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 don’t need an excuse at all, and you might even use paper plates. You simply say, “Y’all 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.
“Y’all 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 she’d 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 “Für 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 “Y’all come over” is all that’s needed.
In the end, you don’t have to justify inviting the neighbors over for dinner. A theme isn’t necessary for an impromptu party. Having your girlfriends to lunch doesn’t require a reason. And goodness knows your family will be glad for any excuse—or none at all—to 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 you’ll consider saying “Y’all come over” for no other reason than to share your home, and your heart, with those you love.
—AMY LYLES WILSON