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00:00In 1948, a coal miner's wife in eastern Kentucky fed a family of nine every Sunday from one black
00:08cast-iron skillet that had never once touched a drop of soap. That skillet was older than she was.
00:15Today it would sell for more than she earned in a month. Most people think Sunday dinner
00:22meant a roast in the oven. The truth is the whole meal came out of one pan on top of
00:28the stove.
00:30Number 14 on this list was so good that neighbors invited themselves over uninvited.
00:36Number three could stretch a quarter's worth of meat across a full table.
00:41These 25 skillet meals built American families. Then we bought non-stick and forgot them.
00:49Hit that subscribe button and let's count down the 25 forgotten cast-iron skillet meals
00:55grandma made every Sunday that nobody cooks anymore.
01:00Number 25 skillet fried potatoes and onions. Before Sunday dinner had a single fancy thing
01:07on the table. It had a skillet full of potatoes. Your grandmother sliced them thin, dropped them
01:15into hot bacon grease with a whole onion cut into rings and let them cook low and slow until
01:21the edges turned deep gold and crisp while the middles went soft and creamy.
01:28She did not stir them much. She knew that stirring broke the crust and the crust was the whole point.
01:35A five pound bag of potatoes cost about 39 cents in the early 1950s and the grease was already sitting
01:43in a coffee can
01:44on the back of the stove saved from breakfast. That was the genius of it. Nothing was bought special.
01:51The potatoes soaked up the smoke of the pork fat and turned into something no restaurant home fry
01:59has ever matched. Children fought over the crispy bits stuck to the bottom of the pan.
02:05We replaced this with frozen hash browns that taste like nothing and we called that progress.
02:12Number 24 fried cornmeal. Mush. On Saturday night, your great grandmother boiled cornmeal into a thick porridge,
02:23poured it into a loaf pan and set it in the cold pantry to firm up overnight. On Sunday morning,
02:31she turned that solid block out, sliced it a half inch thick and fried each piece in the skillet until
02:38the
02:38outside formed a shattering golden shell around a soft steaming center. She served it with butter and
02:45molasses or a pour of sorghum syrup. A pound of cornmeal cost pennies and stretched a family through the
02:52leanest weeks of winter. This was depression food that survived into the good years because it simply
02:59tasted wonderful. The contrast of crackling crust against that smooth middle was pure comfort.
03:08Today, most Americans have never even heard of it. The knowledge lived in the hands of women who never
03:13wrote it down and when they passed, so did the recipe. Number 23 hoe cakes. Before biscuits became the
03:21Sunday bread of the South, there were hoe cakes and every grandmother had her own version. Cornmeal, a little
03:28flour, salt and buttermilk stirred into a loose batter, then dropped by the spoonful into a screaming hot greased
03:37skillet where it spread into a lacy crisp-edged little cake. Legend says field hands cooked them on the
03:45flat blade of a garden hoe held over the fire and the name stuck. They came off the skillet fast,
03:52one after another, and got stacked on a plate in the warming oven until dinner. Slathered with butter,
03:59they soaked up pot liquor and gravy like nothing else. A batch cost almost nothing and used exactly
04:07what was already in the pantry. Hoe cakes were the bread of people who did not have money for yeast
04:14or an oven that held heat. They were humble and they were perfect and now they exist mostly as a
04:21footnote
04:21in old church cookbooks. Number 22 fried green tomatoes. Long before a movie made them famous,
04:30fried green tomatoes were simply what you did with the tomatoes that would not ripen before the first
04:36frost. Your grandmother sliced the hard green fruit thick, dredged each slice in cornmeal, seasoned with
04:44salt and pepper, and laid them into hot grease until both sides turned crackling brown. The tomato inside
04:52stayed tart and firm, almost meaty, a sharp bite against the crunchy coating. Nothing on the vine went to
05:00waste. When the season turned and the garden was dying, this was how a family kept eating from it. A
05:07whole
05:08meal of fried green tomatoes and cornbread cost next to nothing and tasted like the very end of summer.
