By subscribing, you agree to share your email address with us and Mailchimp to receive our marketing, updates and other emails. Use the unsubscribe link in these emails to opt out at any time.

By clicking Submit, you agree to share your email address with the site owner and Mailchimp to receive marketing, updates, and other emails from the site owner. Use the unsubscribe link in these emails to opt out at any time.

Journalists newspapers and downtown Atlanta

Hyperlocal news and information in the Atlanta metro area

Pumpkin pie or pecans? Oyster stuffing cooked in the bird or cornbread sauce baked in a pan? Kale or sauerkraut? Choose one side. The holidays are coming, and it's time to prepare for our annual family food battle. 

Holidays bring families together, share simple joys and create eternal memories. But once Thanksgiving, Christmas or New Year’s Eve really arrives, the food on the table can determine the success or failure of the holiday party. Turkey, ham, turducken or tofurky may be grilled, grilled or fried, but making grandma’s sweet potato casserole (with those crunchy little marshmallows on top) just right or preparing Aunt Mimi’s vegetables with muffins can make everything change. It's different in how this meal is eaten. 

We asked regular contributors for senior living in Atlanta about some of their own holiday food memories. After all, they are a bit like our little magazine series, so we want to see what holiday memories are hidden in the cabinet. Some people shared a warm and vague story. Others recalled holiday-defined diet surprises, confrontations with strange new foods, cooking accidents or hardcore kitchen competitions.

Enjoy them as you prepare your own family feast.

Stuffing season (myself)

My late wife’s family always eats a lot on Thanksgiving and Christmas. My late mother-in-law, Miss Carolyn (aka "Meemommie") is always "stay and busy". (Translate it to "Big and responsible." In her real "Propuh Suhthun" pronunciation, R is very rare.)

Everything in the southern style covers the holiday table: turkey, ham, sauces, gravy, sweet potato souffle, various vegetables, certain kinds of vegetables, and desserts from G Daddy's licorice to Aunt Mamie's chocolate pie. Together with Meemommie's biscuits, made with a secret recipe, we are talking about a family feast. 

We usually have 12 people, sometimes more. The children’s table is in the kitchen, reserved for young people and immature adults. When we were told that "dinnuh" would be at noon, everyone knew that it would actually arrive near 1:30 or 1:30 in the afternoon. Of course, there is always happy chaos, children running around, and occasionally puppies try to steal samples.  

With seasonings and gravy, most diners like offal (another term for offal), but usually some people have to eat offal. Soufflés need to be restricted: one cannot eat marshmallows, and the other cannot eat pecans.

After eating a lot of food, we were almost full and the rest of the day was useless. We will move to the family room to watch football. If the weather is cold, a fire will start in the fireplace. The most difficult thing is to stay awake to get rid of the food coma we just caused to ourselves.  

I must admit that when I think back to those days, I am a bit lost. Many people’s memories are no longer with us, but good memories still exist. "Fix me, saw through peppuh."

How does a Hungarian chef repair kale? 

In the 1950s and 1960s, when we celebrated holidays in a small Ohio town, we knew what each other's friends and family would do and eat. We are all proud of our background, but I am most proud of my family because our grandparents are Hungarians. 

We kindly forgive the habits of other people ("My dear, she can't help it, she is Italian"), but we are smug (but always humble!) convinced that anything in Hungary is the best. On New Year's Day, our good luck meal is always roast pork on sauerkraut, sprinkled with brown sugar, and topped with rye bread. So when I moved to Atlanta, I was shocked to find that there were only a few pieces of roast pork and dusty tinned sauerkraut in the supermarket. 

But I married a southern boy, and he ordered black eyed peas, kale and cornbread...so, well, I tried it. 

I bought a large bunch-shrubs? ——Kale. On New Year's morning, I stood sleepily by the sink and started to clean the green-until a real, living grasshopper jumped out.

I hate grasshoppers just like Indiana Jones hates snakes 

I threw the green out the door. 

For decades, my husband has taken the collar out of the can every year.

I would say that last year was a breakthrough, because Publix has three washes and shreds (I mean three washes?) bags of kale, I boil them with some broth and ham, most of them are edible.

