast for three. We squeal over the performers, ooh and ahh over the floats – all while thanking God we're not out there freezing off our asses, but instead we're in here nice and warm and together.

Meanwhile, I think of Edward…always on my mind.

But we're smelling all this yumminess and absolutely dying for dinner tonight. The chorizo I'm sautéing for the stuffing fills the kitchen with a savory scent that makes my mouth water.

"Alright, so I think we've got enough rice and stuffing to take some to your Aunt's house and to snack on from now 'til your birthday," I joke while fluffing up the finished stuffing.

"Why do we have to go to Aunt Rose's so early?" Mel complains. She's sitting on the counter, taste-testing the mashed sweet potatoes with the streusel topping. "Can't we just wait 'til Uncle Edward comes home, and the three of us can go together?"

"I'm not sure what time Edward will be home," I say, my chest feeling heavy because I miss him, and truth be told, I'm worried, and I just want him here with us.

And I miss my parents, but I'm still pissed off at my dad for the way he treated Edward when we went over for dinner.

And I haven't heard from Ben yet.

And this is Mel's first Thanksgiving without her parents, and I want to make it as stress-free for her as possible.

"We'll go early," I say cheerfully, "and we'll have a nice Thanksgiving brunch with your aunt and her husband and your cousins, and your uncle will meet us there as soon as he can."

OOOOOOOOOO

Edward's sister has been crying.

She avoids my gaze, keeping her head down while she works, but her pretty, blue eyes are red-rimmed, and her mascara is smudged, which is a shame because other than that, she looks so beautiful today. She's got on a brown wrap dress that flatters her figure wonderfully. I mean, she's had three kids and that figure – wow. I hope I look that good when I've popped out a kid or three.

And then I think of Edward and imagine him holding a baby - our baby.

And I blink rapidly because I'm in the kitchen with Rosalie, helping her get her food ready, and I know she's upset, so I can't really wander off into thoughts of Edward and green-eyed babies right now.

So I'm spooning her green beans into a casserole dish while she carves the turkey, bitching about how dry it looks and how she overcooked it because the kids were driving her nuts, and Mel sifts some cinnamon into the egg nog while little Seth runs around us all in circles with that Nerf gun that Mel has threatened three times to stuff up the turkey's behind.

"Damn it!" Rose yells.

I stop spooning green beans and turn around. She's holding up a bleeding index finger.

"You've got Band-Aids in here?"

"In that drawer there," she signals crossly, her voice shaking like she's about to cry, only I don't think it has anything to do with the small gash on her finger.

I get the Band-Aid out of the drawer while Seth shoots his mother's leg.

"Aunt Rose, why don't you ask Uncle Royce to carve the turkey? Dad used to always do it," she says quietly. "Remember? He used to say it was a man's job."

"Royce isn't here. Seth, stop it!" she yells when he shoots her arm. Tears form in the corners of her eyes.

Oh boy.

"Mel, honey," I say, wrapping the Band-Aid tightly around Rose's bleeding finger, "why don't you take Seth into the living room and see if they want to watch that Grinch movie we brought?"

"Alright, yeah," Mel nods, like she knows her aunt's about to lose it.

Once Mel and Seth are gone, Rose's tears start falling insistently while we both stare at the Band-Aid wrapped around her finger.

"I know we don't know each other that well, but if you want to talk-"

She drops her head to my shoulder and starts sobbing, and damn...damn, damn. I wrap my arms around her, and she really lets loose, and I have no idea what to say, so I say nothing. I just hold her here, and let her cry on my shoulder – the same shoulder Mel cried on earlier - for the next ten minutes. Then I feel guilty because I wore this blouse for Edward and all I can think of is how it's full of tears and snot now, and I'll have to change as soon as I get home. It's a see-through, cream-colored, loose-hanging blouse with a lace skin-tone stretch tank top underneath, and it goes beautifully with the brown tights and thigh-high, burgundy leather boots I'm wearing. I really liked this outfit.

