When I first sat down at my keyboard in 2013 to write a post for my blog, “Some Kinda Good” — a platform that would later inspire my memoir with recipes — I was simply trying to put into words what the family dinner table meant to me. I wrote about the clinking of iced tea glasses, the warmth of home-cooked meals, and the easy rhythm of conversation with the people I love most.

Today, both Mama and Grandma have gone home to be with the Lord. Looking back at those words now, I realize something profound: Back then, gathered around that table in the quiet comfort of ordinary days, we didn't know it, but we had it all.

While the faces at the head of the table may change over time, the table itself endures across generations. It remains a sacred harbor where love is passed down through recipes, where traditions are kept alive, and where the spirits of those we cherish continue to pull up a chair every time we gather.

As we enter this season of togetherness, I am honored to share that original piece with you. May it remind you to hold close the moments, the memories and the people around your own table.

Table talk and family ties

We all know the saying, “If these walls could talk,” but if my family’s kitchen table could speak — boy, could it tell some stories. I’m fortunate enough to have been raised eating around the family table, and every day I’m thankful my parents made it a priority. In homes across the world, the kitchen table, much like the front porch, is an iconic, central hub, especially in the American South.

Formal dining rooms are different.

I’m talking about the table in our eat-in kitchens — the one from which we cook just steps away, where we stack our bills at the end of the day, where kids complete their homework, where the family pet begs for a taste of human food.

When I think about the people in my family who’ve sat around that same oak, oval-shaped table year after year — even the loved ones who are no longer with us — and all the abundant food that’s been presented there, along with the memories it holds, the conversations it keeps and the prayers it's heard, I consider that togetherness a real blessing. Those moments are what make a house a home.

Around the kitchen table, we’ve celebrated birthday after birthday, eaten holiday meals, opened Mother’s Day cards and decorated Christmas cookies. It’s there every time I visit home. Like an old friend, it’s the one constant that’s part of the family, too, ready to welcome us, inviting us to sit for a spell and stay a while. There, I eat my mom’s homemade chocolate chip muffin with one candle for breakfast each year and introduce new friends to the family. It’s the ultimate place boyfriends are bring-home-to-Mama-and-Daddy tested. We set it with our everyday dishes and fine china. We adorn it with fresh flowers and fruit. We hold hands around it and bow our heads at it to pray.

Without it, home would not be the same.

Sure, I’m one to curl up on the couch with a bowl of cereal now and then in front of my TV, but nothing beats sitting down to a home-cooked meal and a place set just for you, to share good food with the people you know, and who know you and where you came from.

So much of my life has taken place at the family table. Often, it’s the memories associated with that central element that have created the values and traditions I cherish today. I am a firm believer in the popular phrase, “The fondest memories are made gathered around the table.”