by Paula Deen
I took a calculated risk to marry Michael. He was nine years younger than I, cared nothin’ about cooking but the eating, and he’d already had a failed marriage. But, you know what you know, and I trusted my heart. It’s by taking risks that we reap rewards, and Michael is some great prize and the love of my life.
Now, gambling, there’s a dumb risk. I confess that Michael and I both love to go to casinos. Still, you’d better believe I’m never going to put my last dime down on a bet and I don’t go thinking I’m going to win. I would never wager the house, utility, or grocery money. I’ll only lose what I feel like I can afford to lose, but I’ll put that last dollar of what I think I can afford to lose in the machine, knowing that this is going to be the big one.
There are people who don’t like excitement; they want a steady, predictable life and they don’t find that boring or unchallenging. I get off on stepping out on the plank and taking a risk, as long as it has a reasonable hope of succeeding. Here’s what I believe: sometimes when you crunch the numbers and figure every angle, the numbers will say something bad—but your gut says go for it anyway. In the end, I believe it’s stupid to take a dumb risk, but it’s stupider to pass up a calculated risk with a good chance of success.
Here’s what I think: you take the risk if you can live with the worst-case scenario you can imagine. If you write a book and it gets awful reviews, if you open a restaurant and it fails, if you go skiing and you break a leg, if you go to Italy by yourself and not one single person talks to you the whole time, if the man you ask out on a date says thanks but no thanks—will you just wither and die from disappointment or embarrassment? If the answer is yes, play it safe and don’t risk what you can’t live with. If the answer is no, go for it, girl. Otherwise, you might just drown in a sea of woulda/coulda/shoulda and for the rest of your life rue the day you didn’t give opportunity a shot.
This is not the best advice for everybody. But for me—? I’m not about settling for mediocre just to play it safe. My whole life I’ve taken risks that had a decent chance of paying off, and enough have paid off for me to continue doing so till the day I die.
DON’T EVER MESS WITH CHRISTMAS
If ever I’m tempted to go to a glamorous, exotic place for Christmas—just Michael and me—just in time I’ll remember the rule I made when I was very young: never mess with the holidays. Always be with the people you love, as many of them as you can round up.
After Bubba was born, Daddy always insisted we all spend Christmas together. He felt it was very important that children be in their own home and with their families at holiday time. As a result, I never saw how my Grandmomma and Grandpoppa Hiers decorated their Florida home, where they then lived, for Christmas. How could I be sure they even had a tree? It was nerverackin’.
So no matter what, I always got everyone nuts trying to get us home for the holidays, wherever we were: I can remember when Jimmy Deen and I had just moved to Savannah. I’ll tell you, I missed my hometown of Albany, Georgia, something fierce. By hook or crook, this Southern gal was going home for Christmas: I would get me and my kids and my husband to Albany. We’d been planning to leave Christmas Eve, but would you believe it started snowing early in the day and Savannah ended up with seven inches of snow! Jamie and my niece, Corrie, had gone ahead and were waiting for us in Albany. Now, Southern towns aren’t so good about preparing for snowstorms, and that half-foot of white stuff about shut down Savannah. Nothin’ was moving—not the automobiles, which had turned into bumper cars, not even the tourists. I was heartbroken. And I told Bobby and Jimmy, “We’ve just got to make it. I’ve got to be home for Christmas.”
All the kids were jumping for joy. When had they ever seen that much white powder from the sky? But me? I was devastated. Enjoy a Christmas so far away from my Aunt Peggy and people I loved? Impossible. But, next day, that Georgia sun came out shining, that old snow melted, and we did get home to Albany.
Afterward, I felt like such a brat. I promised my kids I’d try to enjoy snow the next time, maybe with a little powdered sugar on top.
One time, when my boys were still very little and we were living in Columbus, Georgia, we had seventeen inches of snow. That was really the first time I’d ever seen a snowstorm, and even I had to admit it was so gorgeous. My kids had the best time playing in that snow, and it was then I was first introduced to snow cream. I am telling y’all the truth, there is nothing better. We were all outside playing, and Ettie May, the housekeeper who lived across the street from us, hollered, “Come on over here, Miss Paula, and eat some snow cream.” I scooped up the fresh, cold, white powdery stuff and stuffed it in my mouth, and it was the best treat I’d ever in my whole life tasted. The last time it snowed on the Deen family was in New York around Christmastime a couple of years ago. I was filming my show and it began snowing. I went outside with a big old blue bowl and just filled it up with solid handfuls of snow (being careful to avoid the yellow snow from the passing parade of doggies!). I added a bit of sweetened condensed milk, a couple of spoonfuls of vanilla, mixed it together, and soon the whole crew and I were eating the best homemade snow cream ever invented. It was the sweetest Christmas present on the planet! Let your kids actually make a whole pot of the stuff—tryin’ out different-flavored snow, like lemon, melted chocolate, or even licorice snow! I promise you’ll have created the best Christmas memory ever.