"He cheats."

Ah shit.

She lifts up her head, and her eyes, full of so much pain and betrayal, meet mine.

"Are you sure?"

She nods, quiet tears still streaming. "He came home late last night, as usual," she snorts, "smelling like cheap sex and cheap perfume. He denied it, but…I mean, he can't even be bothered to clean up," she chokes. "We argued, and he swore never again, but he always swears…and then this morning, he left, and it's fucking Thanksgiving!" she hisses. "The kids…if he were to get run over by a bus, they probably wouldn't even notice. Do you know how sad that is?"

I stroke her hair the entire time. It's long and soft, but her ends are split. She needs a good trim, but with three kids and a husband that's always off fucking around, when do you find time?

"I deserve it anyway."

"Don't say that," I shake my head fiercely. "No one deserves to be treated that way."

"I've allowed him to get away with it for years! Even though I hate it! Even though it kills me inside! Of course I deserve it!"

I bite my lip uncomfortably.

She cries angry tears now. "They all warned me. Jasper warned me, Alice warned me, even Edward warned me. But what the hell did they know, right? Especially Edward…he drank so much he couldn't even remember who he'd fu-"

She stops herself, but it's already out there, and I have to fight to keep myself from pulling her fucking split-ended hair out from its roots.

"I'm sorry."

I don't respond because I don't trust myself not to curse her out.

"I mean, I've tried for the sake of the kids, but it's Thanksgiving!" she repeats, dropping her head and shaking it from side to side. "I should've listened, but all I saw was an escape," she snickers bitterly. "And now I'm stuck worse than ever."

My mind wanders again…and I see myself in her shoes…and…Eli in her husband's…and I cringe internally at the thought that I could've ended up this way: tied to the wrong man, letting life pass me by while I bitch and moan to hide how worthless I feel.

"You're not stuck," I insist, my heart thumping uneasily though the entire time I remind myself that her situation is different. It is. My tie to Eli is a dance studio; her tie is three kids.

"Three kids, Bella," she smiles sadly as if she's read my mind. "They're my life. I can't…" she sighs. "Jasper, Edward and I grew up without a father, and…I don't want to do that to them."

"I'm sorry," I say carefully, "but from what I've seen, they are growing up without a father."

She grimaces and drops her head. "I'm such an idiot."

"Look, you just need to…to breathe, Rose. He's the idiot here, not you. You said you've tried, and he should've tried too, for the sake of the kids - like you just said. Does Edward know about any of this?"

She shakes her head. "I haven't wanted to tell him because of…you know…his…issues," she snorts a bit derisively.

This time, I resist the urge to knee her in the crotch.

"He puts on his best face for you, but that brother of mine has one mean temper, Bella, and it's worse when he's been drinking."

"He's not drinking anymore," I retort defensively. "And he's not putting on any faces. Yes, he has a temper, but he's your brother and apparently the only real man in your life, and he cares about you and the kids."

"Men are assholes," she cries again.

I sigh. "Yeah, some men are assholes," I agree. "I've known a couple of doozies myself. But not all of them are that way. Your brother definitely isn't. He's strong, and he's loyal, and he's kind and caring, and if you give him a chance, he'll be here for you – and for the kids."

She looks up at me then, her lips trembling. "I don't want to give Edward more problems than he can handle."

With a small chuckle, I take her hand in mine. "Just yesterday, someone told me that the world doesn't stop spinning no matter what. We just all have to…help each other out."

She's quiet for a while. "I know I'm hard on him, but you weren't there, Bella. It's…hard to see him as a different man now. It's hard to see him as…responsible, capable of taking care of Mel."

"As hard as that may be for you," I tell her firmly, "you have to do it. Jasper and Alice saw the good in him; that's why they left Mel to him. You have to accept it, Rose. And honestly, I don't want you bad-mouthing him anymore; not in front of me and definitely not in front of Mel. I don't want to hear about the Edward of the past. This Edward is the only one I know, and it's the only one I'll go by."

