I was 22 years old, living in Nashville as a newlywed, and I was about to host my first Thanksgiving. No pressure. I had the whole menu planned, including picking up a pre-cooked turkey from a local barbecue joint and delegating a few dishes to my in-laws. Despite the slight inner frantic feelings that I felt at the thought of hosting a major holiday in my tiny rental home, I was feeling good about the collection of recipes I’d strung together for a delicious and memorable meal.