Caldwell Patsy - Yall Come Over

Yall Come Over

2013 Amy Lyles Wilson, Patsy Caldwell, and Bryan Curtis

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any meanselectronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or otherexcept for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Published in Nashville, Tennessee, by Nelson Books, an imprint of Thomas Nelson. Nelson Books and Thomas Nelson are registered trademarks of HarperCollins Christian Publishing, Inc.

Photography by Stephanie Mullins

Food styling by Teresa Blackburn

Thomas Nelson, Inc., titles may be purchased in bulk for educational, business, fund-raising, or sales promotional use. For information, please e-mail SpecialMarkets@ThomasNelson.com.

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013944457

ISBN-13: 978-1-4016-0484-4

Printed in the United States of America

13 14 15 16 17 QG 6 5 4 3 2 1

This book is dedicated to my son, Bryan Curtis, and my daughter, Kelly Sims. Both my children cherish the heritage of Southern cooking. It was my weekly lunches with my kids who are no longer kids where we would discuss ideas and share memories that made this book possible. This book is also dedicated to my husband, Bill Caldwell, who not only did a lot of tasting but also made a lot of trips to the grocery store. It is because of these three people that Bless Your Heart, You Be Sweet, and now, Yall Come Over have become a reality. I am a very lucky and grateful mother and wife.

PATSY CALDWELL

In honor of the friends and family members whove invited me into their homes over the years to share food and fellowship. Thank you for showing me what hospitality looks like.

AMY LYLES WILSON

Contents

White Chocolate Pie

In the South, it seems there is no shortage of reasons for throwing open your doors and inviting friends and family over for a bite to eat. There are the obvious ones, of course, like weddings and graduations, which deserve a big to-do and maybe even the good silver. Then there are the more common occurrences, like birthdays and promotions, for which the everyday china will do just fine. And then there are those times when you dont need an excuse at all, and you might even use paper plates. You simply say, Yall come over, and they do.

When my piano teacher, Mrs. Collins, decided it was time for me to have a recital all on my own, my mother responded by promptly inviting just about anybody she could wrangle to witness the spectacle.

Yall come over, she surely said. Those piano lessons are really paying off.

She made pickup food and punch, and we set up some folding chairs in the front room so everyone could have an unobstructed view of the piano. She even put out a little glass of water for me in the kitchen. After each song I would stand up, try my best to smooth down the Sunday school dress shed put me in, the one with the scratchy lining (which I remember as crinoline, but now realize was probably something else), and go take a sip of water, offstage as it were, like I was some sort of opera diva. I would then return to the piano bench and pound out another round of London Bridge or Fr Elise. Everyone applauded when they were supposed to, and I survived to tell the tale. It was an early lesson for me in the art of hospitality, that ability to take an otherwise mundane occurrence and turn it into a festive occasion.

The bigger milestones, like a wedding or an anniversary, might call for something a little more high falutin, like Please join us, or The favor of a reply is requested. But most times a simple Yall come over is all thats needed.

In the end, you dont have to justify inviting the neighbors over for dinner. A theme isnt necessary for an impromptu party. Having your girlfriends to lunch doesnt require a reason. And goodness knows your family will be glad for any excuseor none at allto savor your home-cooked best.

As we did in Bless Your Heart and You Be Sweet, Patsy Caldwell and I wanted to combine down-home recipes with heartfelt stories in an appetizing and accessible collection that you can return to again and again. We hope this book will inspire you to gather your friends and family to celebrate the major milestones in your lives. But we also hope youll consider saying Yall come over for no other reason than to share your home, and your heart, with those you love.

AMY LYLES WILSON

A ny way you look at it, last years Fourth of July cookout was a disaster for the Muller family; at least thats how Irma sees it. Even if you rejoice in the fact that little Isabellas recovery from the bee stingswho knew she was allergic?was rapid and complete, you couldnt deny that the entire affair was a fiasco. Even if youre grateful, and Irma is, that there was only minor damage to Juniors brand-new all-terrain vehicle when the tree fell on it during the thunderstorm, you couldnt ignore the reality that not one member of the Muller family left with a smile on his or her face. And the food? Please dont get Irma started.

She wont say another word about how if shed been in charge instead of Cousin Mary Jean, none of the unfortunate incidentsdid Irma mention the forks that cracked in two every time you tried to spear a baked bean?would have occurred, but thats the honest truth. Mary Jean didnt even spring for the good plasticware, thats how cheap she is. (Did Irma just say that out loud?)

Now that Irmas in charge of this years event, shes moving the celebration from the state park to her backyard. The park wasnt worth it, not after they lost Big Irma last year, only to find her in the restroom waiting patiently for someone to bring her a handful of toilet paper. Add to that the fact that they werent allowed to shoot fireworks on county property, and nobody had been happy. Never again, says Irma.

Thankfully, shes always been hyper-organized, a trait that comes in handy at a time like this, even if her fine attention to detail does occasionally get on her loved ones nerves. Shes ordered two tents in case of rain, and there are five boxes of bottled water in the carport for those who cant take the heat. Shes hired Boffo the Clown to put in an appearance for the kids, and shes invited the volunteer firefighters in case Uncle Fred gets a little out of control with the Roman candles; theyre his favorites. Irmas place is just beyond the county line, but you cant be too sure. Fred means well; hes just trying to be festive. But now that he refuses to wear his hearing aids, the chances of reining him in are greatly diminished. Irma decides shed better bake an extra apple sheet cake for the fire chief in case she has to do some sweet-talking.

Irma knows that even with her uncanny ability to anticipate almost any potential outcome, there are some things she cant control. Even if you pay your taxes in full, love your neighbor as yourself, and limit your swearing to two curse words a week, sometimes bad things do happen to good people.

Even God blinks, Irma says, so you might as well be prepared.

The risk of Irmas mother showing up in that red, white, and blue sequined T-shirt, the one that emphasizes Big Irmas ample bosom, is another thing Irma will have to let go of.

Its one of the few pleasures I have left, responds her mother whenever Irma tries to talk to her about her loud clothing choices. Irma would use the word