05:15She served them straight from the skillet, too hot to touch, and everyone burned their fingers anyway
05:22because they could not wait. Now they show up on restaurant menus at $11 a plate and almost nobody makes
05:30them at home. Number 21 fried cabbage with bacon. One head of cabbage, a few strips of bacon, a hot
05:38skillet,
05:39and 20 minutes. That was the entire recipe and it fed a table. Your grandmother fried the bacon first,
05:46then dropped the chopped cabbage right into the drippings and let it cook down until the edges caramelized
05:53and turned sweet and the whole thing collapsed into something silky and rich. A head of cabbage cost a
06:01dime and could feed six people. Bacon was for flavor, not for bulk, so two or three slices did the
06:08whole job.
06:09The smell filled the house by early afternoon and told everyone that dinner was coming. This was a dish that
06:17asked almost nothing of a tired cook. No careful timing, no fussing, just heat and patience.
06:26It crossed every regional line in America because cabbage was cheap everywhere and kept for weeks
06:33in a cool cellar. We forgot it the moment we could afford to fill the table with meat instead.
06:40Number 20 salmon croquettes. Friday might have been fish day but salmon croquettes showed up on plenty of
06:48Sunday tables too because a tall can of pink salmon cost about 25 cents and stretched further than any
06:56fresh fish ever could. Your grandmother drained the can, picked out the big bones, and mixed the salmon
07:03with crushed saltines, a beaten egg, and a little grated onion. She shaped the mixture into flat patties
07:11and fried them in the skillet until the outsides went deep, golden, and crisp while the insides stayed
07:18moist and tender. Served with a spoon of creamed peas or a wedge of cornbread, this felt like a real
07:25supper,
07:26the kind you might order at a diner. Here is the part nobody knew back then. The soft bones
07:33she left in a few of the patties were pure calcium, exactly what doctors now tell older people to eat
07:41for their bones. She did not know the science. She just knew it was cheap and it held together in
07:48the pan.
07:50Number 19 ham steak with red-eye gravy. When there was a little money for a slice of country ham,
07:57Sunday breakfast became something close to a celebration. Your grandmother laid the thick,
08:03salty ham steak into a hot cast iron skillet and seared both sides until the edges curled and the fat
08:10rendered down. Then, while the pan still hissed with browned bits stuck to the bottom, she poured in a cup
08:17of black coffee and scraped everything loose. That coffee reduced into a thin, dark, glistening gravy the
08:25color of a copper penny, sharp and smoky and utterly unlike anything sweet. They called it red-eye gravy
08:34and men spooned it over grits and biscuits and even the ham itself. The bitterness of the coffee cut
08:41clean through the heavy salt of the cured pork. It cost nothing extra because the coffee was already made.
08:50This was mountain cooking at its cleverest and it has nearly vanished from American kitchens
08:56outside a handful of old diners in Tennessee and Virginia.
09:01Number 18 fried okra. In the deep summer, when the okra came in faster than anyone could eat it,
09:10your grandmother sliced the pods into little wheels, rolled them in cornmeal and fried them crisp
09:16in a shallow pool of hot grease. The coating turned golden and crunchy while the okra inside went tender
09:23and every bit of that famous sliminess disappeared into the heat. A colander full of okra from the garden
09:31cost nothing at all. She stood at the stove turning the pieces with a slotted spoon and the smell pulled
09:39children in from the yard before she even called them. Fried okra was proof that the humblest oddest
09:47vegetable in the garden could become the thing everyone reached for first. It never traveled well
09:54and never reheated right, so it had to be eaten straight from the skillet, standing up, half of it gone
10:02before it ever reached the table. That is exactly why it was never written down properly and why so few
10:10people make it now. Here is where the story gets interesting. The skillet itself was the secret and it
10:18was the one thing in the kitchen that a family truly owned forever. A good cast iron skillet was not
10:25bought at the store every few years like our pans today. It was inherited. It passed from a mother to
10:33a daughter on her wedding day, already black and slick from 40 years of Sunday dinners, already seasoned
10:39by thousands of meals cooked in its surface. Your grandmother never washed it with soap because soap
10:46would strip the layer of polymerized fat that made it non-stick and gave every dish its faint, savory depth.
10:53She wiped it clean, rubbed it with a little grease, and hung it back on the wall. Its skillet held
11:01the
11:01memory of every meal ever cooked in it. Food scientists now confirm what she knew by instinct,
11:08that a well-seasoned iron surface conducts and holds heat more evenly than almost anything money can buy
11:15today. We threw them out for non-stick pans that warp, scratch, and end up in a landfill in three
11:23years.
