Last year, on the morning after Thanksgiving, I left the bed briefly to get my laptop, returned before the gray flannel sheets had gone cold, typed this note to my future self and put in on my October 2025 calendar:
Start thinking about a different way to do Thanksgiving. It’s too much work, and I was so worn out by the time it was over last year that nothing tasted good. It just wasn’t worth all the money and effort. I want to have real, present conversations without distraction, play games and pretend to care about football with everyone else.
Like many who live in the same town as their extended family, I have two Thanksgiving meals — one with my side of the family and one with my husband’s, usually a day or two apart.
On my side, my parents host and stick to the same menu and recipes every year. As someone who reads five food newsletters a day, I like to research trends, try new recipes and go cross-eyed reading comments. A few years ago, I offered to bring the sweet potato casserole recipe they use, which is so sugary it makes my teeth hurt. The next year I went rogue and brought butter-poached sweet potatoes. I’ve been on mac-and-cheese duty ever since.
I’ve learned to funnel my creativity into the Thanksgiving meal we host for my husband’s side of the family: He does the turkey, and I do everything else — and by that I mean go overboard in every possible way because I conflate food with love, wear myself out and wind up hating everyone and everything.
This year, I’m taking 2024 Danny’s advice to heart. My husband will still smoke a turkey — and we’ll ooh and ahh as if he’s the only human ever to transform raw meat into cooked meat — but the rest of my Thanksgiving table will be a mash-up of snacks, sides and desserts from locally owned restaurants. I need support. They need support. Instead of running laps around my kitchen for three days, I’ll cruise around town picking up preordered, premade sweet and savory self-care.
Puffy Muffin’s spinach artichoke dip
Puffy Muffin’s Spinach Artichoke Dip
Thanksgiving snacks weren’t a thing in my childhood home. The only way to knock back hours of hunger was to swipe a few handfuls of Planters peanuts from the ever-present canister on our kitchen counter and return to the living room couch until called. Now that my family has embraced all-day eating, my usual M.O. is cured meats, cheeses and crackers, some obligatory crudité, my late mother-in-law Lucy’s Chex Mix and the warm spinach and artichoke dip recipe from Square Table: A Collection of Recipes From Oxford, Mississippi, which starts with sautéing one diced onion in two sticks of butter. Puffy Muffin’s version, available by the pint from their grab-and-go section, is the only local version I’ve found that comes close, with the same dense creaminess that bubbles up beautifully in the oven, plus the tang of shredded Swiss on top.
The Loveless Cafe’s Mashed Potatoes and Gravy
Mashed potatoes are a mindset. Some are strong enough to share the spotlight with turkey — like Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton. Others are made to stand in the shadow of the almighty bird, like Queen behind Freddie Mercury. The Loveless Cafe, the OG meat-and-three that has been mashing taters for 74 years, takes the “Islands in the Stream” approach. White with bits of brown skin and a few small lumps, their mashed potatoes taste like actual potatoes, which is different from looking like potatoes and tasting like either butter and cream or nothing at all. Each quart of to-go mashed potatoes comes with one pint of peppery brown gravy that walks the line between thick and pourable and will either complement your turkey or hide all its sins.
Shotgun Willie’s Mr. Tony’s Magic Green Beans
Shotgun Willie’s Mr. Tony’s Magic Green Beans (and Queso y Mac)
If the name alone isn’t enough to make you swear off green bean casserole forever, surely the menu description will: “We systematically remove all the healthy parts of a green bean and replace it with magic!” Said magic includes spices that create a mild heat — not enough for Grandma to reach for her water glass — and juicy cubes of brisket. Mr. Tony seems a little magical himself — a real employee with a genuine smile who weighs pulled pork to order before sending your silver, paper-lined tray down the line to the sides section.
On that note: Along with turnip greens, glazed carrots and mashed potatoes, Mr. Tony’s green beans are part of Shotgun Willie’s holiday sides, and their queso y mac is not. But there is zero chance I walk out the door without at least six side orders of al dente elbows covered in liquid cheese (which I will hide in the back of the fridge so I don’t eat it all before Thanksgiving Day). So many macs in this town — and I’ve eaten plenty in the name of research — are laden with heavy cheese sauces that beat down noodles until they give up and go limp. Queso y mac takes a lighter approach that’s just as rich.
AVO’s Cornbread Stuffing and Mushroom Gravy
AVO’s Cornbread Stuffing and Mushroom Gravy
Part of the reason I was exhausted last Thanksgiving might have been that I made two versions of stuffing because I couldn’t decide on one. Cornbread! Sourdough! How is a carb-loving woman supposed to choose? They both turned out pretty meh — a box of Stove Top would’ve tasted better. Sign me up for a hearty vegan take on the classic cornbread stuffing from AVO, the plant-based restaurant in OneC1ty. Gonna need some mushroom gravy as well.
The Picnic Cafe’s Granny Rolls and Mashed Sweet Potatoes
Every year I rope my teen into making rolls with me for Thanksgiving, and every year they come out flat, partially raw or a sad combination of the two. This year I’ll snag a dozen Granny Rolls off the refrigerated shelf at The Picnic Cafe in Belle Meade. One of the few food items they don’t make in house, yeasty Granny Rolls benefit SweetAbility, a South Nashville nonprofit bakery that creates an inclusive work environment for people with disabilities. I’ll also pick up preordered mashed sweet potatoes — with tiny marshmallows and without — in easy-to-heat metal pans, and a few pints of various soups to serve when everyone’s tired of leftovers.
Elliston Place Soda Shop’s pumpkin pie
Elliston Place Soda Shop’s Pumpkin Pie
Last Thanksgiving, my neighbor sent an SOS text: “Do you have pumpkin pie? We didn’t cook Thanksgiving food this year because we didn’t think the kids would care. Grace is melting down because we don’t have pumpkin pie.” My father-in-law brought pie from Publix, so I cut a wide wedge and walked it three doors down. It got the job done, but had that pie come from Elliston Place Soda Shop, it would’ve blown Grace’s 5-year-old mind. Linda “The Pie Lady” Melton has filled the dessert case at one of Nashville’s few remaining culinary landmarks with family-secret-recipe pies for more than three decades. While you’re there, pick up a half-pint of cranberry sauce.
Tempered Fine Chocolates’ Seasonal Truffles
Tempered Fine Chocolates’ Seasonal Truffles
Some people don’t like pie. No need to clutch your pearls about it — there’s a reason dessert menus have more than one option. For those who want something small that packs a punch, Tempered Fine Chocolates’ truffles are the perfect one-bite way to end the meal, and prettier than a slice of pie ever thought about being. Fill a box with a custom mix of year-round classics like Leiper’s Fork Bourbon Old Fashioned Milk Chocolate plus some of their seasonal flavors like Milk Chocolate Pumpkin Spice, Milk Chocolate Sweet Potato Pie, White Chocolate Apple Crisp and Dark Chocolate Cranberry Orange.
