At my house, everybody used to help. But it seems it may be that way around the world. It is almost as much of a tradition as the meal itself. After hours of fussing in the kitchen and an equal amount of feasting, laughing, and dessert-eating we all seemed to bond again around getting the remains cleaned up. The table had been so full; there was barely room for our plates. A dish for everything and everything delicious. But with all...
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