Happy Thanksgiving from a Dixie Kitchen

There is a certain indescribable peace in the kitchen at four o’clock in the morning of Thanksgiving.  The smell of fresh brewed coffee intermixed with the past three days of preparatory work for my “big day” fills the air.  In the stillness of that pre-dawn moment, I watch as kitchen lights turn on.  It is as if the women in town are giving each other a lighthouse signal to one another.  There is a sense of feminine bonding and maternal community at this moment, while our families remain asleep.  This feast is the height of our love for them.

Generally, I begin cooking the Sunday prior for the biggest feast of the year.  Throughout the week, the countertops and extra tables slowly become staging grounds for pies, cakes, and a variety of chopped herbs and vegetables.  Eventually, despite a rather large kitchen, space becomes a precious commodity.

My parents usually arrive the Saturday before my husband’s favorite holiday.  Upon their arrival, my husband is in the other room watching the Georgia Bulldogs win while my father grabs a seat near him.  Both are giving coaching advice to the Dawgs through the television.  My mother, who is a bit older now, will make a few dishes that my father insists are made best by her, but for the most part, she sits at a table nearby and we discuss whatever topic comes to mind. 

By Wednesday, the older children begin to arrive.  The home becomes exciting and I immediately remember when they were little, stealing cookies or running under foot.  There was a time when I did not know whether to kiss their faces or shoo them with a broom – perhaps a little of both.  I still want to kiss their faces, but they are too cool for that now.

I play Christmas music beginning this time of year and I do not turn it off.  Thanksgiving is the kick-off to my favorite time of the year.  My eldest daughters offer to help and I give them some tasks, but I am a solo chef on Thanksgiving.  I want them to learn all that is needed to know for their families someday.  All year long, I teach them our family recipes.  Traditions are important, but as it pertains to Thanksgiving, I am not yet ready to surrender the spatula.

I imagine I will be very sad if ever there is a time that my boys stay home with their wives for Thanksgiving, but that is the way of life.  Mamas eventually endure those moments.  For now, I will not think about that inevitable future.  Rather, I will prep their favorite dishes and listen to them laughing in the background.

My cookbook is an old address book.  It is littered with various recipes from the family with personal notes scribbled – Add extra sugar… Tablespoon of rosemary… 325 not 350… My Alabama grandma’s buttermilk pie… Nana’s German chocolate cake… My mother-in-law’s Irish soda bread… Mac & Cheese… Sausage Cornbread Dressing… The book is organized in a manner that makes it easy for me to read, which means that it is highly unlikely it can be deciphered by anyone else.  I know most of these recipes by heart, but I still reference them, nonetheless. 

Every year my husband and I “argue” as to the timing of Christmas decorations.  The argument is really a mild protest on his part.  I begin slowly decorating for Christmas as of November 1^st against his objections.  By Thanksgiving, we just need a tree.  The Christmas lights look beautiful in these moments of morning solitude.

Thanksgiving is a beautiful tradition, established in the Virginia colony in 1619, well before those Yankee pilgrims arrived with their silly hats.  It is a time to thank God for the abundance of a new world to which He brought our people and graced us with the gifts of this continent.  I love this holiday and I am truly thankful for God’s unending love.

I am blessed to have a family for whom I can cook.  I am blessed to have a home within which to cook and host this meal.  I am blessed with a loving husband, loving parents, and loving children.  I am blessed beyond measure.

Right now, I am blessed to have this little alone time.  In a few hours, there will be family and friends milling about.  The television will have football in the background.  Nieces, nephews, and grandchildren will venture into my kitchen.  The women will gather around and discuss whatever is going on within their lives.  The men will sit in front of the television, occasionally interrupted by a call to take the garbage out to the bin.  The home will be loud and lively while I remain focused in my element.

As I write this, my apron is clean, my hair is still neatly in a bun, and my make-up has not yet failed.  My outfit is perfect for the occasion.  By the time I am done, however, I know I will be a little more disheveled and my apron will have earned her place in our home.

The meal itself will be served at about three o’clock in the afternoon.  Ham, smoked brisket, deviled eggs, mashed potatoes, corn, green bean casserole, cranberry sauce, sweet potato casserole, macaroni and cheese, dressing, and of course, turkey, along with various other sides and breads will be served.  Plates will be filled and refilled.  A meal that takes four days to prepare will be done in about an hour. Watching everyone enjoy the food I cooked is a pleasure that is hard to describe.  It is a woman’s joy to have her husband pull her by her hips and get a kiss from a grateful husband.

The clean-up seems anticlimactic, but that is not the case, at all.  I will sit back and enjoy a glass of wine while the family scrambles to get the dishes cleaned up.  I earned that glass of wine and a slice of pecan pie.  It will taste lovely while my feet rest.  Meanwhile, I will be surrounded by my family and that is really what this is all about.  Thanking God for every gift, especially them.

Y’all have a blessed Thanksgiving!

-By Mrs. Dixie O’Hara