By Phyllis Story Strider
Christmas Eve any year at Mamma and Daddy’s house in Mt. Gilead was always a hectic experience. As family started to arrive, each bringing their own assigned dishes of food, the aromas would fill the kitchen. The turkey was done and ready to be carved by my Daddy and placed on the platter. Nobody has ever been able to carve a turkey like my Daddy. The dressing, moist and golden with celery and sage, came out of the oven. Someone would cut a small piece to taste and everybody came running to sample, too. Mamma’s dressing was and is the best part of the meal. Of course, I had the rich brown gravy under control. She filled it with turkey bits salvaged while Daddy was carving the turkey. Dressing wouldn’t be the same without gravy. Then there was Mamma’s home-canned green beans and her frozen corn that got turned into cream-style corn. Mamma knew exactly how to make it taste the best. There was very little corn left at the end of the meal. There would be candied yams, deviled eggs, cranberry salad and hot rolls. Somebody would open the cranberry sauce while Mamma got her homemade cranberry sauce from the fridge. She liked it best.
For dessert there would be Mamma’s fresh coconut cake, blackberry jam cake, persimmon pudding, pineapple sour cream cake and a pie or two. Although we would be stuffed after eating, there was always room for your favorite dessert.
Family would be scattered about the large house catching up. If it was warm the kids would be running in and out of the house. The kitchen would always have too many people hanging around talking and getting in the way or trying to help.
With the food done and the tea poured and lined up on the counter, it was finally time to eat. Someone would go from room to room and let everyone know it was time to get in the kitchen. It’s time to eat! The whole family, about 30 of us, would cram into the kitchen for the blessing. Daddy usually did the honors. Many a tear was shed (usually by my sister Pam and myself). Then it was time to fill our plates and enjoy the wonderful meal one more time.
I wish I could go back and listen to our parents’ voices once again. It was my family’s time to be together, to talk, laugh and eat. To look at each other and on this day, Christmas Eve, just be full.