She looks contrite all of a sudden. "Edward is lucky to have you."

"I'm lucky to have him."

A small smile forms on her lips. "Look at me anyway, right? What do I know about picking them? I can't even pick one who'll spend the fucking holidays with his own children."

I draw in a deep breath and sigh. "We all make mistakes picking them sometimes, Rose. Look…why don't you come home with Mel and me? I've made a huge turkey with plenty of sides. Leave that dry-ass turkey here for that asshole to choke on when he does show up."

She laughs despite the tears still in her eyes, and I smile at her.

"You can relax and take your mind off of everything for a little while."

"I don't want to intrude. I know Edward was looking forward to spending the evening with just you and Mel."

"Rose…you're Edward's sister. You're Mel's aunt. You're family. You're not an intrusion."

"Are you sure?"

I wrap an arm around her shoulder and lead her out of the kitchen. "Yeah. 'Course I'm sure."

OOOOOOOOOO

So with Rose and her kids following in her minivan, Mel and I drive back to Brooklyn without having had our Thanksgiving brunch.

"Uncle Royce was always an asshole," Mel says out of the blue.

"First, language. Second, how do you even know what happened?"

"Rachel told me," she shrugs. "She said her mom and dad were fighting worse than usual last night, and her dad left this morning, and she hopes he never comes back."

Did I know this much when I was a kid? It kinda breaks my heart that they do.

"Well," I sigh, "don't tell Uncle Edward. That's for your Aunt Rose to tell him when she's ready."

"Fine," she smirks, shrugging again, "but he was an a-hole."

My cell phone vibrates, and since I'm driving, I ask Mel to take a look.

"Eww! Gross! Uncle Ed is sexting you!"

I almost drive Edward's truck into the divider.

"No, he's not. No, he's not!"

She reads the text message back to me.

"He's just hungry!" I point out.

"Hungry for you!"

"Mel!"

"Alright, alright!"

OOOOOOOOOO

Edward is undeniably surprised that his sister and her brood came home with us, but though he's not upset per se, something is definitely a bit…off with him. He's quiet, if not necessarily broody. It makes me nervous about what the heck may have gone on this morning at that meeting. Still, he's smiling, and he's here, and now we've got a full house so we can't really get into it at the moment. Edward is setting up the table with extra fold-up chairs I had in the small, second-story loft, and I'm getting those pasteles in a pot of boiling water. And Rose's kids are running around while she and Mel chase them. It sounds like there are thirty more people up in here instead of four more – but it's all good.

While I'm adding salt to the pot, Edward comes up behind me and wraps those strong arms around my hips. His warm breath washes over the back of my neck, and I can feel every line of his hard body behind me, against me, and he feels so good.

"Baby, you look so fucking hot in this outfit," he breathes in my ear, sucking softly on my earlobe before resting his chin on my shoulder. "You always look hot. I can't wait to get you out of these clothes."

"You're contradicting yourself," I chuckle softly. "Didn't you just say you liked my outfit?"

"I do. But I like your bare skin more." His hands slide under my blouse, and his rough hands palm my breasts, making my breath hitch.

"Edward..." I breathe, stirring the water in the pot while my heart races, "there are people..."

"They're in the other room...can't see us." He nips my neck softly while one hand moves down my body, cupping between my thighs. "So damn hot," he hisses, his hands busy massaging me. I arch into him instinctively, feeling his erection against my ass.

"Edward..." I chuckle, trying to keep my legs from buckling. "Not now...we've got all weekend...besides, I've got a collection of tears and snot right where you're resting your chin."

He backs off right away, and I turn around, smirking as he adjusts himself.

"Who was crying? Mel?" he asks.

When I nod, he frowns and rakes a hand through his hair.

"Don't worry, she's okay now."

He nods. "Who else was crying on your shoulder, little Leah?"

I shake my head.

"Seth?"

Shaking my head again, I hold his gaze.

