No matchy matchy plates for our Thanksgiving brunch

My in-laws lived in an old camp house in the hills near Devil’s Den when my husband and I were young. For Thanksgiving we’d leave school at Fresno State to go there for the finest feast you could imagine.

My mother-in-law got up in the middle of the night to put on the turkey for slow cooking. She had all the cold food in her little butane-run refrigerator and she had Jell-o molds in beautiful creations. Without electricity she had to do everything by hand, even beating the meringue to a fare-thee-well. When the food was ready, never later than 10:30 a.m., we sat down for turkey brunch. It was mouth watering to smell.

She had collected plates over the years at rummage stores. Every plate was different and every one was pretty. She apologized to me, “They don’t match.”

When I told her I loved the idea, she started giving me mismatched plates for Christmas. Yes, 50 years later, I still use them for holidays: I never apologize.

This story was originally published November 22, 2017 at 2:47 PM with the headline "No matchy matchy plates for our Thanksgiving brunch."