11:24Number 17. Skillet baked beans. This was not the sweet gluey stuff from a can. Your grandmother
11:33started with dried navy beans soaked overnight, then baked them slow in the cast iron skillet with
11:40molasses, a chopped onion, a spoon of mustard, and a piece of salt pork laid right on top. Ours in
11:48a low oven
11:48turned them thick, dark, and rich, the pork rendering down through the whole pot while the top formed a
11:56sticky caramelized crust. A pound of dried beans cost about a dime and fed the family for two days.
12:05This was the dish that sat next to the ham at every church supper and every Sunday table across New
12:12England
12:12and the rural Midwest. The beans drank up the smoke and sweetness until they tasted like they had been
12:20cooking for a week. We traded this for a can we heat in a microwave and we lost the entire
12:26depth of flavor
12:27that only time and a good skillet could build. Number 16. Liver and onions. This is the one that makes
12:37people
12:37flinch now, but in your grandmother's kitchen it was a Sunday treat and there was a reason. Beef liver cost
12:44about
12:4420 cents a pound because butchers had more of it than anyone wanted and it was one of the most
12:50nutritious
12:51things a poor family could put on the table packed with iron and vitamin b12. She sliced it thin, dredged
13:01it in
13:01seasoned flour and cooked it fast in the skillet, no more than two minutes a side, while a mountain of
13:08onions
13:08caramelized chuft and sweet in a second pan. The trick was the timing. Cook it too long and it turned
13:17to
13:17leather, which is exactly why a whole generation grew up hating it. Done right, it was mild and rich, the
13:26outside
13:26crisp, the inside barely pink. She piled the onions on top and served it with mashed potatoes. We stopped
13:34making it because we could afford to. The nutrition never went anywhere. The knowledge did. Number 15. Fried
13:43catfish. On a Sunday after a good week of fishing or when the money reached far enough for a mess
13:50of
13:51catfish at the market, your grandmother rolled the fillets in cornmeal and dropped them into
13:56deep screaming hot grease in the cast iron skillet. The coating puffed and crackled into a golden shell
14:04while the fish inside steamed sweet and flaky. She cooked them in batches keeping the finished pieces
14:13warm while the grease came back up to temperature because she knew fish dropped into cool oil turned
14:21greasy and sad. Served with hush puppies fried in the same fat and a scoop of coleslaw, this was a
14:29feast
14:30that cost almost nothing on a river town budget. The smell of frying cornmeal and fish carried clear
14:38down the road. Fried catfish was the Sunday meal of the whole lower Mississippi and every farm pond in
14:45between. It has become restaurant food now, something you drive to and pay for when once it came out of
14:52a skillet in every country kitchen in the south. Number 14. Swiss steak. Here is the dish that made
15:00neighbors invite themselves over. Your grandmother took the cheapest, toughest cut of round steak, the
15:07kind that would chew like a boot if you just fried it, and pounded flour into it with the edge
15:12of a heavy
15:12plate until the fibers broke down. Then she browned it hard in the skillet, laid onions and a can of
15:20tomatoes over the top, clamped on a lid, and let it barely simmer for two full hours. That long, slow,
15:28moist heat transformed shoe leather into meat so tender it fell apart under a fork, swimming in a thick,
15:36tangy gravy. A pound of round steak cost about 40 cents and fed the whole family with gravy to spare
15:44over mashed potatoes. The name had nothing to do with Switzerland. It came from Swissing, the old word for
15:53running fabric or meat through rollers to soften it. This was frugal genius, cheap meat made luxurious by
16:01nothing but time and a covered skillet, and it has almost completely disappeared from the American table.
16:09Number 13. Skillet macaroni and cheese. Long before the blue box, there was real macaroni and cheese, and plenty of
16:18grandmothers made it right in the cast iron skillet. She boiled the elbows, stirred them into a simple sauce of
16:26butter,
16:26flour, flour, as in milk, melted with a hunk of sharp store cheese, then poured the whole thing into the
16:33buttered skillet, topped it with more cheese and a few cracker crumbs, and baked it until the top blistered
16:40brown and the edges went crisp and lacy against the hot iron. Those crunchy edges where the cheese met the
16:49skillet were the most fought over bites at the table. A batch cost maybe 30 cents and fed everyone.