It takes him a couple of seconds, but then his mouth turns up in an angry scowl. "What the hell did that ass do now?"

"It's not for me to tell. When she's ready, she'll talk to you about it."

He sighs.

"So who did you invite?" I ask to change the subject.

"Uh…" – another rake of the hair – "Emmett's family is far away, and he was going to spend the evening alone so…"

"I'm glad you invited him," I smile. "We've got more than enough food."

"You haven't seen Em eat." Though he chuckles, his eyes are still clouded, so I wrap my arms around his waist and look up at him.

"Tell me what happened today."

He shifts his eyes away from me, and now I'm really starting to get concerned.

"We'll talk about it later."

"Edward…"

"Fucking Royce," he hisses, "You know how many times I've told her to just dump his ass?"

Now he's the one changing the subject.

"It's not that easy; she's got three kids," I reply, though I know what he's doing.

"If I had him in front of me right now…"

"That probably wouldn't help the situation, Edward."

"I know, I know," he mutters. His hands grip my hips tight though his eyes are still on something beyond me. "Just adding another name to my blacklist…"

I close my eyes and expel a long gust of air through my nose. When I reopen them, his eyes are on me again, gazing at me contritely.

"What happened today?" I try again.

His finger circles my lips, around and around. "No one's in jail," he smiles faintly, and I groan. He chuckles and pulls me flush against him, wrapping me in his strong arms, and though I want to know, at the same time, I don't. He's here. We're together.

I reach up and wrap my arms tightly around his neck, holding on with all my might.

"I love you."

"I know you do. And you know how I feel about you."

"Oh, now you're vague," I look up at him and get on my tip toes, whispering close to his ear. "But when you're inside me, the I love yous fly all over the place."

It's his turn to groan. He grabs my ass and squeezes each cheek tightly inside his palms. "You're trying to kill me with all these people up in here, knowing I can't take you on that bed right now…" – he smiles wickedly – "or in that bathroom…or on this counter...we need walls."

"We definitely do."

He chuckles, and kisses me, warm tongue sliding inside my mouth, and I completely forget everyone else up in here, my hands grabbing those hard muscles, feeling his hands caress my backside smoothly.

"I'll help as much as I can tonight," he says when I come up for air, "especially since most of the extra guests are my people. Besides, I don't want you too tired before this weekend…"

The butterflies in my belly dance with excitement though I know we've got more to talk about – but we'll leave it for later. He's distracting me, and I'll let him - for now.

OOOOOOOOOO

Edward offers to keep an eye on Rose's kids while she helps Mel and I set up the food on the table. At first, I can tell that she's wary about having Edward watch her kids. It pisses me off until something hits me:

Rose isn't used to having a man help with the kids – that might be part of the reason she gives Edward such a hard time with Mel.

But as we get one dish after another set out, Rose begins to relax. She smiles as she watches her three kids roughhousing with their uncle.

The doorbell rings as I'm peeling the banana leaves off of the pasteles.

"I got it, Babe," Edward calls out, and a few seconds later I hear a gruff and hearty laugh that must be Edward's boss and buddy, Emmett.

"I didn't know you were expecting more company," Rose mentions while she spoons the rice into a serving bowl.

"Yeah, Edward invited his buddy, Emmett."

The spoon clatters onto the bowl. "Oh."

"You know Emmett?"

"Yeah. Yeah, Emmett's been around for a while."

Edward brings Emmett into the kitchen, and right away I can see why he and Edward are good friends. He's got this wide, infectious grin on his face, this huge and muscular guy who's even bigger than Edward. He's cute I guess, though no one's as hot as my man. And when Edward introduces us, I must admit that, unlike Edward, he's friendly from the get go. I've got a feeling we'll be seeing a lot more of him around here.

When the doorbell rings again, Edward looks up at me. "Uh…there were a couple of more…"

I frown as he walks to the door…and my eyes widen when Sue appears, trailed by Edward…and my Dad behind him.

I swallow the lump in my throat as I rush to them.

