October 2, 2026
The difference between a northern cook and a southern one is often revealed at the holidays.
I married a man from the South. He was living in Kentucky at the time but he had roots in Georgia and Florida. He came from a place of black-eyed peas, savory ham, and cornbread dressing, where a “pig tail in the beans” quite literally meant the tail of a pig in the beans. (I know because I fished it out once at a family reunion.)
I grew up in a community called Jerry Bottom, and, while that may sound southern, we, I have since realized, were not southerners.
Around 1990, our little family began the tradition of going South at Thanksgiving. My mother-in-law, Carol, born in Enigma, Ga., had returned to the U.S. after living in Germany. She landed in Madison, Alabama and planted good roots. She met and married her soulmate, Charles Bradley. They both worked at Hughes Hardware and made their home on James Madison Drive.
The day before the holiday, we packed the car and kids, making the 8-hour trip one way. My beloved and I also loaded up on No Doze to stay awake. No matter the time, his mom always waited up for us.
The smells when we arrived there in the middle of the night seeped all the way into our bone marrow. (We still talk about it.) The ham was already baking and always ginormous. It looked like she had just cut the legs off the pig. We could almost taste the pineapple she had lovingly placed all over it.
My northern family always ate at 2 p.m. sharp. On Thanksgiving, Jesus’ birthday, Easter, baptisms, or other occasions, we ate promptly at 2. My mother cooked the turkey through the night. We were people of bread dressing. The only cranberry sauce I knew growing up came out of a can and was sliced on the lines.
In Alabama, on Thanksgiving, we ate at 6 p.m. My mother-in-law taught me to savor the day with a finale of turkey and dressing in the evening. Throughout the day, and in no rush, we prepared everything we needed for the meal. There were so many delicious treats we enjoyed at her house. Her cranberry sauce was a yummy mix of berries, celery, and nuts. Somehow in her tiny oven, she was able to squeeze in the ham, a turkey, plus cornbread dressing baked in a cast iron skillet. She made tasty dishes and talked of things being “duh un” from time to time. (In the South, the word “done” is broken into two syllables.) It was contagious. I was saying it by the time we got back home.
Carol Bradley was Thanksgiving personified. The smell of celery and onions cooking immediately takes me to her place, standing in the middle of her tiny kitchen.
The Bible is a delicious feast I hope you are enjoying on a daily basis. This morning while pondering the Thanksgiving holiday, I came across this tasty morsel: “Let them give thanks to the LORD for His unfailing love and His wonderful deeds for men, for He satisfies the thirsty and fills the hungry with good things,” Psalm 107:8-9. If there’s a verse that speaks specifically about Thanksgiving dinner, that’s it. Thanksgiving is definitely a time when the thirsty are satisfied and the hungry are filled. To the brim, and a little running over.
Whether you’re from the North or South, you’ll likely be stirring up casseroles and stories during the holiday. As your lives and cultures mingle with the fragrances of the day, laughter, and people we love or tolerate-around the table, make and enjoy all the memories you can.
May your thirst be filled with sweet or unsweetened tea and hunger be filled with cornbread dressing and cranberry sauce.
___
Dawn Reed is a pastor's wife and newspaper columnist. Reach her at preacherswife7@yahoo.com.
Share with others