The first Christmas memory I have is still my absolute favorite. I was five years old, and Bubba hadn’t been born yet. I was showered with presents. I got a bicycle and the Mary Hart-line majorette doll that I wanted so badly. It makes me smile to think about it. That Mary Hartline was so cool in her blue uniform dotted with pink flowers with a pearl in the center of each flower.
In our house there were always snow-white lilies, flickering red candles, pomegranate wreaths, and balls of kissing mistletoe. There was gold ribbon everywhere. Aunt Peggy taught me to make our Christmas more fragrant than any other time of the year by preparing a mix of fresh fruit peels (apple, pear, and citrus), apple cores, and bay leaves, plus a few ground-up cinnamon sticks. We’d simmer it all in some water on the stove for hours, bringing fragrance to our holiday home.
And I remember that we often had turducken for the holidays. A turducken is a turkey, a duck, and a chicken stuffed one inside the other. You have the butcher debone the turkey (except for the legs and the wings), the duck, and the chicken. You cut ’em down their backs, then you lay the turkey breast side down, the duck breast side down on top of the turkey, and then the chicken breast side down on top of the duck. You can choose to stuff the inside bird alone or slather stuffing on top of each bird. Then you take those birds and you pin and tie them back together so that it looks like only one big turkey and roast it for the richest, most impressive main dish ever.
The Christmas stocking was always the best part for me: I loved to dig for all the little gifts in it. Sometimes it meant a ring, a bracelet, or a small doll, but it always meant fruits and nuts. Oranges, apples, Brazil nuts, and walnuts were the stocking stuffers of choice when I was young. There was no end of bubble bath, perfumes, scratch-off lotto tickets, and fancy underwear. Today, I’m a bit older, but Christmas stockings are still my favorite part of opening presents, and I love buying the small stuff for my family’s stockings.
I so remember the last Christmas before I was married. I was seventeen and it was a bummer.
Momma always put up the tree one week before Christmas, and most of our presents were already wrapped and under the tree by December 23. One day, Momma went to the grocery store and I said to myself, This is the perfect time for me to go in there and look at all my gifts.
Very carefully, I snuck into the living room, opened every box with my name on it, pulled out the contents, and then slipped ’em back in their boxes. Carefully, and with a heavy heart, I put the ribbons back on. You would never have guessed that anybody had ever been in those boxes.
Well, when I got through lookin’, I was so angry. There was
nothing in none of those boxes that I really wanted. But I learned a valuable lesson: some things are better left wrapped. Some things need to be a surprise.
It was also the same Christmas that Momma went out and bought her own presents. I always knew Daddy would get Momma something, but Momma never got what she really wanted. So this one particular Christmas, Momma went out and bought herself everything she wanted, wrapped it, and put it under the tree. Lo and behold, this same Christmas, my daddy did a little bit better with his shopping. He’d bought her a mink stole, and a set of diamond wedding bands was hidden in the folds of that mink stole.
So, we get up Christmas morning, and I know what’s waitin’ for me, and that ruins everything. Momma, on the other hand, got gifts under the tree that she had bought herself, so she’s pretty excited. Well, she opens the first box, and it had a beautiful green negligee set that she’d bought, and she slips it on and she’s sittin’ there, lookin’ like a queen. Then Daddy pulls out this big box from behind the couch and hands it to Momma. She opens it, and it’s the mink stole with the diamond-ring bonus. Well, you’d think she’d be happy, but Momma felt so bad because she had bought herself these gifts, and then Daddy had gone out and bought her the world. What’s more, her gifts now so outweighed what her children had gotten. Still, I can remember her sittin’ there in the living room wearing that negligee with the new fur wrap right on top of it.
For a lot of reasons, none of us was real happy. I had the feeling that if I only hadn’t looked at my presents, they would have magically been a lot better. Momma was so embarrassed that she’d one-upped Daddy, but I must admit she still enjoyed every bit of the fur, and the diamond rings, which Jamie’s wife, Brooke, now proudly wears.
I personally never again opened a Christmas gift before its time. Some things are worth waitin’ on.
The last few Christmases, Michael and I have been either moving in or out of a house, so we especially appreciate Christmas with our family in our own home, just like my daddy always knew was the best kind. I do love this holiday easily as much as I did when I was a little girl, although I’ve got to say, I haven’t gotten a Mary Hartline doll in years. Are you listening, Michael?
New Year’s is a special holiday of its own, but I always think of it as an extension of the Christmas season. I don’t want you to think I’m flaky and woo-woo superstitious, but when that holiday week rolls around, I can’t help but be true to the memory of my grandfather Paul, who was a very superstitious man, especially around Christmastime. For instance, I was never allowed to have the goldfish I desperately wanted because he thought they were bad luck. Black cats were no friends to him, and you couldn’t get him to walk under a ladder if there was the finest steak and a bottle of Jack Daniel’s on the other side of it waitin’ for him. And, Lord knows, we kids knew better than to open an umbrella in the house.
Today? My whole family usually makes it to my house on Christmas, and also New Year’s Day, where I burden them with some superstitions of my own. Even if they hate and despise greens, they’ve got to have at least one bite of turnip greens, so they’ll have financial success all the next year. I always serve the greens along with rice and black-eyed peas with hog jowl, because we Southern dames are sure the black-eyed peas bring luck and, believe it or not, those hog jowls promise health.
