Jackson Free Press

Holiday dinners with my family, particularly on my father's side, have always been interesting. For the past 15 years or so, our Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners have consisted of the same meal, which my stepmother, Jan, and I prepare. Before that, when my Granny and Great Aunt Daise were cooking, we had different holiday traditions.

The first part of the old-school tradition was the trek from the Gulf Coast to the Delta. (I think I'm still fascinated with kudzu, but I can only say so because I have none in my own yard.) The holiday meals always consisted of a Butterball turkey, cornbread dressing, mashed potatoes, little green peas from the silver can, broccoli casserole, black olives, cranberry sauce with ridges intact and rolls—all lovingly cooked by my Granny and her sister. Other than the heat of my grandparents' little house, which always hovered in the upper 80s no matter the time of year, the other constant was the conversation.

My Papaw would begin each holiday meal with a toast saying how this would be the last year we would all be together. Granny would then start in on how dry the turkey tasted, which caused the rest of us to assure her that, no, it was tender and juicy—regardless if it was or not. After the turkey was mentioned, Papaw would bring up how superior Butterball turkeys were. At some point in the meal everyone would praise my great aunt's broccoli casserole. When I got to college and changed my eating habits, the final comment was always, "Aren't you going to have some turkey?"

About 15 years ago the traditions began to change. My grandmother became confined to a wheelchair, so Jan took over the turkey and dressing. My great aunt had been retired from kitchen duty earlier when she made salmon croquettes using Cream of Wheat—uncooked, crunchy Cream of Wheat. (Unfortunately, we never did get her broccoli recipe; we have since been unable to replicate it. All Jan knows is that sometimes it had mayonnaise in it.) My job became the mashed potatoes, and I added another veggie I love: sweet potatoes.

This recipe for sweet potato casserole is not as sweet as a typical recipe. It has no marshmallows or pecans; instead, it gets its flavor from orange juice and zest and spices. Even though we eat sweet potatoes at least once or twice a week, it is now a mandatory item on our holiday table. I only make them this way for special occasions, though. And every year, my father brings up the one year I tried to cook the potatoes differently—I admit that it was the only time I've known a sweet potato to be absolutely tasteless.

My Granny, however, always refused to eat my casserole. She said that the quarter cup of sugar used in the recipe was too much for her since she had diabetes. I understand that diabetes is a serious medical condition, so I would have accepted that explanation if it came from someone else, but not Granny. Right after she would say it, she would scarf up a large helping of the syrup-drenched casserole brought over by her neighbor. She simply used her diabetes as an excuse not to try things she didn't think she'd like.

Now, there are only four of us for the holidays. We've switched to a turkey breast, and there is no broccoli, but the rest of the food is the same. I make sure the house is at a nice cool temperature, but we still talk about dry turkey, just for old times' sake.

"NOT TOO SWEET" SWEET POTATO CASSEROLE

3-4 large sweet potatoes, peeled and cubed
1/4 cup packed brown sugar
1/4 cup orange juice
1/4 cup softened butter
The zest of 1 - 2 oranges
2 beaten eggs
A couple of dashes of cinnamon and nutmeg
A generous pinch of ground ginger
Salt and pepper to taste

Boil sweet potatoes until tender; drain and mash. Add remaining ingredients and mix well. Pour into
a casserole dish and bake at 350 degrees for about 45 minutes.