"What...how..." I try to ask while Sue hugs me tightly.

"Edward spoke to your Dad," she whispers. "There are things…but we'll leave that for later…"

I nod vehemently. Yes, I know there are things, and yes, we will leave them for later.

When Sue releases me, my dad watches me warily, yet as soon as I'm near enough, he reaches out and wraps me in his arms. I close my eyes, and he sighs.

"Is this okay?" he asks hesitantly.

"This is more than okay. I'm so glad you guys are here."

I open my eyes, and Edward is standing a couple of feet away, watching me with a soft smile.

OOOOOOOOOO

We're all gathered around the crowded-to-the-max table. The chairs are practically piled up one on top of the other, and the dishes are jam-packed so close together it looks like one long buffet line. Edward and I are going back into the kitchen for the crowning glory – the turkey - when the doorbell rings yet again.

"Don't look at me," Edward says this time.

Frowning, we both hurry to the door. When I open it, Angie walks through in black jeans and red, six-inch stilettos that match the color of her lips – oh, and a bottle of Bacardi under one arm, two six-packs in her hand, and a grocery bag in the other hand.

"So Titi Maria told Titi Sylvia that Tio Samuel tried to grab her ass at Thanksgiving Dinner, 1964. So of course, Tio Tomas had to defend his seventy-year old bittie's honor. You should've seen those wrinkled fists flying!" she chuckles. "I mean, it was fitty damn years ago, and they've popped out a dozen kids between the four of them since! And then the old bitties went at it, and my damn head hurts from all the yelling and screaming, so I swiped Abuela's Bacardi and my sister-in-law's beer, and here I am!"

I blink at her, but all I see is that bottle of Bacardi and the beer cans. When I look at Edward, his eyes are stuck to them too.

"What?" Angie frowns, looking from me to Edward and back. "I swear I won't eat too much, and I'll wash my own dishes. I'll wash all the dishes! Just don't make me go back there with those nutcases!"

Edward takes Angie by the elbow and swings her around back to the door. I follow them to the hallway, my heart racing.

"What the hell? Are you seriously throwing me out? Bellita, stop him!"

"Edward!"

Edward takes the Bacardi and six packs from Angie. He walks to the garbage chute a few feet away, opens it up and deposits them in, closing it soundly.

Angie smirks at him. "That wasn't just any Rum you threw out, Papi. That was Bacardi Premium. Abuela's top stash."

He grins as he walks back towards us, and rests his hands on Angie's shoulders. "I wasn't trying to throw you out, you nut. I'm an alcoholic. It's my first year of sobriety, and it's still a bit hard for me to be around that shit."

"Oh man, I had no idea!" Angie turns to me accusingly. "Bellita, why the hell you didn't tell me?" she asks with a shove.

"It wasn't for me to tell," I respond, shoving her back.

"Aye, Papi Chulo, don't sweat it." She waves her empty hand his way. "Pretend you didn't see those." Then she lifts the grocery bag in her other hand. "Now here I've got all the ingredients to make Great-Grandmother Sarita's world famous Puerto-Rican Coquito. It's a recipe that's been handed down from generation to generation. Granted, the star ingredient just went down the garbage chute," she muses, "but screw it, we'll rewrite the recipe! Tonight we're gonna make the best damn Virgin Coquito outside of the island – even if Abuela Sarita does turn in her grave." She shrugs, and then plants a kiss on Edward's cheek before walking back inside, shaking that ass while dancing to music only she can hear.

Edward and I stand there and look at each other.

"Mel, Princesa! What's cooking, Sweetie? Sue! Charlie! Good to see you! Who are the rest of these people? I'm Angie, Bella's bestie."

We break out into fits of laughter.

OOOOOOOOOO

We've reserved a spot in the middle of the table for the Turkey. Edward carries it in from the kitchen and sets it in its place of honor. We all gaze at it reverently with its golden brown, crispy skin, and the scent wafting off…amazing if I do say so myself.

