Our Thanksgiving Tradition: The Best Fried Turkey on the Gulf Coast
- Karen Hand Allen
- Nov 21, 2025
- 7 min read
Updated: Nov 24, 2025
It’s that time of year; Thanksgiving’s just days away and I’ve settled into planning what we’re doing this year for our dinner. I know the house is decorated and just how the Thanksgiving table will look.
It’s just past my birthday and I’m still dreaming about the delectable chocolate cake with mouthwatering buttercream, thinking we might have that again, but the kids all shut that down. Nada, Thanksgiving is for pies and gooey bars. We have deserts and appetizers out the kazoo planned
We had gathered in our backyard, which is the Gulf overlooking West Bay and the Intercostal Canal with tugs and boats working the waterway, oblivious to our shenanigans. Sitting back in Adirondack chairs, we always got a little loud, well-wishing and glad to see each other, happy that the insufferable heat was at our backs. Gone but not forgotten. Heat really never is totally gone in this part of the south, on our charming island just off Galveston, Texas. In October, near my birthday, it starts to turn cooler, and as a little girl, I decided God had a hand in that, it was a kind of early present for me.
Before the others had gotten there, I’d gone to the kitchen, seeing over a hundred cookbooks, perched on a stool, carefully balancing on the wooden platform, searching for, and eventually finding my Mama’s oldest cookbook, The American Family Cookbook by Lily Wallace, 1953.
I’d pored over it, had a trip down memory lane. Mama got it when I was eight, shortly after my adoption. Daddy bought it for her birthday. She was pleased as punch, smiling like a cat who ate the canary. Or is it the cream?
I remembered getting home from school, racing and reaching into the cookie jar for an after-school snack. It was usually chock-full having been replenished either by Virgie or mama. On that day, it was low, way low. Trying to do the math, I ciphered and ciphered, I was sure that with us five kids mowing through it, someone was going to come up short and I declared right then, it wouldn’t be me. I had been beat out before, on blonde brownies. That really smarted. They were the extra chewy ones with chunks of semi-sweet chocolate. My mouth started watering to beat the band. Better get on inspiring Mamma to whip up one of her special snacks together before somebody got hurt, bad.
Let’s see, that day we thumbed through the thick book looking for cookies, and there were lovely ones, thumbprints, sugar, butter, double chocolate chip. Some funny ones too, chocolate robins, hermits, peasant cookies, cola date drop cookies. Things change but some things never change much, not really. A little butter, flour, and sugar escaped the jar, making its way to my nose where I inhaled the delightful scents that swamped my taste buds. That day Mama wanted lemon cookies which were a basic sugar cookie recipe with lemon juice. We made dozens and filled our old-fashioned cookie tin past overflowing. It was an almost gallon container of clear glass with a screw-on top. It cleverly said, Cookies in red letters across the front. No mistaking what was in it. I used to dream about those cookies. Sometimes I opened the top and butter, or brown sugar or orange or chocolate smells charged out, smacking me with their enticing aside. I tore in, forgetting all about sharing and saving some for others.
I realized I was daydreaming again. Better plan Thanksgiving dinner, one of my favorite holidays. I took Mama’s old book outside to get everybody’s opinion. As I scooped it up, I realized it was getting fragile now, its pages yellow and flaking around the edges. I thumbed through it seeing her comments which warmed me beyond comprehension. I could hear her saying the words I saw there, “my favorite,” by a delicious looking pecan pie recipe. Another one just said, “Super.” A sturdy looking jumbo plastic paper clip marked the lemon meringue pie and sweet potato pie. I just wonder when she did it, all those years ago, taking time to note them in her beautiful handwriting, all the while juggling all five of us kids, daddy, and the café.
