Thanksgiving has always been one of my favorite holidays, and food has a lot to do with that. The dishes I grew up with—not fancy, not complicated, but full of memory—still shape the way I celebrate today. Even though my mom passed away in 2007, her imprint on the holidays is unmistakable. I know everyone thinks their mom made the best dressing or mashed potatoes or turkey. But I’m sorry, you’re all wrong. My mother’s recipes were better… 😉
At the top of the menu were her mashed potatoes. She boiled every potato by hand, mashed them with the strength of ten men, and added butter with the confidence of someone who did not consult a doctor first. Rich, creamy, a little dangerous—they were perfect.
Then came her dressing, a recipe handed down from my grandmother. Cornbread, lightly stale white bread, Hungry Jack biscuits, sautéed onions and celery, a few beaten eggs, plenty of broth, and the mysterious blend of “just enough seasoning.” It wasn’t stuffing. It was magic. No holiday meal in our house was complete without it, and nothing else tastes quite the same.
Over the years, other dishes joined the lineup. My now ex-wife introduced a sweet potato casserole that was basically dessert in disguise—delicious, yes, but sugary enough to cause my endocrinologist to slap the plate out of my hands. In contrast, Daryl’s squash casserole is the picture of balance: fresh squash, a generous amount of sour cream, and the comfort of something homemade. I’m sure we’ll be bringing a large helping of it to my sister-in-law’s house.
My own contribution has always been whole cranberry sauce—so easy and so superior to slicing a gelatinous red hockey puck from a can. Cranberries don’t grow inside aluminum tubes. They grow on bushes. And they deserve better. Just cranberries, sugar, water, maybe a little orange zest, and if you want to go full adult, a splash of Grand Marnier like my stepmother adds. Done.
And then, the star of the show: the turkey. Mom always cooked a great bird, but I’m pretty sure I’ve finally outdone her. Years ago, I took the advice of Atlanta radio host Kim Peterson, who suggested basting the turkey with white wine—one glug for the turkey, one glug for the cook, repeat until both are thoroughly marinated. He promised the turkey would be brown and crispy on the outside and so juicy that it would actually squirt when carved. He wasn’t wrong. That turkey practically needed a splash guard.
These days, though, I’ve moved on to brining. As I write this, my turkey has been soaking for more than two days, infused with fresh basil from the little garden on my balcony. On Thanksgiving morning, I’ll smoke it on my Traeger for a few hours, then finish it in a roasting pan—still on the Traeger—basting with Walmart white wine and reserving a glug or two for myself. Tradition.
But this year means even more to me, because Lizzi, little Sully, and Talon are here for Thanksgiving. Getting to make these dishes with them around—passing along Mom’s recipes more directly—feels like a gift I don’t take lightly. Holidays change, families grow, traditions evolve, but the heart of it stays the same.
If your mother is still with you, give her an extra hug and tell her how much her cooking means to you. I’d give anything to do that again. And if your family has special dishes of your own, I’d love to hear about them. I hope your holiday is filled with good food, good memories, and people you love.
Copyright © 2025 Doug DeBolt.