There is just no way I’m going to mess with Christmas, especially with my first grandbaby, Jack, on his way as I write this book.
STINKIN’ THINKIN’ … GET OUTTA HERE
Finally, I’m throwin’ all my stinkin’ thinkin’ out the window. Sometimes that old fear comes back a little—and a little is a lot. But instead of preparing for the worst and worryin’ about what might happen—I’m thinkin’ cool and positive these days.
My little Jackpot will be here by the time you’re readin’ this. Today he’s in his mother’s belly being prepared for entry into a complicated world. Along with his parents, I want to help give him wings, as my own grandparents did for me. I want to arm him with an education, because I could not give it to my sons. I’ve already got his miniature cooking set in there waitin’ for him to make flapjacks. I want to give Jack not only the recipes that he’ll cook one day but the recipe for a fulfilling, people-lovin’ life. I want him to be in love with that life, want him to have passion for his work and respect for the American Dream and its promises.
The idea that I’d have my own television show and fans who would love me from all over the world, not just from Albany, Georgia, was a concept I wasn’t even ready to grasp when I started. Fame! It’s swell. Now even Michael can’t go anywhere without being swamped by fans. Sometimes when Michael and I have to go somewhere and it’s a bad hair day and I look like hell, I try to hide behind sunglasses. But walkin’ around with that man is like walkin’ around with a turd on your forehead—you just can’t stop people from starin’ at him. I’m always gettin’ outed by Michael.
I’m only kidding. The fact that my restaurants did succeed and offered recognition and financial security to me and my family is such a blessing. The security alone is like what a doctor’s family enjoys. For this little southwest Georgia girl to think she could earn what a doctor could earn was an insane goal! To think that I’d be able to go on any trip I wanted, to think I could live by the water’s edge and see the dolphins jump right in front of my porch, to think that I could buy my first grandchild a pony, which is what I’m fixin’ to do as soon as I finish writin’ this book—well, what’s that worth?
Only everything. Even if his father yells at me for spoiling him.
Pony? Scratch the pony. My little Jack’s getting a whole horse.
And, we are lookin’ forward to so much. First of all, I want to meet more and more of my precious fans. I just love them and when I can hug a reader of one of my books or a watcher of my shows, it makes my day. I’ve never, ever had one bad encounter with a fan. They’re very much my kind of people; I seem to always feel like I live their lives and they’re livin’ my life, right along with me.
And, somethin’ else is about to happen to the Deen family that puts awe in my heart. We’ve started to allow our names to be put on certain great products that we love to use in our own home. My name sittin’ on your kitchen counter!
Our family grows. Bubba is getting married again, to our darling Dawn. His daughter, Corrie, introduced them! Dawn is so much a part of our crazy family already and the knots in her head fit the holes in his.
Michael and I are looking forward to more grandchildren, and our two families today continue to grow and blend—not effortlessly, but steadily, because we are all mindful of the way words—both happy and hurtful words—weigh heavily.
It takes my breath away to realize that I was right in sayin’ if you work hard enough, you probably can be anything you want. Our family is eternally grateful that we definitely need each other. If we had each gone off in different careers, the love would still be there but not so much the need for each other. I love the need—although it ain’t always simple.
Bobby Deen said it just fine one day:
“The best thing about our business is being able to be with our family so much,” he said. “The hardest thing about our business is having to be with family so much,” he concluded.
We sure learned that when you’re in the heat of family survival, it’s like fighting a war, not just a battle. But then comes the day when you can step back and look out on what you’ve accomplished together and say, “This is ours, ours, and it feels so damn good.”
Our thinkin’ is sweet these days. We made it … so far. But I can’t rest completely easy. You never can be too sure that success or happiness will last forever.
So, no stinkin’ thinkin’ from me, I promise y’all. Jack Deen—come on over here for a big hug from your grandmomma. You don’t know grits yet about how good it gets.
Index
agoraphobia, 55-57
Albany, Georgia:
childhood memories of, 7-12, 17-18
racial unrest in, 9-10
River Bend in, 7, 15, 18, 228
Albany High School:
integration of, 11-12
Paula as cheerleader in, 12, 21-22, 89
Senior Superlatives, 21
Albany Movement, 10
Anderson, Robert, 87
Anderson, William, 10
The Bag Lady:
Bobby’s jobs with, 83, 85, 111
first Halloween, 84
and Health Department regulations, 72-74, 75
Jamie’s jobs with, 77-78, 81-83, 84-85, 87-89
making it work, 84-86, 87-89
profits of, 83, 228
start of, 70-75, 79-81, 228, 254, 269-70
underpants as hairnets in, 84-85
Baked-Savannah Alaska (recipe), 61-62
Banana Nut Frosting (recipe), 189
Beef Stroganoff (recipe), 95-96
Berendt, John, 128, 129
Best Damn Blueberry Muffin You’ll Ever Eat (recipe), 208
Best Western, Savannah, 87-89, 233
Bobby and Jamie working in, 240-42