Thanksgiving at our house this year was sort of a relaxed thing.   I learned something new, well, actually I learned a lot of new things when I got married. 

What I’m talking about here is a bit of southern tradition that I wasn’t so normally used to.

They do things right, when it comes to Thanksgiving and Christmas, down in the south.  And I’m thankful to say that some of that tradition made its way into our gatherings, here on the plains of Kansas.

I sort of lived in shock those first few gatherings down south.  It took some getting used to the fact that we weren’t going to escape each other for the whole day, and in some cases for two whole days. 

I’ll admit I was a bit cagey during those first few gatherings, trying to apply what I thought was proper protocol and all. 

Until I came to realize there wasn’t protocol. 

Not down south.

Nope.  As it so happened, I found out that instead of protocol, there was a kicked back atmosphere you could soak and warm yourself in as generally as you could that mild sunshine of those mid 80 degree Christmas days. 

I’ll never get the handle of how to apply that southern hospitality, but I sure aim to learn as much as I can about it in my lifetime. 

Because that southern hospitality rests easy on person; gives a feeling of well being you don’t find anywhere else excepting maybe when I slip on my raggedy old jean jacket that my wife expressly forbade me to wear some three years ago.  For some reason, I see the daughter in this house has taken a hankering to that jacket also, and I see her in it once in a while on a cold morning.  It makes for a pretty picture, not that I’m trying to get her married off or anything; just stating the facts.

I’m suspicious, though, that we may have improved a bit on the southern tradition this last Thanksgiving.

The day got started around 10:30 when the first fine folks arrived.  I hadn’t changed out of my everyday clothes yet, and as it happened, I never did get changed out of them.

We had your typical Thanksgiving meal, Turkey, sage dressing (the only kind worth eating) Ham, mashed potatoes, Turkey gravy, Ham gravy, broccoli cauliflower salad, (which I had to modify into smaller pieces; don’t like to eat small trees) sweet potato puff, graham cracker fluff, homemade buns, and some of the best pecan pie this world has ever seen on a table.  (Don’t ask me to describe that pie.  The ladies tend to take a bit of offense.)

And we hung around all day together, since it was a bunch of southern folks.  Some went geese hunting for a bit; some tended fussy children; some played a round or two of disc golf; some fed calves; some took walks, some set a puzzle, etc., etc.

Now my good wife was sharing with me a bit a few days before our gathering about what to serve for supper.  She said she guessed she would do like is often done and warm up what was left of dinner.

I had another suggestion, and she kindly took it.

I said, “Why don’t we save those leftovers for the week to come; we can get the same benefit out of them then as on the same day we ate them.” 

“Then what do you say we should have,” she asked.

“Shrimp Tacos.”

Being the wonderful wife she is, she got in harness with me, and we planned that way.

I wish I could take credit for those tacos.  Because, as I said earlier, I suspicion they may have started a bit of a new tradition among some of us.  At least I hope so.

But, I will give credit where credit is due, and that goes to my friend Jesse.  He was the one who told me all about them some months ago.

Here’s what you do.

Get some bacon and throw it on the grill.  Figure about one piece per taco.  Break it into bits when done.

Get the daughter of the house committed to help with the taco shells.  She’ll start with them a little before you start your process on the shrimp.  She’ll put them on a hot griddle, sprinkle a nice amount of cheese onto them, and once it starts melting, she’ll flip them over and press them down to sort of fry that cheese onto the shell.

Get your good wife to mix up a chipotle sauce.  Also get her or some of your guests to get some cabbage shredded.

Get the guys around to help get the shrimp thawed.  You want the uncooked, tailess, medium size.  Once it’s thawed, fill a gallon ziplock bag about ¾ full of them.  Do as many bags as you need for the size of your gathering.  Add four tablespoons of blackened seasoning to each bag and have the guys helping you slowly rotate and flip the bags while you discuss important matters of life.

Get your frying pan ready over a slow burner.  Get some gloves on, because the stuff will be too hot to handle if you do it right.  Get a guy ready with spatula, and another guy ready to catch the sauteed shrimp.  Pour olive oil into your pan so it covers the bottom.  Turn your burner up a bit and once the oil starts smoking, throw your first batch of shrimp in.  Turn your burner up all the way.  It needs to be hot enough to where those shrimp are back to jumping and playing just like they did in the deep blue sea.  Get the guy with the spatula to keep them from burning on. Three minutes is too long.  Pull them off before that. 

And then go in, once it’s all sauteed and your face is on fire from the seasoning, all of you are huffing and coughing, and the nearby vehicles are plastered with oil spackles that take a long time to wash off.

Oh yes, have some limes on hand. 

And the good thing is, shrimp tacos don’t fill you up.  Eat four of them.  Or six. 

Finish it out with leftover pecan pie. 

Good ole southern hospitality and cookin.’ 

Once you find it, you are never the same.