Towards the back of her book, I noticed a section called “Entertainment.” This was particularly interesting to me since we had so many meals over the years with other people, we hosted all the time. I could see where Mama got her ideas from. Clearly marked with ink, she rated them with stars, one through four. Bridge luncheon had a measly two stars, while New Year’s dinner was a three. The big holidays like Easter, Thanksgiving and Christmas dinner got fours. Looks like school box lunches and Halloween buffets were a single star. I felt such joy seeing her writing there, putting my fingers over each letter and comment, wondering what she must have been thinking when she put her thoughts to paper. She took such pride in everything she did, fussing over every detail for that special occasion, birthday, holiday, or supper.
I thought of all the beautiful Thanksgiving dinners that Mamma and Daddy served us. I would hear them planning for everything as they sat in their big easy chairs that dominated our living room.
“Now will you get the turkey, a big one, don’t you think, a twenty pounder or so? I will start the dressing tomorrow so it’s ready and can make the candied yams as well. I have six pounds of yams and can cook them, cool, and candy them so some of the prep work is done before Thursday. I’m making green bean casserole and our standard mashed potatoes.”
“Yes, I’ll pick it up tomorrow. We have numerous sides, so that should be good. I want a ham too. The kids are all growing so much, last year’s turkey was picked clean. Don’t want to lose a finger at dinner!” They laughed quietly and continued their murmurs. I was especially thankful for my family, my parents who always went above and beyond. They enriched my life immeasurably and we had such fun doing it.
I knew that after dinner we would relax, some of us dozing on couches in the den. At some point, dominoes would come out, then cards followed, we would be off to the races, keeping an exact count of who won the most. Those that did were not expected to do the dishes or swab down the floors. Strangely, none of us really seemed to mind cleaning up, I guess in large part since we were all together, glad to be a part.
Only us kids were expected to do chores in the kitchen. The parents laid low and Daddy watched football while Mama got out the encyclopedia, regaling us with questions about state capitols or science and math facts. We’d really get into it, sometimes arm wrestling if there was a tie.
Now to the present, I wandered out to the others, relaxing by the water, realizing that my family had kind of copied what we had for Thanksgiving dinner all those years ago with some minor alterations. While Mama baked hers, we usually fried the turkey and made our own cranberry sauce. Daddy loved the canned stuff, so Mamma didn’t want to change it. She had tried on occasion, but he rejected it, said it was too tart.
I made a grocery list, thinking of the platters, utensils and serving pieces of Mamas and Daddys I use every holiday, all of it with me still. This is for you.
Thanksgiving Buffet 2025:
Fried Turkey
Cornbread Dressing
Turkey Gravy
Homemade Orange Cranberry Sauce
Whipped Sweet Potatoes
Mashed Potatoes
Roasted Brussels sprouts
Broccoli Rice Casserole
Fried Shrimp & Oyster Appetizers
French Green Beans
Fruit Salad
Appetizers-stuffed celery
Sausage, Cheese tray
Deviled Eggs
Yeast Rolls
Gingerbread Men
Pecan Bars
Lemon Apple pie
Assorted Chocolates
Sweet Texas wine
Prosecco
Beer
Creole Fried Turkey
Recipe by: Karen Hand Allen (www.karenhandallen.com)
There’s nothing, and I mean nothing as delicious as a fried turkey. Hot off the fire, it must rest about fifteen minutes, and it’s the longest fifteen minutes in history! With crispy golden brown skin, luscious creole butter that runs from your lips, down the chin, it’s impossible to share the heavenly goodness, swooping gobs into your mouth before someone else does. It can turn into a real fight as she’s carved into light and dark meat, slices disappearing quicker than greased lightning. This Thanksgiving, try one for yourself, but watch for Uncle Bob or little Timmy, they’ll snare it as soon as it hits the turkey platter. And don’t expect leftovers, you’ll be wishing (with the wish bone) you fried another big daddy all for yourself!
Serves: 10-12 people
Prep Time: 20 mins | Cook Time: 45 mins | Rest Time: 15 mins | Total Time: 80 mins
Ingredients:
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Notes:
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