A battle of brothers about oysters

My brother and I have been very competitive since we were young. He is 10 years younger than me, so his competitive spirit is sharpened by my stimulation and brother's abuse. 

As we grew older, we shared our love for food, especially Thanksgiving dinner. But the dress is different. My brother likes traditional condiments without too many additional ingredients. I like most of the same things better, just add oysters, which was introduced to me by the father of a girlfriend in high school. 

Our disagreement turned into an annual competition to see what clothes my mother would wear for each Thanksgiving. She firmly believes that she can only make one; she doesn't care which kind it is, but just one kind.

We decided to hold an annual competition to determine who’s favorite dress will add luster to the table. We challenge each other in sports such as wiffle balls, throwing footballs into a 50-gallon trash can from 50 yards, dice, golf, putting, bowling, and almost anything we can think of.

Our last game was held at my house on a cold afternoon in November. The game is cornhole. In that game, you throw a beanbag into a hole in the inclined board. We played three rounds, finished the arguing about the rules and came to an end. My corn hole game was very good that day, and I broke the tie with a few well-positioned shots. It should be an oyster.

On Thanksgiving Day, we gather like most families and compare children, work, politics to start arguments, and anything else. I gave myself a healthy dose of oyster sauce and passed the bowl. 

"No, thank you," my brother said. "I want to eat mung bean casserole."

Early the next morning, our wife went to Crazy Black Friday. My brother and I went out to play a round of golf. After the end, we put the cue into the car and said goodbye. 

He told me that he had a gift for me. He handed me an envelope and left with a smile. I got into the car and opened the envelope. Inside was a can of Rocky Mountain oysters in wrinkled plastic wrapping paper and a note: "Your move." 

The Wisdom of Saints: Grannies fight for holiday dress

My grandmother has very different recipes for making holiday dresses. And, yes, it's cornbread sauce baked in a pan, not stuffed into a bird-it's disgusting. If you think Stove Top is a suitable alternative, please delete me from your phone and social media.

My grandmother, nicknamed Moom Moom, made a very traditional cornbread sauce, starting with a pot of buttermilk cornbread. She added chicken broth, eggs, onions, salt, pepper, butter, and some shredded sunny white bread to help "put them together." The result is always a perfect brown top and a super wet interior about two or three inches thick.

My grandmother, Grandma Kelly, followed a similar recipe, but added two ingredients that I couldn’t accept: sage and celery. The way to ruin a pot of good seasoning! If the celery is chopped very finely, I can bear it, but the sage just overwhelms the mixture.

Every year when the family gathers for a holiday meal, there is always a debate about wearing a saint and not wearing a saint. Some family members insist that sage is an essential ingredient, while others-like me-think they are crazy.

Over the years, Moom Moom's dress has become people's favorite, especially after Grandma Kelly uses sage to become more free, which seems to be out of malice. Even saint lovers started to drift towards Moom Moom's pan-so much so that she eventually had to do two.

When asked about her family’s preference for Moom Moom’s clothes, Grandma Kelly would suck her dentures and cleverly said: "People like what they like." But I have found more than once when she thinks no one is watching. She threw a large piece of Moom Moom dressing.

When my mother stopped eating turkey on Thanksgiving in our hometown in Johns Island, South Carolina, when I was about 10 years old, she declared that we would use chicken instead. She never gave a real reason, but I'm pretty sure I know why.

First of all, some background: Mom and I have the same stomach problems, some call it "weakness of the stomach". My daddy, the three brothers and sisters seemed unmoved. As we all know, people with this disease often suffer from stomach upset when they see disgusting things such as mice, cockroaches, blood, and worms. Even just mentioning them can make us lose our appetite.

My uncle Bubba may have contributed to her ban on turkey. A few weeks before Thanksgiving, my mother's brother Bubba and his wife visited this house. 

It was a pleasant day and we all sat on the front porch. When my uncle interrupted me and said that he had read a funny story about Turkey Day in the tabloid, women were sipping iced tea and talking about what to eat for the holidays. A disgruntled cafe chef in Texas, in order to retaliate his boss for deducting his salary, he recalled secretly replacing turkey with roasted vultures and serving them to unsuspecting Thanksgiving diners. -This causes them to gag when taking a bite. They wanted to arrest the chef, but he fled to the city and no one had seen him again.

