By Tuesday dinners are the anchor of my week now. They were before Marcus died, but now more so—now they are the fixed point around which everything else rotates, the non-negotiable, the thing that happens regardless of how I feel or what the grief is doing on a given day. Tuesday dinner is Tuesday dinner. You put on your apron. You go to the church. You feed people. The purpose clears the static.
We had a new face Tuesday. A young woman, maybe twenty-five, with a toddler on her hip and another one walking beside her, and she came through the line looking at the food like she hadn't seen a table like this in a while. I serve the plates myself—I have always served the plates myself, because the moment of handing someone their food is a moment of connection, a hand-to-hand transfer of something that isn't just food, and I won't outsource it. I served her a plate of fried chicken, collard greens, mac and cheese, cornbread, and I put an extra piece of chicken on for each of her children without saying anything about it. She looked at the plate and then she looked at me and she said, "Thank you," and I said, "Baby, you're welcome, come back every week," and she nodded and I watched her sit down and settle the children and begin to eat.
I don't know her story. I don't need to know her story. Hunger doesn't require a story, and help doesn't need to be earned. That's Bernice talking through me, that's fifty years of watching my mother feed people without interrogating their need. You are hungry. There is food. Here is the plate. God bless you. Come back.
The greens this week were transcendent—I'm allowed to say that about my own cooking when it's true, which is rare enough that I note it when it happens. I don't know exactly what I did differently. More time, maybe. More vinegar, a touch. The smoked turkey neck was a good one. Sometimes the food knows something you don't and it shows up right in ways you couldn't have planned. That's grace operating in the kitchen. I've seen it a hundred times. I'll see it a hundred more.
The greens were the star on Tuesday, but it’s the grits I keep coming back to in my mind — the way something simple and humble can carry a whole room of people and make them feel held. Easy Cheesy Loaded Grits are that kind of dish: straightforward, generous, unapologetic about being exactly what they are. If you want to bring that same Tuesday-dinner spirit to your own table — the kind that says you are welcome here, sit down, eat — this is the recipe to start with.
Easy Cheesy Loaded Grits
Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 25 minutes | Total Time: 35 minutes | Servings: 6
Ingredients
- 4 cups water
- 1 cup stone-ground or quick-cooking grits
- 1 teaspoon salt, plus more to taste
- 1/2 teaspoon black pepper
- 2 tablespoons unsalted butter
- 1 1/2 cups shredded sharp cheddar cheese, divided
- 1/2 cup whole milk or heavy cream
- 4 strips thick-cut bacon, cooked and crumbled
- 2 green onions, thinly sliced
- 1/4 teaspoon smoked paprika
- Hot sauce, for serving (optional)
Instructions
- Bring water to a boil. In a medium saucepan over medium-high heat, bring the 4 cups of water to a rolling boil. Add 1 teaspoon of salt.
- Cook the grits. Slowly whisk in the grits, stirring constantly to prevent lumps from forming. Reduce heat to medium-low and cook, stirring frequently, for 20–25 minutes (or according to package directions) until thickened and tender.
- Add richness. Remove the pan from heat. Stir in the butter and milk or cream until fully incorporated. The mixture should be creamy and loose — it will continue to thicken slightly as it sits.
- Load the cheese. Stir in 1 cup of the shredded cheddar until melted and smooth. Taste and adjust salt and pepper as needed.
- Top and serve. Spoon the grits into bowls or a large serving dish. Top with the remaining 1/2 cup cheddar, crumbled bacon, sliced green onions, and a dusting of smoked paprika. Serve immediately with hot sauce on the side if desired.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 310 | Protein: 11g | Fat: 17g | Carbs: 29g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 520mg