16:57This was Sunday indulgence, the dish that made a plain meal feel like plenty. The box version that
17:05replaced it is faster, but it has never once produced that crackling brown crust or that deep real cheese
17:13flavor that only a hot skillet and an oven could build. Here is something the food industry would
17:21rather you not think about. Every single meal on this list is cheap because it uses ingredients no
17:28company can mark up. Dried beans, cornmeal, potatoes, cabbage, the tough cuts of meat, the organ meats,
17:37the parts of the animal nobody else wanted. There is no advertising budget behind a bag of cornmeal.
17:45There is no brand loyalty in a head of cabbage or a slab of liver. That is exactly why you
17:53never saw a
17:54commercial for Swiss steak or fried okra and why no company built an empire on skillet potatoes.
18:00Your grandmother's Sunday table was a masterpiece of using everything and wasting nothing. The whole
18:08animal, the whole garden, the cheapest bins at the market, transformed by skill into food worth
18:16gathering around. Then the frozen dinner arrived and the marketing told us that cooking from scratch
18:23was a burden we deserved to escape. We believed it and we handed away a hundred years of knowledge for
18:30the
18:30convenience of a box. Number twelve, chicken fried steak with milk gravy. Take that same cheap tough
18:39round steak but instead of stewing it, your grandmother pounded it thin, dipped it in egg and seasoned flour
18:46and fried it in the skillet exactly like fried chicken until it wore a shattering golden crust. Then she
18:55poured off most of the grease, left the browned bits stuck to the bottom, sprinkled in flour, and whisked in
19:02milk
19:03until it thickened into a peppery white gravy, scraping up every bit of flavor from the pan. Poured over the
19:11steak and a pile of mashed potatoes, this was Sunday dinner across Texas, Oklahoma, and the whole Great
19:19Plains. It turned a 40-cent cut of gristle into something that tasted like celebration. The gravy was
19:28the miracle, a whole sauce made from nothing but drippings, flour, meat, or in milk. Every Plains grandmother
19:39made it without a recipe. Today it survives mostly in truck stops and diners when once it came out of
19:45a
19:46skillet in a farmhouse kitchen every Sunday afternoon. Number eleven, sausage gravy and biscuits.
19:54On Sunday morning before church, your grandmother crumbled a little breakfast sausage into the cast
20:00iron skillet and browned it until the fat rendered out and the bottom of the pan turned dark with flavor.
20:08Then she stirred in a spoon of flour to soak up that grease and poured in milk, whisking
20:15slow until it thickened into a rich peppery gravy studded with bits of sausage. She split her hot
20:23biscuits, laid them open on the plate, and drowned them in it. A half pound of sausage stretched into
20:30gravy that fed the whole family, because the gravy, not the meat, was the point. This was the meal that
20:37sent
20:37farmers and coal miners into a hard day full and satisfied. The skillet did all the work. One pan from
20:46sausage to sauce. We buy it frozen now or in a can and it tastes like paste. The real thing
20:53took 10 minutes
20:54and cost almost nothing and a whole generation grew up on it. Number ten, smothered pork chops.
21:03When the family could afford pork chops, your grandmother did not just fry them and call it
21:08done. She browned them hard in the skillet, then buried them, smothered them under a thick blanket
21:15of onions and a gravy built from their own drippings and a little milk or broth. She clamped on the
21:22lid and
21:23let them cook low until the chops went so tender the meat pulled away from the bone and the gravy
21:30soaked into
21:31everything. Cheap, thin chops that would have been dry and tough under a broiler turned silky and rich
21:39under that slow covered heat. Served over rice or mashed potatoes, this was sundae comfort at its deepest.
21:48The technique of smothering browning meat, then finishing it slow under gravy and a lid,
21:54was one of the great secrets of southern cast iron cooking and it made the humblest cut taste expensive.
22:02We stopped taking the time. Now we grill a chop in four minutes and wonder why it tastes like nothing.
22:10Number nine, hamburger steak with onion gravy. Farmers called it poor man's steak and it fed millions.
22:18Your grandmother shaped a pound of ground beef into thick oval patties, seasoned them simple with salt and pepper,
22:25and seared them in the hot skillet. Then she pulled them out, cooked sliced onions down in the drippings,
22:33until they went sweet and soft, stirred in a little flour, and poured in water or milk to build a
22:41deep brown
22:42onion gravy right in the pan. The patties went back in to simmer under that gravy until everything married
22:50together. Ground beef cost about 43 cents a pound and one pound fed the whole table when it was drowned
23:00in gravy and served over potatoes. This was the meal that made cheap meat feel like a real steak dinner
23:09on a
23:09Sunday when there was no money for the real thing. Restaurants later dressed it up and called it Salisbury
23:16steak. Your grandmother just called it supper and she made it better. Number eight, fried apples.
