Catherine Tillman Whalen
A New Yorker and a Mississippian settle in Baltimore — and finally put down roots on Thanksgiving
The Thanksgiving dinners of my Mississippi childhood were crowded, joyful events. Cousins ran wild both inside the house and out, while the grownups readied an almost formal sit-down feast. The location changed annually, with the role of hostess swapped between my aunt, my mother, and my paternal grandmother, but the event itself stayed largely the same. The good china and just-polished silver were placed carefully at tables throughout the house, and the sideboard was loaded with all the family favorites: my grandmother’s baked sweet potatoes topped with bronzed marshmallows, a deceptively refreshing cranberry jello salad studded with plump dark cherries and pecans (my maternal grandmother’s recipe), cornbread dressing with and without oysters, a giant roast turkey, and, of course, biscuits for days. All ages were represented, including a baby, sometimes two. Our large families grew larger every year, first boyfriends and girlfriends, then spouses, in tow; then, a new crop of infants adding to the festive commotion of the day.
When I moved far from home—to New York City initially, then on to Baltimore, where my own family would grow—Thanksgiving dinner was demoted to an obligation. In the years of three small children with no relatives in sight, the basic turkey, mashed potatoes, and green beans I set down at our little table seemed irrelevant. Sometimes, we road-tripped to the in-laws in upstate New York. As the kids got older, though they appreciated visiting their extended family, they (especially our college freshman) wanted to be home with friends. For the first time, I looked around at our gathering of five and felt wistful. Where were the boisterous cousins, the doting grandparents, the squalling, fat infants, and their proud and exhausted parents? Did we have any traditions of our own?
The next year, I set out to transform our holiday. First up, the invite list. Unfortunately, I discovered that in a very old city full of families going back generations, no one is free on Thanksgiving Day. Friday, however—traditional Friendsgiving territory—was still fair game. I reached out to our neighbor Katharine and her two daughters, who were dear to us and like family. Any chance they could join us Friday night? Yes! We’d now be eight people instead of five. I dragged out the good china with enthusiasm. Zoe, in second grade that year, joined my daughter in making turkey place cards for everyone, and just like that, our first tradition was set. The day was instantly happier and noisier and felt more like an actual holiday.
The following year, we added our daughter’s best friend and her family, whom we’d known since the girls were two years old. Sia, the mother, accepted, then added, “My mom and dad won’t be in Florida this year. Do you mind if they come?” GRANDPARENTS! “They are more than welcome,” I replied, trying to be cool. Their Greek heritage brought leg of lamb, and the almond cookies known as kourabiedes to our menu. Meredith, a neighbor and close pal whose mother would be here from North Carolina, made a pomegranate cocktail and homemade hummus. Also—surprise!—Sia’s friends from Connecticut were going to stop by as they came through town. They brought their son, along with talk of an ombré gratin (nytcookinggratin) that we would attempt the following year.
This Thanksgiving, with the addition of four international students on break from Barnard College (schoolmates of Sia’s eldest daughter), we’ll be 26. That’s how it happens. Friends on their own that day? We pull them in for an ever-changing guest list and an eclectic menu that’s always amazing. Some new traditions stick, and the occasion feels just as joyful as the Thanksgivings of my childhood. Except for one thing. Got an infant? Call me.
Gram’s Everyday Biscuits
This recipe for everyday skillet biscuits comes from my mother, Ann Tillman, who never measures her ingredients. She can turn out a batch lightning-fast—practically a requirement, as she fed six kids dinner every night—and these were often on her table. The version here captures her exact steps with one exception: I use a grater to blend in the cold butter rather than cutting it in (as she does, very quickly) with two table knives.
Ingredients:
2 cups self-rising flour
½ teaspoon baking soda
1 ¼ cups buttermilk
1 stick unsalted butter, frozen
Additional self-rising flour for rolling out biscuits
½ stick unsalted butter for the skillet
*Makes 15-18 biscuits.
Instructions:
Place a 12” cast iron skillet in the oven and preheat to 425 degrees F.
Combine flour and baking soda in a medium bowl. Roll frozen butter in the mixture, then grate butter on the large holes of a cheese grater directly into the bowl. Using a fork, toss flour lightly over butter until pieces are evenly distributed. Add buttermilk and fold in gently with a rubber spatula until just incorporated. (Dough should be light but not too sticky.) Cover your work surface liberally with additional self-rising flour, then turn the dough out and pat gently until it is ¾”-1” thick. Flour a 2 ½” biscuit cutter (or whatever size you have on hand; bite-size is nice, too) and cut out biscuits.
When the oven is preheated, add ½ stick of butter to the skillet, then return to the oven until butter is melted and sizzling. Carefully remove hot skillet to countertop. Using a metal spatula, lift biscuits out one at a time and place in the skillet, turning to coat in the butter. Fill the skillet, baking any extras on a cookie sheet. Bake until biscuits are golden brown on top, 16-18 minutes. Serve hot with honey or jam.
Author’s bio:
Catherine Tillman Whalen has more than two decades of experience writing, editing, and producing stories for food and lifestyle magazines. She holds a Grand Diplôme from Le Cordon Bleu and began her career at Saveur magazine in the 1990s. She freelanced while raising her three kids, returning to Saveur from 2019-2020 to serve as Senior Editor. Over the years, she’s contributed to many publications, including Budget Living, Saveur, Country Living, Organic Style, and Southern Living.
