Holiday Dish Writing Contest

It wasn’t the beauty of the spread laid on the table,

Nor the apple pie, a staple of my grandmother's,

It was the preparation of grandmother's noodles.

The precious time that we got to spend together. 

We would create a perfect circle that we formed in the middle of the dough to mix the eggs in,

Then we would roll out the dough across the kitchen table. 

My favorite part, what I loved most,

was the cutting of the dough in long, perfect lines.  

I always tried to cut the dough in a perfectly 

In a straight line to make the noodles perfect. 

Because my grandmother's noodles were just that, perfect. 

 

One November, as I was cutting the perfect lines,

I noticed my grandmother watching me.

Then, she took the cutter from me and cut into the dough, freely

The cuts that she made in the dough were not straight,

They were jagged and curved.

She said to me, “It’s better when they’re not the same,

Their uniqueness adds to the flavor.”

“The noodles are like us,” she continued,

“All of us are uniquely different, each one with its own flavor.

If we all were cut in the same exact way,

The world would be a very dull and grey place.”

“That’s why God made you, uniquely you.

To add your own flavor to the world.

So don’t waste time trying to be perfect, when you are perfectly you.”

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Mackenzie Campbell is from Nelsonville, Ohio. She is currently pursuing a bachelor’s degree in Early Childhood Education at Ohio University Lancaster campus. She enjoys spending my time hiking with her dog, reading, and spending quality time with her friends and family. 

My great grandmother raised my grandmother and her siblings in a small home in the hills of West Virginia. While they did not have much, she began making this simple 3 ingredient chip dip recipe for their Friday nights as a family playing games, sharing stories and laughing in their living room. My grandmother then passed the recipe on to my mother and her siblings that I was able to enjoy while growing up and it now has been passed on to me. 

 

It starts with a block or two of cream cheese, 

softened and worn like the hands that pass it down– 

generation after generation, 

in a kitchen where time seems to move slower, 

and laughter fills the air like the aroma of the food in the oven. 

 

Onions, sharp and sweet, are chopped fine, 

and no one is quite sure if the tears flowing like the Little Hocking down my cheeks are from the chopped vegetable in my hands, 

from the hilarious joke my cousin told from his seat at the table, 

from the memory of the one who passed this tradition down to my mother and then on to me– or from the uncertainty that moments like this will last forever. 

​

A spoonful of mayonnaise pulls everything together– 

a dash of salt, a sprinkle of pepper. 

The ingredients are folded in with such care, 

like stories whispered from one generation to another throughout the years. 

​

This is more than a recipe 

because it is present at– 

every rope swing ride at the family cookout with the breeze blowing through my hair, every laughter filled egg hunt after Easter dinner, 

every exciting birthday gift wrapped with intricate bows, 

every game night on New Years Eve as we await a new 365 page book of blank pages. 

​

It’s a story told at the kitchen table between sips of Cherry Kool-Aid made by a younger me– It shows up at every gathering, 

From Christmas feasts to summer picnics– 

the taste of it as steady as the mountains and valleys that cradle our lives. 

​

The worn bowl that holds our snack has seen better days, 

much like the company around it. 

However, no one takes notice 

as we dip salty Mister Bee potato chips into the simple masterpiece. 

​

She didn’t have much, the creator of this staple, 

and I often sit and wonder if she knew what it would become to us for generations to come–

 

A silent witness to every celebration and mourning.

To my great grandmother, it tasted like survival. 

It tasted like entertaining a house full of love and children of her own, it tasted like kitchen dances on a Friday night, 

it tasted like joy that was discovered in the smallest moments. 

​

And now, 

I make it the same way those before me did– 

passing it around with a smile, knowing it’s more than a chip dip.

It’s home, 

It’s history, 

It’s memories, 

It’s a glue that holds us together, 

even when the world pulls us apart.

-

Born and raised in Southeast Ohio, Haley DeVore has been creating stories since she was little but just recently began sharing her writing with others. Her published works include two short stories, “Meet Me in the Fluorescent Glow” and “The Book Cellar,” and a short collection of poetry titled Poems About You. She proudly calls Athens home. 

The sun glistened in the dining room as my family brought in the delicious Thanksgiving dishes. It was my sixth Thanksgiving, and my first at my grandma's. My mom brought in the turkey, my grandpa followed with the stuffing. My aunt carried my then-favorite dish, green beans, and my grandma held the one food that would change my perspective on hundreds of things: apple pie salad.

 

The food was set down right as my older sister and I had finished setting the table with the forks on right and spoons on the left; we were too young to know how to properly set a table. Everyone took their seats, my mom on my right and sister on my left, and we said grace. 

 

As soon as the prayer was finished and we said “Amen,” I reached for the green beans, filling my plate half full with them. As I reached for another spoonful, my mom caught my hand.

 

“Try something else! You might like it.” 

 

I looked at her in disbelief. Try something new? Why would I want to do that? I knew what I liked and that’s what I wanted, but she looked at me as if to say, “If you don’t pick one, I’ll pick one for you.” I could at least see what might look good, so I had to pick one myself. I looked around, everything looking worse than the last. 

 

Then, my eyes landed on the dish, the dish that would change my life.

 

“Could you pass that?” I pointed at what I would soon know to be as Apple pie salad, and my sister passed it to me. I looked at it and gulped, worried that it may be the worst thing I’ve ever tasted in my six years of living. I scooped a little onto my plate and took a cautious bite.

 

As soon as the food landed on my tongue, birds sang. My eyes lit up, baffled that I hadn’t tried this before. How could I have never noticed? This was the best thing I’d ever had! I put more on my plate, completely forgetting about my green beans. 

 

After Thanksgiving, I asked my grandma if we could take some home. She happily gave us some, and I happily ate it the following week.

 

The next year, I had apple pie salad, and I even tried some new things, wondering if they’d be as life changing. Although I did discover new, delicious foods, none compared to my favorite. To this day, I have the most Apple pie salad on my plate than anyone else. Thanks to this one food, I’ve tried hundreds of new things, some disgusting and some as amazing.

 

Sometimes, you need to try something new. Who knows, maybe it could change your life!

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Madelyn Stout currently lives in West Virginia, and she has always had a passion for writing. Since she was young, she has been writing stories for her family, and she is very grateful for the opportunity to write about one of her favorite memories.

Skinning potatoes at the sink

A job earned in time

And a proud seven year old glows

To peel and peel

And peel and peel

Mom stands back and worries about the cleanliness

Was the sink sanitized first?

Did you wash your hands?

Dad throws a raw turkey around like he is tougher than semolina

There is a taste of Holiday tension in the air

Heads shaking and arms gesturing

So start the music and play it loud

Open the cans of beans and drain them

Let little brother crush the potato chips with toddler-clean hands

Eat silky, orange cheese with your healthy broccoli

Soon you’ll be able to smell the pumpkin pie made with love

Baking

Stomachs rumbling and ready for the turkey to be done

Mash those potatoes

Mash them good

Pour in the milk and add some cream

A round of salt and pepper please

Your hard earned deliciousness is getting us excited

And our teamwork is paying off

Oh how special each pre-dinner taste test is

Hurry turkey, homemade gravy

We are ready

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Jennifer L'Heureux is loving this new found connection of putting words with the tangible creations and descriptive images that float around in her head.  As an entrepreneur and Artist, Jennifer enjoys sharing her creativity with others, whether it be cooking a meal, making the plate to serve it on, or painting a picture to decorate the room.