Thanksgiving Traditions Full of Flavor, Family, and Southern Charm

Thanksgiving has always been more than a holiday in our family; it’s a collection of traditions, flavors, and moments that come together to create something beautiful—something that feels like home.

Growing up, Thanksgiving mornings would always start with the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. No one really sat down to watch it, but we’d catch glimpses of the massive floats and colorful characters as we moved through the house or passed by from playing football outside. The crunch of leaves underfoot is forever tied to Thanksgiving in my mind. Being in the South, our holiday weather was often warm, which meant that the kitchen was a hot, bustling space. Yet somehow, that just made it feel all the more like Thanksgiving as we crowded together in the heat.

One of our unique traditions was cooking the turkey in a smoker. Every year, it was an art trying to time the turkey with all the sides, and somehow it never lined up perfectly. My dad would start complaining if the weather was cold, claiming that it made the turkey take forever to cook. Then there was the great debate about the turkey’s “red button”—you know, the little pop-up timer. My dad would swear the turkey was done before that button ever popped up, and my brother and I would try to convince him to wait. Still, he’d often pull the turkey out, saying the button was broken, and every time we’d end up microwaving slices because, of course, it wasn’t quite done. But honestly, it wouldn’t be Thanksgiving without that little tradition.

Somehow, these small mishaps and arguments over the turkey are what make the day feel complete. There’s always a moment when my parents get into a little spat over some tiny thing, and my siblings and I try to lighten the mood, sharing quiet jokes to ease the tension. But just like that, they’re back to laughing, as if nothing ever happened. It’s these little quirks that give Thanksgiving its charm.

Our Thanksgiving table is always filled with dishes steeped in tradition. My mom’s sweet potato casserole—with a pecan topping, never marshmallows—is a recipe passed down from my grandmother, and it wouldn’t be Thanksgiving without it. Another essential is the green bean casserole, made faithfully from the recipe on the back of the French’s fried onion can. And then there’s my dad’s contribution: Cabbage Salad. This simple mix of shredded cabbage, pineapple, mayonnaise, and marshmallows has a history all of its own. It was his mother’s recipe, a piece of his family tradition brought to life each Thanksgiving. As a kid, I couldn’t stand salad and always felt a bit guilty about not liking something my dad made with so much love. Now, even though it’s still not my favorite, the salad has become special to me. It’s a way of including my dad’s mom in our meal, even though she passed away before I was born. Preparing it is like inviting her spirit to join us at the table—a reminder that family, past and present, is woven into our traditions.

Now as an adult, for my part, I’ve taken on the role of making the cornbread dressing. Your dressing in the south has to be made out of cornbread and don’t even consider calling it stuffing. Preparing it each year has become one of my own Thanksgiving traditions, something I look forward to as part of my place in our family’s Thanksgiving story. And of course, we have to mention the cranberry sauce—always straight from the can and, without fail, always forgotten in the fridge until someone remembers it right after we’ve all finished eating. It’s one of those traditions we never change, even if no one really misses it!

Circa 2017/2018

Our dessert table is a tribute to my grandmother, whose pecan pie recipe remains a staple, though none of us can quite make it as she did. We add in pecan sandies (or wedding cookies) and a pumpkin pie, along with a few extra treats to keep everyone’s sweet tooth happy.

We usually end the day outdoors, either back in the leaves, playing football, or taking turns at a game of badminton while the kids and dogs run around, enjoying the last light of the day. There’s something so timeless about that scene, the air filled with laughter, the colors of autumn all around us.Thanksgiving in our family isn’t perfect, but it’s perfectly ours. It’s a day filled with love, quirks, a little bit of chaos, and so much gratitude. And that’s exactly how I’d want it to stay.