What happens when you combine a dad and his daughter in a small kitchen for Thanksgiving? Mix with an attitude of, “I’m the better cook” and a pinch of family rivalry and you have a recipe for drama!
(But it’s all in fun and makes for good memories!)
Wednesday morning, our family drove twelve hours to my parents’ home in rural Mississippi. (Whenever I spell Mississippi, I want to break out into the crooked letter, humpback version.)

Thursday morning I began the process of getting our Thanksgiving meal ready. My mother is unable to cook due to health issues, although she did direct my dad on how to make the cornbread dressing before we arrived. I was a little disappointed because I thought I would be under her tutelage for that delicious dish. She makes the best!

My dad is funny.
When we arrived late Wednesday night, the first thing he said when we walked in the door was, “Are y’all hungry. I have a brisket.”
There was no, “You made it!” or “How was the traffic?” or even “Hello!”
He shows his love by feeding you.
He loved on us for 4 days!

Marshmallows
As I was adding the praline topping to the sweet potatoe souffle, he suggested I put marshmallows on top.

Me: “Well, I guess I could do half and half. Get me the marshmallows.”
Dad: “Oh, I don’t have any.”

Bacon
My daughter eats gluten free and vegetarian. My Dad planted a garden this year and had put up vegetables in their freezer. I took out some butter beans to prepare them “vegetarian style” as a side dish for my daughter. I told Dad that I didn’t use bacon drippings or pork fat to season them for her.

Me: “I just use olive oil and onion.”
Dad: “Oh, well why don’t you just cut it down to one piece of bacon?”

Pancakes
Friday night I told my son that I would fix pancakes for him the next morning. So first thing Saturday morning, I put on an apron and get the ingredients out for buttermilk pancakes.

“Who wants pancakes?” I ask.
Dad: “I’ll eat some.”
As I am pouring the buttermilk into the flour, he walks into the kitchen and says, “I just use water.”
Me: “I’m not using a mix. I make them from scratch.”
Dad: “Well, that batter’s too thick. The best pancake mix is that kind that starts with a ‘k’.”
Me: “Krusteaz. But I don’t like to use mixes.”

Dad searches around the kitchen and finds his pancake mix. And we both stand at the counter preparing separate pancake batter having our own brand of Throwdown, because it wouldn’t be Thanksgiving without some competition in the kitchen.
And while we use a couple of tablespoons of syrup for our pancakes, Dad likes his “swimming in syrup.”
He actually says this everytime he eats pancakes. “I like mine swimming in syrup.”
And I usually say,“That’s too much sugar. Won’t that run your sugar up?” He’s diabetic!
When I saw his plate, I almost took a picture. The pancakes weren’t just swimming. They were drowning. At least he included a life jacket for them in the way of a hunk of butter on top.

And that’s what happens when you combine a dad and his daughter in a small kitchen at Thanksgiving. 
Serve warm with LOVE.

~my daughter and my dad reading cookbooks~

My Buttermilk Pancakes
1 1/2 cups flour (I use self-rising.)
2 T sugar
1 large egg beaten
1 1/3 cups buttermilk
1/2 stick melted butter

For how to make Perfect Pancakes, go here.

So, spill the beans…any drama in your kitchen at Thanksgiving? Anything funny happen?