In preparation for the feasting tomorrow I am re-posting my favorite Thanksgiving tradition, my grand-mother, Doris’, cornbread dressing. I am thankful every day to have the memories of sitting in her restaurant kitchen in Fayetteville, AR making big hotel pans of this with her for the Farmer’s Daughter holiday meals.
Cheers to family, tradition and being with the ones you love.
My grandmother Doris was a character. I called her DoDo until I was about 16 years old, when I realized it wasn’t nice for a child to call her grandmother DoDo…though it was always her family name. We lived with my grandparents growing up, moving from our beach house in Manhattan Beach, California to Fayetteville, Arkansas when DoDo and Pop (Doris and my grandpa Clem) retired from Houston and Mom and Dad divorced. Needless to say, the move was a bit traumatic, as I was a beach loving little girl who didn’t really understand what this place called “the Ozarks” was all about, and mom put us immediately into private school with a class of 14 students all of which were Catholic. In California it was a no brainer that a child should go to private school, in Arkansas, it just meant that math and English were replaced with hours…
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