I'm a Career Food Professional. But There's One Part of the Thanksgiving Meal I've Never Mastered-Until Now.

"A few months back, I was strolling along the Detroit River when I saw a man sitting on a bench pull a sandwich from a brown paper bag. It was, as far as sandwiches go, nondescript- seemingly just two pieces of white bread, probably welded together with peanut butter and jelly, pimento cheese, or a couple of slices of pale turkey with some mustard. Then, I watched the man bow his head over this unremarkable lunch."

"But how on earth does a person start saying grace from scratch? I'm, at best, agnostic-a former altar boy and Catholic kid who one day stumbled into a Baptist church youth group at 13 and turned Jesus Freak for a year. After hearing a preacher say, "I know a lot of good people who are still going to hell," I thought, Hmmm, maybe this is complete bullshit."

A man sat on a bench along the Detroit River, pulled a nondescript sandwich from a brown paper bag, and bowed his head in a brief blessing. The narrator envied the man's spontaneous gratitude and resolved to learn to say grace. The narrator describes a background of faith and disillusionment: a former altar boy who joined a Baptist youth group at 13, briefly became fervent, then rejected the preacher's condemnation and left organized religion. The narrator later built a career in restaurants and food writing, where food has been joy and work, and saying grace has not been part of the profession. The narrator later met funeral director Paddy Lynch, who regularly confronts grief and religion.

Read at Slate Magazine