We were just wrapping up a celebratory family meal (please don’t ask which one; I haven’t the foggiest notion, given the time of year and the prevalence of celebratory meals), when my 15-year-old grandson Wilson stretched his lanky frame in the manner that indicates a satisfaction with the food and a fullness from overindulging, and asked “Mona, (that’s what all the grandchildren call me . . . because my first name is Lisa . . . so, Mona Lisa . . .) “when do I get a copy of the Thomas Cookbook?”
Me: I’m sorry . . . What?
Wilson: The Thomas Cookbook. When do I get a copy?
Me: There . . . isn’t . . . one . . .?
At which point a look that combined shock, amazement, and dismay washed over his face.
That very brief conversation set me to thinking. There are so many dishes from my childhood that I’d love to experience again. And I don’t even know what they’re called. How do I search for a recipe when all I can remember is it had Bing cherries in it? Or canned fruit with a sauce of vanilla pudding and rum (I’m sure there were other ingredients, but whatever it was, it was great over pound cake)? And then there was the meat thingy my mother baked in the oven that had wine in the sauce, and you served it over wide egg noodles. Beef Burgundy maybe? I’ve tried googling that, but none of the recipes even begin to look right.
But you know what? If I start now, I might be able to prevent my children from suffering the same fate, at least for the traditions we’ve created. I made the mistake of mentioning an idea that was fuzzily forming in my noggin’ and my daughter-in-law immediately requested that the Veggie Beef Soup recipe be included (that’s a me original) and Wilson added my from-scratch pancakes to the list. And that’s when I made my one and only New Year’s resolution.
Side note: Did you know that most people give up on their New Year’s resolutions? As a matter of fact, it occurs so frequently and with such predictability, there’s a day set aside for it. Quitter’s Day. Look it up. Usually by the second Friday of the year, resolution abandonment has occurred. For those not close to a calendar, that’s January 10th this year.
That’s why I’m setting something more manageable. Nothing earth-shattering or life changing. I’ve learned those goals usually end in failure and frustration. Instead, I’m gonna create a family cookbook. Something we can add to in the coming years. That way, they don’t have to wonder how I made the New Year’s Day Mac and Cheese. Of course, they may not want to know how I made the New Year’s Day Mac and Cheese. If that’s the case, then they’ll know what to avoid.
The Veggie Beef Soup and pancakes will be included, as will Pink Fluff and Golden Potato Casserole. Oh, and the chocolate cake I made this Christmas with the chocolate cream cheese frosting . . . and the banana pudding. And boiled custard. And Cora Mae’s rolls. And definitely ALL the cookie recipes. And Joe’s grandmother’s hot fruit casserole, a treasure I found in her handwriting on a small sheet of notebook paper, tucked into an old cookbook that was once hers. That one will be placed in the copier instead of typed on the computer.
So today, as a means of holding myself accountable, I am proclaiming my intention to type up at least one recipe per week (more when Life permits) to be included in the Thomas Family Cookbook. And hopefully, by Christmas of 2025, there’ll be copies for everyone (yes, Wilson, even you). After all, these are the foods that, over the years, have graced our tables for everyday meals and special occasions. They shouldn’t be lost to Time—especially when it’s around those tables that memories are made.
About the author: Lisa Shackelford Thomas is a fourth-generation member of a family that’s been in funeral service since 1926 and has worked with Shackelford Funeral Directors in Savannah, Tennessee for over 45 years. Any opinions expressed here are hers and hers alone and may or may not reflect the opinions of other Shackelford family members or staff.
