“Southern hospitality” evokes images of front porches and pies resting on open window sills. For some, the concept may appear to be nothing more than a cultural stereotype.
For the Montgomery, Alabama, native, Southern hospitality is more than a collection of clichés—it’s a dynamic part of life.
“Putting others’ needs above your own is at the heart of hospitality,” Ms. Harris said. “I encourage people to leave their baggage—and phones—at the door, come in, sit down, have fresh tea and a bite to eat, and lay their souls out. Or not. It depends on the need. Someone might have the need to be silent and just be.”
“Nine times out of 10,” she said, “sweet tea, a slice of homemade cake, or a warm meal is hospitality’s accompaniment.”
Inspired by Granny’s Kitchen
True hospitality is about authenticity, not perfection. Ms. Harris learned this authenticity through the years spent eating food in her grandmother’s kitchen.“The most comforting food I’ve ever had came from my Granny’s kitchen,” she said. “She always had fresh seasonal vegetables from the farmers market or canned vegetables in her makeshift cabinet on the wall. Her attentiveness to me, the care to put my favorite things on the table, and her over-pouring service made me feel special, and could heal any wrong in my life.”
Ms. Harris recalls that Granny’s kitchen was far from perfect. Plastic tablecloths and mismatched dishes carried the foods that influenced Ms. Harris’s entire life.
Over the years, Ms. Harris attempted to convince her grandmother to write down her recipes. This persistence was met with recipe cards that listed only the ingredients, with no measurements or cooking directions. Ms. Harris got in the habit of using her father as a taste tester, looking to see if she was getting things exactly right.
“It was a lot of trial and error,” she said.
Ms. Harris was grateful to spend time with her grandmother, who grew ill and died after an extended hospital stay. It was then that the importance of true hospitality hit home.
In the South, whenever a relative dies, homemade food invariably finds its way to your doorstep.
“People are just showering you with care and love,” Ms. Harris said. “When a close member of your family dies, you can’t even think. It’s such a crazy time, and to realize that it was almost like God himself fed you during that time, it’s just a real blessing that Southerners really do show up.”
Granny’s memory now lives on in those interpreted recipe cards and several of Ms. Harris’s favorite recipes from the book. Memory is attached to food, so whenever Ms. Harris prepares Granny’s fried jalapeño cornbread, famous fried chicken, or meat and vegetable soup, there is always a little bit of Granny in the room.
Leaving a Legacy
Ms. Harris thinks occasionally about her own funeral and what her kids will say. She believes that it’s important to do this because it forces her to think about the type of legacy she wants to leave.“I think the biggest thing I want to leave my kids with is that they saw me serving and meeting the needs of Scott [her husband], and that I took care of them and served them,” she said.
Early in her marriage, Ms. Harris learned to make good use of the wild game that her husband brought in from his countless hunting excursions. Though she was originally opposed to the frequency of those trips, she decided that, instead of fighting about it, she would support her husband’s passion and learn to incorporate game meats into the family menu. Venison, for instance, became the special ingredient that gives her favorite chili recipe its deep, earthy flavor. Her expertise in cooking wild game has now brought her widespread recognition, and to Ms. Harris, it serves as a testament to the strength of her marriage.
Food continues to be at the center of their cherished family traditions, big and small. The freshness that she remembers flowing from her grandmother’s kitchen thrives in her own abundant gardens, where she grows her family’s vegetables. At holidays or large family gatherings, everyone—children and spouses included—makes something special. Ms. Harris is even planning to teach her first grandchild how to cook her first meal.
“She’s only 5 months old, but I think she’s ready,” she said with a laugh.
More than anything, it is everyday time spent around the table that Ms. Harris believes contributes most to an enduring food legacy. When families sit around the table and talk with one another, things get vulnerable. Jokes are made, problems are hashed out, and creative solutions are developed to solve them. Everyone works together. Everyone shares together.
