The Season of Feeding the People We Love

Heading into Thanksgiving week always feels like a giant timer starts ticking in my kitchen. I shift into the season of cooking for my family, neighbors, and anyone who’s woven into the rhythm of my life. Every year, I say I’m going to do less, and every year the season opens the same way: with someone I love asking for their favorite holiday dish.

Our family shares recipes. We don’t believe in taking recipes to the grave. We believe in improving them and getting them out to the world. 

Amber made her first batch of High Class Chex Mix this weekend, and Jennifer and I are already hunting for the 2025 “hit appetizer” friends will ask for repeatedly. Alison and I are plotting the Chex Mix strategy. We are, unapologetically, a family of foodies.

Stocking Up: The Start of the Season

I started grocery delivery during COVID, and now I use it when the list gets overwhelming. I still laugh when the bags arrive, and when I realize what I forgot or the store didn’t have, it becomes an Amazon order. This week, Christie texted, “Did you remember the Bugles?” Back to Amazon. 

Holiday cooking is my quiet way of saying thank you to the people who keep our community running.

Every November, I swear I’m cutting back. Every year, my brother looks at me like I’ve told him Christmas is canceled. “Why would you stop now? You’re still strong.” Translation: *Do not stop making the coconut cakes and strawberry shortcake. 

Thanksgiving is our favorite holiday – a time to slow down, appreciate our people, and enjoy good food without the pressure that the other holidays seem to bring. 

The List That Only Grows

This year’s lineup is ambitious, even for me: High Class Chex Mix, strawberry and peach jam made from peak-season fruit, ten coconut cakes, possibly twelve if my brother keeps adding names to his list, and the strawberry shortcake my family treats as my price of admission.

A couple of years ago, my great-niece Riley discovered the shortcake, and now she checks my arrival like TSA screening a carry-on. If it’s not in the bag, there are questions.

Later comes fudge, divinity, fig preserves, and a new experiment: fig, bacon, and caramelized onion preserve.

Cooking as Legacy, Not a Chore

When I was at the height of my career, I didn’t have time to cook. I bought Fresh Market’s corn casserole, cut it to fit my serving dish, baked it, and breezed in like I’d made it from scratch. Jennifer begged for the recipe. I made her swear not to tell anyone and then confessed it was store-bought. She told the entire family. 

I say I hate the work, but that’s only half true. The cooking is an effort. The memories are the reward. Most of what we do in the kitchen goes unnoticed in the moment, but it’s remembered for a lifetime.

The Real Reason We Keep Showing Up in the Kitchen

That coconut cake recipe? It’s my grandmother’s. Now her great-great-grandchildren are enjoying it. Food keeps our history alive. It links children who never met their great-great-grandmother to the woman who stood in her kitchen, mixing that same batter. They taste her love without ever knowing her name.

Some families make ravioli together. Some roll tamales. Some try fried turkey. Some pull out the dented biscuit cutters their grandmother used.

These rituals survive not because we have endless energy, but because someone keeps showing up.

The Legacy You’re Leaving

If you collapse into the sofa next week, remember this: someone younger is watching. They’re learning the stories, shortcuts, flavors, and rituals that carry your family forward.

They may not know it yet, but one day they will understand what it took to keep these traditions alive.

And when they do, they’ll remember you.

What food traditions are you preparing for the holidays this year?

What recipes are you most often asked to share?