"They ate a dangerous vulture," my uncle said with a smile. "But vultures and turkeys are really alike." But mother, her stomach was uncomfortable, and her face seemed a little pale. "Baba," she said, "let's talk about something else."

It may end here, but a few days later my mother drove me, my sister and one of our cousins ​​to church. Then, in front, we saw a large black object beside the two-lane road in the country. "Vulture," I said. 

Mom slowed down. As we approached, the heavy vulture lifted itself from the food on the side of the road. "They look like turkeys and are getting fat for Thanksgiving," our cousin joked.

Mom was obviously upset. "It's not good, son," she said. 

But shortly after that, my mother announced that she would roast one or two fat hens and eat it on Thanksgiving. She said she didn't like turkey anymore. I applaud her decision. That's it.

By the way, I overcame my aversion to turkey many years ago. I especially like smoked turkey.

Macaroni and Cheese Baking for the Millennium

At my family’s Texas Thanksgiving party, something truly unforgettable is sure to happen. A few years ago, the major event was the millennial macaroni and cheese baking, which was the first time in our family.

When my son and two nieces told my mother that they wanted to make the macaroni and cheese dishes traditionally served in our holiday meals, the whole thing was boiling. Thanks to more chefs and more leftovers, she said yes to each of them. 

One of the chefs suggested that they compete to see whose family likes macaroni and cheese the most. The two of us — my mother and I — knew immediately that we did not vote. As my mother said: "They are all my grandsons!"

The chefs started to source their signature ingredients-a biscuit bucket of cheddar cheese in a variety of flavors for my niece, and heavy cream for my son. The battle began.

My niece followed the recipe of her other grandmother, which called for mixing the ingredients in a casserole dish. My son believed in making cheese sauce, and when the disaster happened, it was almost complete.

In order to make room on the stove filled with pots of kale and boiled gravy innards, my mother accidentally knocked over the stewed cheese sauce pot and threw everything on the stove, the brown turkey in the oven And on the floor.

Is the game over like this? no way! After a thorough cleaning, my son said that he was “actually begging” his cousin for some of her ingredients. She "decided to be kind" and shared. 

When finished, they put a hot sample of coriander on a small plate labeled A or B. Both options are delicious. Several people voted, and my niece won unanimously and peacefully. There is no request for a recount. No fraud claims. 

Later that night, I couldn't help telling my brother that if I was forced to vote, I would choose my son's macaroni and cheese because it tasted a bit spicy. To my surprise, he said his daughter's should be the winner because it is creamy and consistency is the key. 

We know it is better to abandon this before it develops further.

Compliments to cranberries from the can

There are two kinds of people in the world, one is who likes canned cranberry sauce, and the other is wrong. 

think about it. You will spend at least 30 minutes preparing each dish on the Thanksgiving table. There are two instructions for canned cranberry sauce: 1) remove from the can; 2) serve. You are done in less than a minute. 

Do you really need to spend another 29 minutes to make homemade cranberry sauce? That's the time you can spend with your grandchildren or prepare for the Black Friday sale.

Besides, why mess up to perfection? If you insist on being fancy, buy canned cranberry sauce with whole berries in it. I have a painful memory since I was a child when my mother put a cranberry jelly mold in front of me on Thanksgiving Day. I still think I haven't forgiven her yet.

At the table full of delicious choices, let your sweet tooth lovers enjoy the rich flavor of canned cranberry sauce. Yes, it contains a lot of sugar, but technically speaking, your family ate at least one serving of fruit when they fell asleep on the sofa. Without some sour and juicy cranberry sauce, you can't finish the rest of Thanksgiving dry sandwiches.

Here’s how badly homemade cranberry sauce wants to be canned cranberry sauce: You can buy a ceramic plate for freshly made cranberry sauce and shape it into the shape of canned cranberry sauce.

Don't be fooled by the annual slander against canned cranberry sauce. It will only lead you astray, and eventually you will wash more dishes.

