We got through Thanksgiving at niece T's house without trauma, not that we were necessarily expecting any. As is gradually becoming the case, especially with more relatives moving out of town, there were more of T's friends (and their families) present than ours. Which, among other things, meant more destinations for leftovers so we didn't have to take any. T's mom did try to press on us some of her pumpkin muffins, but we declined, B. for trying to resist indulgence and me because I don't care for pumpkin.
I brought a heaping quantity of steamed broccoli seasoned with the salt-free spice mix I bought at Pike Place Market earlier this month. It was all taken so it must have been a success. The hostess's Beef Wellington (an alternative to the turkey which we also had) was much tenderer than last year and also very rare.
Reminder to footnote a discussion with my brother, who was also there, about Beef Wellington by checking on whether it was named for the Duke of Wellington. According to Wikipedia, nobody knows. Wikipedia does cite someone who claims that it had nothing to do with the Duke but was invented for a dinner in 1815 in Wellington, New Zealand; but 1) Wellington, New Zealand, was itself named for the Duke; 2) 1815 was the year of Waterloo and thus an excellent occasion to honor the Duke with a dinner; 3) the little wrinkle that the city of Wellington wasn't founded and named until 25 years later.
However, continuing the conversation, I confirmed that, as I thought, the Salisbury steak was not named for the Marquess of Salisbury.
Visit was further enlivened by the three Kittens of Intense Cuteness that T. is currently fostering. They clambered all over us, which our cats won't do. They've been named Bronx, Brooklyn, and ... no, not Staten Island, as I thought, but Soho. In which case the other two should have been Greenwich Village and Battery. Unlikely as they are ever to come near any of these places.