A few years ago, my stepmom shared with us kids my grandmother’s handwritten menu for Thanksgiving. Growing up, we would get together, and all this food would just appear. No matter if we were eating at Granny and Granddaddy’s or one of my aunts’ houses, counters would be covered with turkey, ham, side dishes, pies, and cakes. I specifically remember eating so much one year that all I could do was lay on the floor and try not to move.
It was heaven!
Yet, until I saw the menu, I didn’t realize how much Granny had planned out or how much cooking she did every year. Turkey and ham (because why pick one?). Cornbread dressing. Mac and cheese. Green beans and potatoes. Sweet potatoes. Pea salad. Plus five cakes and seven pies. She had a lot of people to feed, and you wouldn’t want anyone to go hungry.
However, no matter what was offered, the most important item on her entire menu was the dressing. She could have cooked nothing but dressing, and I would have been happy. Say what you want about turkey versus ham. Or which side dishes are the most important, because nothing’s better than mac and cheese or green bean casserole just like they served on the first Thanksgiving.
For me, the only thing that mattered—the foundation of Thanksgiving—was Granny’s chicken and dressing. Not celebrating that first Thanksgiving between the Pilgrims and the Indigenous tribes (whichever version you choose to believe). Not sitting down to watch the Dallas Cowboys play their annual Turkey Day game (and I’m talking the older, good Cowboys). Not even the opportunity to get together with family and friends. I’m talking about Granny’s chicken and dressing.
Of course, if you’re from the North, this may not make any sense to you, with your weird penchant for stuffing and the odd items you choose to cram into a turkey. Stuffing with oysters. Stuffing with mozzarella and pepperoni. Stuffing with cranberries and walnuts. I’m not sure anything is out of bounds.
Which made my first Thanksgiving with James’s family a new experience. Bread stuffing? What’s that about? Who makes stuffing? Oh, that’s right—they’re from Montana. To say I went into dinner with a degree of skepticism would be putting it lightly, especially when they actually stuffed it into the turkey. I kept trying to imagine cornbread dressing inside a turkey, and I wasn’t coming up with any good images.
Much to my surprise, the stuffing was quite tasty. Bless James’s mom for keeping it simple with some onion, celery, and sausage. (I still can’t get my head around who would add oysters.) And thank heaven I get to have more than one Thanksgiving (three this year!) because I know I will still get my chicken and dressing fix, even with Granny no longer being with us. Her recipe will carry on through the grandkids, which probably makes her the real foundation of our Thanksgiving.
But the dressing sure comes in a close second!