23:24When the apple trees dropped their fruit in the fall, your grandmother filled the cast iron skillet
23:31with sliced apples, a knob of butter, a scatter of brown sugar, and a shake of cinnamon and cooked them
23:39down
23:39slow until they went soft and glossy and the syrup thickened around them. She served them alongside pork
23:47or ham or spooned warm over biscuits as something close to dessert. A bushel of apples from the yard cost
23:55nothing. And this turned them into the taste of autumn itself. The whole kitchen smelled of cinnamon
24:02and caramelizing sugar by early afternoon. Fried apples sat in that comfortable place between a side
24:09dish and a treat, the sweet note on a heavy Sunday plate. They kept for days and got better as
24:17they sat.
24:18This was one of the simplest, most beloved things to ever come out of a country skillet. And now it
24:24survives mostly as a memory of grandmothers who made it every fall without ever measuring a thing.
24:31Here is what the recipes never tell you. Sunday dinner was never really about the food. It was the one
24:38meal
24:38of the week when the whole family sat down together, when the work stopped, when the good plates came out,
24:45and grace was said, and children were made to wash their hands and stay at the table until everyone
24:51was finished. The skillet meals were the anchor of a ritual that has almost entirely dissolved from
24:58American life. Your grandmother spent her Sunday morning at the stove not because she loved to cook,
25:04but because feeding her people well was how she showed love in a time when there were few other ways
25:10to say it. Every dish on this list carried that weight. The smell of frying chicken or baking cornbread
25:18meant home, meant safety, meant that no matter how hard the week had been, on Sunday there was a full
25:24table and a family around it. We did not just lose the recipes. We lost the afternoon. Number seven,
25:32skillet cornbread. This is the dish that defined the southern table, and it was never ever made in a pan.
25:39Your grandmother heated the empty cast iron skillet in the oven with a spoon of bacon grease inside until
25:46it smoked, then poured the cornmeal batter into that screaming hot greased iron so it sizzled the
25:53instant it hit. That is what created the legendary crust, a shattering deep brown bottom that no muffin tin
26:03or glass dish could ever produce. Real cornbread had almost no sugar. It was savory, crumbly, and built to
26:12be broken into a bowl of beans, or crumbled into buttermilk and eaten with a spoon. A batch cost pennies.
26:20It was on the table nearly every day and always on Sunday. The skillet was the whole secret, because only
26:27that heavy iron, preheated until it was dangerous, could set that crust. Today, most people make sweet
26:35cake-like cornbread in a pan and have never once tasted the real thing that came out of a 50
26:41-year-old
26:42skillet. Number six, skillet meatloaf. Before meatloaf lived in a loaf pan, plenty of grandmothers
26:50baked it right in the cast iron skillet, shaped into a round, and the results were better for it.
26:57She mixed ground beef with bread, soaked in milk, an egg, and grated onion, pressed it into the
27:04greased skillet, and topped it with a smear of ketchup or tomato sauce. The iron heated the bottom
27:12and the sides at once, so the whole loaf developed a browned, almost crusted exterior instead of steaming
27:20pale in a pan. The milk-soaked bread was the trick that kept it moist, stretching a single pound of
27:28cheap ground beef into a meal that fed six with slices left over for sandwiches. This was the Sunday
27:36standby of the entire American middle, from Ohio to Kansas, humble and filling and endlessly forgiving.
27:45The skillet gave it an edge the loaf pan never could. We forgot that detail, and meatloaf became
27:52the dry, gray joke it is unfairly remembered as today. Number five, pineapple upside-down cake.
28:01This was the show-off dessert, the one that came out for company and Sunday best, and it was born
28:07entirely from the cast iron skillet. Your grandmother melted butter and brown sugar in the bottom of the
28:14pan, arranged canned pineapple rings in the syrup with a maraschino cherry in each center, then poured
28:22cake batter right over the top and baked the whole thing in the skillet. When it came out, she flipped
28:29it
28:30upside-down onto a plate, and the fruit emerged glistening in a dark caramel glaze that had formed
28:37against the hot iron. A can of pineapple cost about a quarter, and turned a plain cake into the
28:44centerpiece of the table. The skillet was essential because only that even heavy heat could caramelize
28:52the sugar into that perfect amber layer without burning. It looked like far more effort than it was.