An icy turkey day, dinner means frozen pork chops

On a turkey festival in the early 1990s, my wife, two daughters, and I planned to drive from our home in Dallas, Texas to my brother-in-law’s in San Antonio for Thanksgiving dinner and weekend visits.

I have heard of the freezing rain forecast, but I didn't pay much attention to it, because several similar forecasts have failed recently. Just as I passed the Texas Stadium (where the Dallas Cowboys Thanksgiving game was going on), sleet started and turned into freezing rain. I was skidding on a frozen area. This doesn't look great.

We barely ran two miles to the interstate (after almost colliding with another car) to conclude that it would be reckless to go further. Sliding back to the house, there was nothing like Thanksgiving dinner on hand, we defrosted some pork chops, and then started the football game.

Then the power went out. Fortunately, the ribs are finished. Reluctantly, but done. We opened several cans of cold, sticky vegetables, and while eating our food, young people asked questions ("Why don't we go to Uncle Mike's house?" "Why don't we have turkey?")

Fortunately, the lights returned after a few hours. At that time, the indoor temperature dropped to more than 50 degrees. We could only curl up in the blankets, praying that the pipes would not freeze.

It was clear at dawn the next day, and we thought this meant that there would be some melting on the road. Checking the travel conditions, it seems that if we can drive 40 to 50 miles south, the ice will disappear. After several hours of low-speed driving and occasional tailing, we reached the dry road and activated the afterburner. The family did get the turkey repaired, but it was a day late. Yes, we are grateful for that.

"Pork chop, the ultimate Thanksgiving meal" became a family joke. Since then, they have not appeared on the holiday menu—any holiday menu.

The real taste of the holidays? Homemade cookies

My favorite food memory from childhood is baking Christmas cookies with my mother. We spend a few hours, sometimes a few days, in a small kitchen in the 70s style. My mother does not only make one kind of biscuits, but about a dozen. Everything started from scratch. Some people may say this is too much, but for me, this is how you do it.

We will launch sugar cookies and cut them into various festive shapes, from snowmen to Christmas bells to angels. Sometimes, we paint them with colored egg liquids to make them look dazzling. I would spend a few hours carefully painting with jelly frosting, sprinkling frosting strategically, and sprinkling peerless gold in my work (which looked very strange in the 1980s). 

Mom always makes more delicate biscuits, including crescent-shaped pecan sand, which are perfectly shaped like a waning moon and topped with powdered sugar. My favorite (until today) is jam fingerprints, these soft butter cookies covered with crushed walnuts and a spoonful of berry jelly.

At the end of this marathon, our pantry was filled with tins of biscuits.

It was not until my later years that I realized what kind of work it was. In a certain year in my 20s, I had a brilliant idea to give everyone in my life a jar of delicious biscuits. I can make about 10 kinds. I only need two dozen per person. I will do it like my mother used to. simple.

I spent three days in that kitchen, ten hours a day relaxing. Because I can't do it well enough, it must be the perfect cookie. I need the latest and greatest cookie decoration. Golden cookie spray? Yes. Sprinkles shaped like Christmas trees and candy canes? How could I not have those? Can I make simple cookies? no way. One is a dark chocolate cake with a caramel center, topped with chocolate, which is perfectly jagged. This is a three-step process. 

To this day, I cannot make a simple dessert at all. Want pumpkin pie on Thanksgiving? Okay, but it will be decorated with hand-cut pie crust and sprinkled with cinnamon to look like autumn leaves. Do I need a plate of biscuits for a festive feast? Okay, but I'd better take a few days off. 

Every holiday, we will continue to hold impressive dessert displays. Mom made not just one pie for Thanksgiving, it was more like six pecans, pumpkins, apples, lemon meringue, and anything else that caught her eye back then. Of course, each of us has our own tin of Christmas biscuits filled with peanut brittle, fudge, jam fingerprints, pecan sand, etc. 

It will always be my favorite gift.

Joewell is a contributing editor. He has more than 30 years of working experience in daily newspapers, including the Atlanta Journal Constitution, and is the executive editor of The Journalist. More works by Joe Earle