Gratitude: Thanksgiving on the Island

November 26, 2025

Thanksgiving season on the Island seems to shift us all into a gentler rhythm. The breeze feels cooler, the evenings settle in a little earlier, and life slows down just enough for us to notice the good around us. It’s the season that nudges us to gather close, savor simple moments, and remember what truly matters.

The Things We Carry Forward

Like many of you, my Thanksgiving table is a patchwork of the old and the new. Some dishes never change—no matter how many Pinterest recipes tempt us. Others make an appearance for a few years and then quietly slip away.

But the heart of the holiday? That always stays the same.

In my family, Thanksgiving is practically synonymous with my grandmother’s Southern Chicken & Dressing. Not stuffing—dressing—the kind baked in a casserole dish, fragrant with sage and onions and love. I’ve watched it stop conversations, win hearts, and start a few debates about who gets the last spoonful.

It’s the recipe everyone asks for.

And it brings me straight back to childhood every single time.

The truth is, Southern dressing is part recipe, part intuition. A little of this, a little of that, and enough broth until “it looks right.” If you know, you know.

But I’m sharing her version here—written exactly as a Southern grandmother would have written it: more guidance than rules, measured in memories instead of teaspoons.

My Grandmother’s Southern Chicken & Dressing

(warms hearts and tummies—if you try this recipe, I would love to hear about it!)

Cornbread Base

Mix one box of Jiffy cornbread mix and one bag of Martha White white cornbread mix with ½ cup water, ½ cup half-and-half, and 2 eggs. Stir gently.

Heat a large pie pan greased with 1–2 tsp bacon drippings. Pour in the batter and bake as directed on the box. Cornbread should be golden on top and browned at the edges. Cool and set aside to cool.

Chicken Options

Boil 3–4 boneless chicken breasts until fully cooked, then shred finely once cooled.

OR (my favorite) use a rotisserie chicken for extra flavor.

Broth Mixture

Heat 1 (32 oz) box of Swanson’s chicken stock with 3 tbsp minced onion. Add salt and pepper to taste. Remove from heat and stir in 1 (12 oz) can evaporated milk. Set aside.

Assembly

In a very large bowl, crumble the cornbread. Add the broth mixture slowly—stirring well. (It will look soupy at first.)

Add the shredded chicken.

Add about 4 tsp sage—taste mixture to get sage right. Stir well. Careful not to add too much but you want to be able to taste it.

Add 2 heaping tbsp minced onion.

Add 1 beaten egg.

Mix well.

Pour into a 13×9 pan greased with bacon drippings.

Bake at 350°F until set and lightly browned, and your kitchen smells like Thanksgiving itself. My favorite part is the browned edges... delicious!

This is a once-a-year recipe in our family—that’s what keeps it special. We look forward to it all year, and every bite carries memories of the last time we gathered around the table.

Our Island Traditions

On the Island, Thanksgiving looks a little different. Some families gather around big outdoor tables, coastal breezes ruffling the napkins.

Some take long morning walks on the beach, toes in the sand, collecting shells before the feast begins.

Some of us decorate for Christmas early, turning the house into a twinkling wonderland as soon as the leftovers are packed away.

Others savor fall until the very last pumpkin-scented candle burns out.

And then there are all of the yummy recipes: pecan pies, sweet potato and corn casseroles, or that one dessert nobody wants to admit to eating for breakfast the next day—but I'll admit it—no shame here.

Traditions aren’t about perfection. They’re about what we choose to carry forward—year after year, memory after memory.

Thankful for This Place, These People

This Thanksgiving, I’m grateful for so much—family, friends, creativity, the chance to do what I love, and this Island community that continues to inspire me. I’m thankful for the small things that add up to a beautiful life: a calm walk on the beach in the morning, a recipe that’s been loved for generations, and the small moments that make us pause and smile.

This month also marks a little milestone for me. I’ve been writing The Art of Island Life for just over a year now, and I’m deeply grateful for every reader who follows along—whether you stop me in the grocery store, send a kind email, or share a memory of your own. These small connections are what make this community feel like home.

Wherever this holiday finds you—around a crowded table, with neighbors and friends, or soaking up a quiet moment of peace—I hope it fills your heart (and your plate) with more goodness than you can hold.

Happy Thanksgiving, friends.

The Art of Island Life will return next week with more stories and inspiration from our coastal community. Have a story to share or an upcoming event? Reach out to me at contact@melissamitchellart.com.