Okay, the "Annual Progressive Lunch" (Could we have made that phrase any blander and non-offensive? And I'm still trying to figure out what's progressive about it.) is occurring in two weeks at work. Rules of the game: Each member of staff is requested to bring a meal course representative of their family's holiday traditions. Additional rule, everyone in my wing of the building is supposed to bring an entree. Okay, in a nutshell, I'm screwed. As you've seen from the list from Thanksgiving, there is nothing unique about my family's holiday entrees, we were assimilated into the game early and often. What originality is left stays strictly in the side dish and leftovers. (Tonight's my third night of turkey mole pablano, though last night was my mother's scalloped turkey). The only traditional stuff I can even reasonably think about making is mince, and frankly, when you've got co-workers who come from India, Pakistan, China, Japan, Chile, France, Hungary, Russia, and Thailand, ain't nobody gonna go nuts for a big helping of boiled ground beef and mashed potatoes. (I like it, but I'm not going to inflict it on non-blood relations.) Now that I think about it, I seem to spend most of my cooking time running away from my family's entrees, and my mother does too. So I'm stuck. Maybe I can pickle a chicken...(No, Dwight, that would only further the stereotype.)