By Thanksgiving prep has begun, and Denise's kitchen is mine now. She knows this. Robert knows this. The cat knows this. From now until Thursday, nobody touches that stove without my permission, and permission is granted based on skill, attitude, and whether you washed your hands, in that order.
Monday I made the cornbread for the dressing. You have to make it ahead — a day or two at least — so it goes stale enough to crumble right. Fresh cornbread in dressing is a sin I will not commit. I baked two big pans in Hattie Pearl's skillet, golden on top and crispy on the bottom, and I set them on the counter uncovered to dry. Denise tried to wrap them in foil. I said, "Denise Marie, if you put foil on that cornbread I will leave this house and you will explain to everyone at Thanksgiving why there is no dressing." She put the foil down. She is a good daughter. She just needs reminding.
Tuesday I brined the turkey. Twenty-pound bird, salt and sugar and bay leaves and peppercorns and enough water to fill the cooler Robert keeps in the garage. The turkey sat in that brine like a man in a bathtub — large and undignified and getting better by the hour. I checked on it Wednesday morning and it smelled right, that clean salt smell that tells you the meat is going to be juicy and you can stop worrying.
Earl Jr. called to say he and Carolyn are driving down Wednesday evening. He asked what he could bring. I said, "Yourself, your wife, and your appetite. The rest is handled." He said, "You always say that." I said, "And I am always right." Jasmine is not coming — Simone is only five weeks old and the drive from Marietta with a newborn and a twelve-year-old is more than anyone should attempt. I understand. I am disappointed, but I understand, and I will send her a plate through Earl Jr. that will travel in the cooler and arrive with instructions written in Sharpie on the lid.
Kayla is bringing Devon and Michael on Thursday. She asked if she could bring a dish. I said, "Bring the baby and your husband. I've got the food." She said, "Granny, you're seventy-one. Let someone help." I said, "I'm seventy-one. That means I've been doing this for sixty-one years and I am not about to let someone come in at the last minute and confuse my kitchen." She laughed. She'll bring rolls. I'll allow it.
Now go on and feed somebody.
The small First African Baptist Church congregation continues to be the small social-and-spiritual home. The small Wednesday-night-prayer-meeting. The small Sunday-morning-service. The small choir Dorothy has sung in for thirty-two years. The small church-cookouts where Dorothy’s small contributions are the small expected-presence.
Earl passed in 2019 on Valentine’s Day. The small widow-life is in its small seventh year now. The small house in the small Thunderbolt-neighborhood of Savannah near the marsh continues to be the small Dorothy-residence. The small house is the small place Earl maintained and where Earl built the small raised-bed-garden. The small kitchen is the small heart of the small house.
The small thirty-five years at the small Hodge Elementary School cafeteria are the small career-spine of Dorothy’s life. The small lunch-lady role had been the small everyday-presence for the small generation of Savannah kids. The small retirement in 2020 had been the small adjustment-period after the small thirty-five-year-tenure. The small Sunday-spread-at-the-Thunderbolt-house for the small grandkids is the small post-retirement-rhythm.
Once that turkey comes out of the brine Thursday morning, it has all the salt it needs — what it wants next is flavor, and that is where this seasoning mix earns its keep. I mix up a batch at the start of every holiday week and keep it in a jar by the stove so I can reach for it without thinking: it goes on the bird before it roasts, into the dressing with the crumbled cornbread, and on anything else that needs a little help finding itself. No salt, because the brine already handled that, and because half the people at my table are watching their sodium and I would like them to be able to eat freely and not spend Thanksgiving doing arithmetic.
Salt-Free Seasoning Mix
Prep Time: 5 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 5 minutes | Servings: About 24 (1-teaspoon servings)
Ingredients
- 2 tablespoons garlic powder
- 2 tablespoons onion powder
- 2 tablespoons smoked paprika
- 1 tablespoon dried thyme
- 1 tablespoon dried oregano
- 1 tablespoon dried parsley
- 1 tablespoon ground black pepper
- 1 teaspoon celery seed
- 1 teaspoon ground cumin
- 1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper (or more, to taste)
- 1/2 teaspoon dried sage
Instructions
- Measure and combine. Add all spices and dried herbs to a small bowl. Stir thoroughly until the blend is uniform in color and no single spice is visibly clumped.
- Taste and adjust. Rub a small pinch between your fingers and taste. If you want more warmth, add a little more cayenne. If you want more earthiness for poultry, add an extra pinch of sage or thyme. This is your blend — make it yours.
- Store properly. Transfer the finished mix to a clean, airtight glass jar. Label it with the date. Store in a cool, dry place away from the stove’s heat. Use within six months for best potency, though it will last longer.
- Use as needed. Apply generously to turkey, chicken, roasted vegetables, or stir into cornbread dressing. Because there is no salt, you can season liberally without worrying about oversalting — then add salt separately at the table or to individual servings as needed.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 8 | Protein: 0g | Fat: 0g | Carbs: 2g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 2mg