Sweet Cheese Ball

Thanksgiving. Twenty-one people in Denise's house, which seats twelve if you're generous and optimistic, which this family has always been. Robert set up two folding tables in the living room and covered them with tablecloths Denise ironed that morning, and I put a candle in the center of each one because a table without a candle is just furniture.

The turkey was right. I know it was right because I have been making Thanksgiving turkey since 1982 and my hands know things my brain has forgotten. Golden skin, meat so moist it didn't need gravy, though it got gravy anyway because that's the law. The dressing was Hattie Pearl's recipe — cornbread crumbled with celery and onion and sage, moistened with turkey broth, baked until the top is crispy and the inside is soft as a pillow. The macaroni and cheese was mine — four cheeses, a custard base, baked until it sets with that golden crust on top that the children fight over and the adults pretend not to want. Collard greens, sweet potatoes with brown sugar and pecans, cranberry sauce from a can sliced into perfect circles because that is correct and I will die on this hill.

Patricia and Wayne made it. Darnell and Keisha brought Wayne Jr., who is three and a half and told me my house was "big," which it is not — it is Denise's house and it is regular-sized — but I thanked him because compliments from small children are the most honest kind. Earl Jr. and Carolyn sat in the living room and Earl Jr. looked so much like his father that I had to go to the kitchen for a minute and stand by the stove with my hand on the counter until the feeling passed. It doesn't pass. It just changes shape.

I said grace. I kept it short because the food was getting cold and God understands priorities. I thanked Him for the hands that cooked and the people who came and the ones who couldn't — Jasmine and Simone in Marietta, Brittany and the twins in Orlando, Alexis wherever she is. I thanked Him for Clarence, gone since February, whose chair we didn't set but whose name I said out loud so he'd know he was here.

Michael sat in a high chair and ate sweet potatoes with both fists. He had it in his hair, his ears, places sweet potatoes should not go. Kayla said, "He's a mess." I said, "He's perfect." Same thing, baby.

Now go on and feed somebody.

The small monthly grandchild-visits rotate through the small school-year. Earl Jr.’s family comes the small first weekend of the month. Patricia’s family comes the small second weekend. Denise and Kayla drop by the small most-weekends. The small fourth weekend Dorothy has to herself. The small four-week-rotation has held since 2019.

The small seven grandchildren live in the small scatter across the small Southeast. Earl Jr. (the small oldest son) is in Atlanta working for UPS. Patricia (the small daughter) is in Jacksonville with her small husband and three small kids. Michael (the middle son) had been killed in 1998 in the small I-16 accident outside Macon at age 27; his small daughter Kayla had been raised by Dot and Earl and is now a small nurse at Memorial Hospital. Denise (the small youngest daughter) is in Savannah ten minutes away and checks on Dot daily.

The small Southern-cooking tradition is the small kitchen-identity. The small fried chicken on the small Sunday. The small collard greens with the small smoked ham hock cooked low and slow for three hours. The small cornbread baked in the small cast-iron skillet that had been Hattie Pearl’s (Dot’s mother’s) and her mother’s before that. The small biscuits-and-gravy. The small recipes that have been in the family since the small 1920s.

Before the turkey ever hit the table, before the dressing came out of the oven and the mac and cheese started pulling that golden crust, I always put something out for the hands that couldn’t stop reaching — the little ones, the ones who’d driven four hours and needed something to do while they waited, the ones standing in the kitchen asking if they could help when what they really meant was can I taste something. A sweet cheese ball set out with crackers says yes, come on in, we’re glad you’re here — and on a day when I was saying Clarence’s name out loud so he’d know he wasn’t forgotten, every small welcome mattered.

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Chill Time: 1 hour | Total Time: 1 hour 15 minutes | Servings: 14

Ingredients

2 packages (8 oz each) cream cheese, softened
1/2 cup powdered sugar
2 tablespoons packed brown sugar
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
3/4 cup mini chocolate chips, divided
1/2 cup finely chopped pecans
Graham crackers, vanilla wafers, or gingersnaps for serving

Instructions

Beat the base. In a large bowl, beat the softened cream cheese with a hand mixer on medium speed until smooth and fluffy, about 2 minutes. Add the powdered sugar, brown sugar, vanilla, and cinnamon and beat until fully combined and creamy.
Fold in chips. Stir in 1/2 cup of the mini chocolate chips by hand with a spatula. Reserve the remaining 1/4 cup for the coating.
Shape and chill. Lay a large sheet of plastic wrap on the counter. Scoop the mixture onto the center and use the plastic wrap to shape it into a ball. Twist the ends closed and refrigerate for at least 1 hour, or up to overnight, until firm enough to hold its shape.
Prepare the coating. On a shallow plate or rimmed baking sheet, combine the chopped pecans and the remaining 1/4 cup mini chocolate chips. Spread into an even layer.
Coat the ball. Unwrap the chilled cheese ball and roll it firmly in the pecan and chocolate chip mixture, pressing gently so the coating adheres on all sides. Re-shape into a round ball as needed.
Serve. Place on a serving plate surrounded by graham crackers, vanilla wafers, or gingersnaps. If making ahead, cover loosely and refrigerate up to 2 days before serving.

Nutrition (per serving)

Sweet Cheese Ball — Something Sweet to Set Out Before the Feast