So he backs away, and I guess we're all instinctively deferring to age as rank. Everyone looks at my dad. He walks over to the turkey and picks up the carving knife, lifting it over the turkey. With baited breath and salivating mouths, we all wait for the first slice.

But then Charlie looks up, and his eyes immediately find Edward, who's sitting next to me in these tightly bunched chairs at this Thanksgiving feast that was supposed to be for three, but which now holds everyone I love most in the world.

"This is yours and my daughter's feast. You should carve."

Edward stares at him and swallows. He doesn't move, and for a few seconds, I think he's going to ignore him. But then with a deep breath, his eyes firmly on the turkey, Edward stands up, walks over to Charlie's side, and takes the knife from him. Then silently, he begins slicing.

And so we serve ourselves turkey and stuffing and rice and sweet potatoes, and the string beans Rose brought, and the fresh bread Sue baked. The Pecan Pies Em brought are waiting in the fridge. When Em walked in with them, Rose remembered that Alice had once given her a recipe for Chocolate Pecan Pie. She's promised Mel that they'll make it together. Emmett said he'd love to taste that because like Mel, he loves Pecan Pie.

And we've got virgin Coquito too.

And I look around at this overstuffed table full of people talking and laughing, and Edward, who's returned to my side, squeezes my thigh under the table. We've got issues we need to discuss, but we all have issues, everyone here at this table. Yet we're here together tonight, and I've got a feeling, we're starting new traditions.

"We need to give thanks," Sue reminds us before anyone can dig in.

"I'll carve a turkey, but I'm no good with the speeches," Edward grins.

"May I say it?" Mel asks shyly.

"Of course," I smile.

She takes a deep breath, her blue, blue eyes on mine and then bows her head.

"Thank you…for everything. For Uncle Edward finding Bella, for my Aunt Rose and my cousins, and even for Seth who I'm gonna kill if he shoots me with that gun again. Thanks for helping Emmett remember the Pecan Pie, and for Angie, who always makes me laugh."

"Parapam!" Angie deadpans.

"Thank you for Bella's mom and dad," Mel resumes, "who are so cool for people their age, and…thank you…for my mom and dad." Her sweet voice shakes, but remains strong. "Thank you for giving them to me – even if it was just for a few years. They were the best parents ever. I…I love you Mom and Dad. And I miss you, but I'll be okay. Uncle Ed…and Bella…they take care of me and…I'll be okay. Happy Thanksgiving, Mommy and Daddy." She looks up, her eyes shiny with unshed tears, but a peaceful smile on her beautiful face.

"Happy Thanksgiving, Everyone."

A/N: Thoughts?

Twitter: PattyRosa817

Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.

AND…

If anyone is interested in a little background about Latinella's Thanksgiving menu, here it is:

Sofrito is a Latin base that is used to season almost everything from meats to rices to beans.

Mojo is a sauce that's used both as a dipping sauce and a dressing to season plenty of dishes such as meats and fish. It consists of garlic, fresh orange juice, lime juice, olive oil and seasonings.

Arroz con gandules is yellow rice mixed with pigeon peas. You can add olives, sausage or ham or pork to it, peppers, olives, and other stuff I'm probably forgetting.

Chorizo is a Spanish style sausage with a bit of a kick to it.

Coquito is a Puerto Rican version of eggnog, made with eggs, fresh cinnamon and cinnamon sticks, evaporated milk, condensed milk, and coconut cream. And while it is really good on its own the way Angie ended up making it, with Rum in it, it is absolutely heaven.

Pasteles are a Puerto Rican staple at any holiday table. They are sort of like a Mexican tamale. They are made with root vegetables and tubers, which have to be peeled, cooked, mashed and mixed with a bunch of other ingredients. They are super time consuming to make; it's usually an all-day project between a team of women. So the more entrepreneur-minded make large batches over the holidays and then sell them by the dozen to those of us who don't have the time or patience. :)

And now I'm hungry for Thanksgiving, LOL. :)