A Fremont jewelry store’s surveillance cameras recorded chaos as more than a dozen thieves smashed open glass display cases, rapidly ransacked the entire store, and bolted into getaway cars. Watch: kron4.com/news/bay-area/watc…

Every family has that one Thanksgiving dish that no one else would understand. For my family, it is The Mold. The Mold was discovered somewhere in the depths of a 1950s cookbook or clipped out of the newspaper by my grandmother - my 4'8" little firecracker Mimi, the glue that held my family together. The Mold is an unholy blend of lemon Jell-O, cream cheese and grated lemon rind that MUST be served in a Bundt pan. It tastes like a lemon creamsicle, which is fantastic, but it has the texture of congealed snot mixed with wood shavings. It is unequivocally a dessert, but it does not get relegated to the dessert table with the mere pies - it is served in a place of honor next to the turkey like some deranged albino cranberry sauce. I am the only person in my family who doesn't like it, but I eat it, because Mimi expected everyone to love The Mold, and you don't disappoint Mimi. We lost Mimi in 2021, and holidays haven't been the same since. I never told her that I don't like The Mold. My sister took over the sacred duty of making The Mold, and today her daughter - my 4 year old niece - learned how to make it. A third generation of Mold makers has arisen. The location of Thanksgiving dinner has changed, the attendees vary, other side dishes come and go, but The Mold remains unchanged. Tomorrow I will take my obligatory piece and place it next to my turkey, and as the lemon Jell-O mingles with the sage I will eat it and think of Mimi. Maybe I'll even learn to love it. Miss you, Mimi. I hope you're having The Mold in Heaven. ❤️

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