Southern families and their food

Margaret Hudson Kilgore lives in Sharpsburg with her husband Gordon Kilgore (aka Mr. Wanderlust) and two furbabies, Miss Lulu Bichon and Miss Mia Maltese. Margaret can be reached at [email protected].

About this time every year during the 1940s and 1950s, when I was a child, my family was abuzz with plans for the Duncan family reunion.

My mother was a Duncan, and all the Duncan clan lived in and around Fairburn. There was my Great-Grandma and Grandpa Duncan along with their five sons, three daughters and their families.

The Duncan reunion was always held at Welcome All Park, which was then a part of College Park but is now South Fulton.

Welcome All Park had a pavilion where the Duncan women placed their special dishes. It was a feast for the eyes and nose, as well as the mouth. "Did you get a piece of Aunt Floreid’s sweet potato pie? You'd better hurry up or it will be gone."

Aunt Lillis always brought her chicken and dressing casserole, which was not to be missed, and there was enough fried chicken and potato salad to feed an army should one come marching by.

What was never there was broccoli or brussel sprouts. I don't even remember seeing them in stores or on anybody's dinner table back then. When did those two culprits sneak into the food supply?

After dinner, the children ran to play on the playground equipment, you know those dangerous slides, swings, monkey bars, see-saw and push-with-your-foot merry-go-round. I don't remember anyone ever getting hurt.

Most of the satiated adults waddled up to the clubhouse where there was a piano. The Duncans were a musical bunch, and whoever sat down on the piano bench first would start playing familiar church and gospel songs.

Many of the Duncan men belonged to local gospel quartets. Four-part harmony soon filled the air with others joining in. No need for any kind of songbook. These songs had been played and sung over and over so many times in our lives that they were forever etched into our souls.

I really miss those gatherings with family members, including some folks we didn't see except at reunion time. Seems like the only place for any kind of family reunion these days is at the funeral home. Still, Southern traditions dictate there will be some delicious vittles after the funeral brought in by friends, neighbors and church folks.

The tradition of taking food to the family of the deceased started many years ago in the rural South when neighbors knew that people from all around would be coming to pay their respects to the family of the deceased.

Being rural, one could not run down to the grocery store and pick up a rotisserie chicken, a container of potato salad and an apple pie. Instead, neighbors’ kitchens were busy baking and fixing a variety of food to take to the bereaved family.

That practice is still done out of tradition instead of need. I do not know if this tradition is adhered to in other parts of the U.S., but it is here in God’s country.

The South is changing, along with the rest of the world. But there are still some things about the South that never seem to change.

Southerners still deep fry a lot of food, and they may throw in an extra measure of butter in everything.

We Southerners like our hot sauce and pepper sauce for our “greens.”

We don’t like skimpy servings either. I remember being at the Morrisons cafeteria on Virginia Avenue when the server put a serving of sweet potato souffle on Mr. Wanderlust’s plate, then she started taking some off. “WAIT! Don’t take it off, put it back on,” he told her.

My face was red.

However, some mom-and-pop restaurants that serve up Southern fare put enough on a plate to take home for another meal the next day.

Southern cooking is part of our lifestyle.

We cook everything well done and then some.

We fry when possible.

We don’t measure; Southern cookin’ is done by taste and not by a book.

We like to cook in iron skillets.

Biscuits and/or cornbread are part of every meal.

We cook in large quantities in case company drops by.

We save leftovers for another day.

We always ask the blessing before we eat.

So, if you are not from the South, come on down and let us show you what Southern hospitality is like as we devour some fried chicken and a glass of cold sweet tea. You'll think that you died and went to heaven.

Margaret Hudson Kilgore lives in Sharpsburg with her husband Gordon Kilgore (aka Mr. Wanderlust) and two furbabies, Miss Lulu Bichon and Miss Mia Maltese. Margaret can be reached at [email protected].