The Time Out Plate Swap: What Thanksgiving tastes like across the U.S.

No Thanksgiving in my family is complete without a casserole dish overflowing with Sweet Spaghetti—a bacon-studded, brown sugar-sweetened Midwestern riff on the Filipino dish of the same name. Cloaked in a tangerine-hued sauce made from doctored-up Campbell’s tomato soup, this baked pasta dish is far from a culinary masterstroke—but nothing feels more Midwestern. It’s familiar, comforting, a little too bad for you, and no one—least of all your family—could be bothered to care.—Shannon Shreibak, Things To Do Editor, Time Out Chicago

Our Thanksgiving dinner usually turns into a Persian feast: a table filled with the delicious dishes my mom grew up eating in Iran—and that we still enjoy almost weekly during our Shabbat dinners. On Thanksgiving, though, there are no limits. The entire culinary canon my mom was raised on makes an appearance, but nothing stands out quite like ghabeli, a rice-and-carrot dish that always wins over our non-Persian guests (that’s how I know it’s really good).

Ghabeli is made with basmati rice, chunks of beef or lamb (though my mom makes it with chicken for her always-on-a-diet audience), julienned carrots, raisins and sometimes almonds or pistachios (although I actually prefer it without either). As simple as the ingredients sound, it’s the spices that make the dish extraordinary: cumin, cardamom and cinnamon, mostly. And one more thing: ghabeli doesn’t just taste incredible, it looks like a work of art!—Anna Rahmanan, Senior National News Editor, USA

One of the best things about growing up in the Midwest is being surrounded by farms with amazing produce. I found that a lot of our family meals centered on ingredients like corn, blueberries, cherries, apples and, my personal favorite, rhubarb. November is the exact opposite of rhubarb season but that never stopped us from having rhubarb pie with vanilla ice cream for dessert on Thanksgiving. Whip up your own pie to share with your loved ones this season and I promise you won't be disappointed. (Just promise me you won't add strawberry to it, which is an abomination.)—Will Gleason, Content Director, Americas

The one dish I look forward to every Thanksgiving in Los Angeles isn't even on the official menu. It’s my mother's rendition of turkey lugaw, or Filipino-style rice porridge, which she makes by simmering together homemade giblet gravy, freshly sliced ginger, leftover turkey (bones and all), and plenty of white rice. Seasoned with salt, pepper and yes, a bit of MSG, it’s the perfect nourishing dish to end a long day of feasting.—Kelly Yeo, Food & Drink Editor, Time Out Los Angeles

Growing up, my Southern-food-loving aunt presided over the Thanksgiving table—the first person to instill in me a rare love for green bean casserole, the undisputed star of my holiday plate. You’d never guess most of the ingredients came from a can, nor did I care, as I went in for seconds (and thirds) of tender beans swimming in Campbell’s mushroom soup. On top: a crispy blanket of French’s fried onions to crown the pantry-born delicacy. My husband’s tried to chef it up in the years since, but nothing compares to the classic recipe—the kind you can find printed right on the side of the can, should you ever need reminding.—Virginia Gil, Editor, Time Out USA

A typical Midwestern Thanksgiving spread usually comprises some variation of the classics: turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, green beans and pumpkin pie. But one thing’s for sure—you’re bound to find a sweet potato casserole on any given Thanksgiving table in Chicago. Whether it’s candied with marshmallows, glazed with maple syrup or topped with pecans, it’s a Midwest staple that’s sure to garner compliments every time.—Lauren Brocato, Food & Drink Editor, Time Out Chicago

In the meat-and-potatoes town where I grew up, we take potatoes seriously. Sure, most Thanksgiving tables include some variation of potatoes—mashed, whipped, sweet, scalloped, baked, you name it. But for Pittsburghers, it's gotta be cheesy potatoes. Variation is welcome—some recipes feature Corn Flakes on top, while fancier folks opt for a sprinkling of fresh chives—but the fundamental elements of finely diced, hash brown-style potatoes and plenty of cheddar cheese are key. Pro-tip: Use your dinner roll to swipe up any remaining bits of that cheesy, saucy goodness before putting your plate in the dishwasher.—Rossilynne Skena Culgan, Things To Do Editor, Time Out New York

I may be from Los Angeles, but there’s no avocado toast or other uniquely “L.A.” dish on our Thanksgiving table come November. My dad does all the holiday cooking, and he’s from the Midwest, so our Turkey Day dinner each year is about as traditional—and delicious—as it comes. The most unique dish of the spread actually has its origins in New York—the Waldorf Astoria hotel, to be exact. Waldorf Salad—a head-scratching mixture of grapes, walnuts, diced apples, and celery that, through some alchemy, is greater than the sum of its parts—was first concocted in the hotel back in the 1890s. Fast-forward to today, and it’s a staple of Thanksgiving dinner in my family’s household—though my dad adds a Midwestern spin with tangy-sweet Miracle Whip instead of mayo and, the best part, mini marshmallows.—Gillian Glover, Things To Do Editor, Time Out Los Angeles

I wouldn't necessarily say that Mac and Cheese is specific to Washington, D.C., as our nation's capital is as diverse as they come. But seeing as how the city once affectionately carried the moniker, "Chocolate City," Washington, D.C., remains a home base for Black Americans. And for my Black household, a spot at the table was always reserved for this soulful dish. You see, Mac and Cheese is much more than a side, but rather a measure of your cooking skills, often relegated to one lucky soul who has proven themselves worthy. It all needs to start with a good roux, the right mix and amount of cheese (which teeters on the edge of ungodly) and a solid bake in the oven to give it that telltale golden crust. Do it right, and you may just be given the glory of being asked to cook it again next year.—Morgan Carter, Food & Drink Editor, Time Out New York

My family was always really into the origin of our Thanksgiving turkey—but not in the pasture provenance way that you’re probably thinking. I grew up on Long Island, where paying it forward among family was expected and food was among the preferred currencies to do so. For years, my brother worked at a golf club (one of dozens that dot the Island), and he was gifted a country club–sized turkey that we’d roast each Thanksgiving. Even before then, it always seemed like how we cooked the bird was secondary to where we procured it, whether from the poultry farm storefront my grandparents frequented or the local butcher where my dad kept a running tab.—Michael Juliano, Editor, Los Angeles & Western USA