Velveeta green bean casserole is loaded with crispy bacon, tender green beans, and a rich, creamy cheese sauce. Topped with golden fried onions, this easy twist on the classic is a delicious addition to a holiday dinner table. #velveeta# via @bakeitwithlove

Loaded baked cauliflower casserole pairs roasted cauliflower with crispy bacon, cheddar, and a rich, creamy sauce. It’s an easy low-carb side that stays creamy, cheesy, and never watery. #cauliflower# #lowcarb# #casserole# #sidedishes# via @bakeitwithlove

Wondering what to do with all that extra holiday turkey? 🦃 Check out this ultimate collection of Leftover Turkey Recipes featuring cozy soups, creamy casseroles, pot pies, and zesty carnitas! via @bakeitwithlove

Chapter 23.1: The Third Chair An FBI agent counts three chairs at a bench in the empty Basalt lab. Payroll says two people worked there, and the third name on the filing resolves to nothing. "You brought a casserole to a manhunt." "It was a gift."

USA. A church lunch. Megan put a heavy glass dish in my hands. On the rim, a strip of tape. My name, in marker, the way a soldier is labeled before a river crossing. “You bring it back,” she said. “Empty is fine. Missing is a crime.” I carried the dish like a relic. People praised a yellow food I did not cook. I bowed each time, which made the dish more famous than it deserved. Three days later the empty dish was on my porch. There was a note. YOUR TURN. I sat with the note until the sun moved. In my country a returned bowl is the end of a kindness. Here a returned bowl is a loaded weapon. Someone must fill it. I called Megan. “What do I make?” “Whatever,” she said. “If it sloshes, put foil on it. If it sloshes after the foil, you are family.” I made too much. This also seemed to be the law. I wrote my name on fresh tape, larger, in case the dish got lost and needed to find its way home like a horse. At the next lunch a woman I did not know said, “You’re the casserole guy.” I had been renamed again. I accepted it. The dish had done the introducing. So tell me, America. When you send a man his own empty armor and write YOUR TURN — is that hospitality, or conscription? And the tape with the name. Is it so the glass comes home, or so the person cannot hide? Your turn.