28:58This was the cake that made a sundae feel special, and it has quietly slipped off the American table
29:05into the pages of forgotten cookbooks. Number four, skillet peach cobbler.
29:12In peach season, your grandmother poured a simple batter into a buttered cast iron skillet, spooned
29:19sweetened fresh peaches over the top, and baked it until the batter rose up and around the fruit into a
29:25golden, bubbling, crackling-edged cobbler. The iron browned the crust where nothing else could, giving the
29:32bottom and sides a crisp, buttery snap against the soft, syrupy peaches. A basket of peaches from a roadside
29:42stand cost almost nothing at the height of summer, and this turned them into the dessert everyone
29:48remembered for the rest of their lives. She served it warm, straight from the skillet, sometimes with a
29:55pour of cream over the top. The smell of baking peaches and butter meant sundae was ending well.
30:02Cobbler was the perfect country dessert, forgiving and cheap and impossible to ruin, built entirely
30:10around the skillet that every kitchen already owned. We buy pie from a case now. Almost nobody bakes a
30:18cobbler in iron anymore. Number three, smothered chicken. This was how a quarter's worth of meat fed a
30:26full table. Your grandmother took a cut-up chicken, browned every piece hard in the skillet, then pulled
30:34them out, built a gravy from the drippings, flour, and broth, laid the chicken back in, covered the pan,
30:42and let it simmer low until the meat fell off the bone into the rich, thick gravy. Even an old
30:49stewing
30:50hen, tough as rope, turned tender and succulent under that slow, covered heat. Served over rice, the gravy
30:59stretched one modest chicken across eight or nine plates. This was Sunday dinner for families who could
31:06not afford a roast, and it tasted like far more than they paid. The smothering technique, browned then
31:14simmer under a lid, was the beating heart of cast iron cooking, turning the cheapest bird into a feast.
31:20It fed generations across the south and never once needed a recipe written down. We lost it when the
31:28whole rotisserie chicken made it too easy to stop trying. Number two, cast iron buttermilk biscuits.
31:36Long before the pop open can, your grandmother made biscuits by hand every Sunday, and many baked them
31:43right in the cast iron skillet, edges touching so they rose tall against each other. She cut cold lard
31:50or butter into flour with her fingers, barely stirred in buttermilk, and pressed the soft dough out gently,
31:57because she knew overworking it made them tough. Nestled into the hot greased skillet,
32:03they baked up with crisp brown bottoms and pillowy, flaky insides that pulled apart in layers.
32:11A batch cost pennies and appeared at nearly every meal, but on Sunday they were the vehicle for gravy,
32:19for honey, for fried apples, for sopping up every last drop on the plate. The skillet gave them a bottom
32:26crust no baking sheet could match. These biscuits were pure skill, made by hands that had done it 10,000
32:35times without measuring. That skill has almost entirely vanished, traded for dough in a tube that will
32:43never taste the same. Number one, cast iron fried chicken. This was the crown of the Sunday table,
32:52the meal that meant more than any other, and it lived and died by the skillet. Your grandmother soaked the
33:00chicken in buttermilk, dredged it in seasoned flour, and lowered it piece by piece into a skillet of hot
33:08lard, where it fried up into the crispest, most golden crust ever created, sealing in meat so juicy,
33:16it ran when you bit it. The heavy iron held its heat steady even when the cold chicken went in,
33:24which is the entire secret, because a lesser pan dropped in temperature and turned the coating
33:30greasy and pale. She cooked it in batches, never crowding the pan, turning each piece with care,
33:37filling the whole house with a smell that pulled the family toward the table and the neighbors toward the
33:45window. Fried chicken was Sunday. It was church and family and the best the week had to offer all in
33:52one skillet. It cost a fraction of what a restaurant charges today and it was better because it was made
34:00by hands that loved you. Here is my challenge. Make one of these this week. Just one. The skillet cornbread,
34:08the fried apples, the smothered chicken. Then sit down at the table, not in front of the television,
34:15and eat it slow. Drop the one you are going to try in the comments because these were never just
34:21Sunday dinners. They were how a whole country said I love you without ever having to say a word.
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