The Thanksgiving dinner of my fantasies always begins with me wearing a string of pearls and freshly pressed apron, holding aloft a beautifully bronzed roasted turkey, glistening and golden from the oven in all its glory for all to see. My adoring family members’ faces are lit by flickering candlelight and they are hungry and beaming and admiring the gorgeous bird. I cut into the bird and it is succulent and juicy and perfect. All of the side dishes have come out of the oven at just the right time. The vegetables are colorful. Everything looks like a spread in Bon Appétit.  Can you just see it? Isn’t it beautiful? Insert needle-scratch on a record…this is what Thanksgiving really looks like: I have bags under my eyes because I’ve been cooking non-stop for two days. The turkey, does come out of the oven beautiful and bronzed, however upon carving, I realize the breast meat is perfect and the dark meat hasn’t cooked thoroughly–thank you, weirdly calibrated convection setting. I’ve forgotten about the rolls in the oven …