The Missing Ink
Let me start this heartfelt holiday column by saying something offensive.
Thanksgiving dinner?
Meh.
Don’t get me wrong, prior to the Thanksgiving feast, I spend countless hours lovingly prepping our bird — brining it over night, then smoking it until it’s a deep orange hunk of profound dripping perfection.
I have no problem shamelessly mackin’ on that bird with my favorite (and not so favorite) relati…
