Generational Homestead Meals—What’s Been Passed Down, Preserved, or Reimagined?

Hey Permies,

I’ve been reflecting on the meals that carry more than flavor—those dishes rooted in memory, tradition, or necessity. Whether it’s something your grandmother canned every fall, a hearty stew that fed a crew after a long workday, or a recipe you’ve adapted to fit your climate and values, I’d love to hear about it even if considered a “struggle meal”.

What meals have stood the test of time on your homestead—or in your family’s story?

• Is there a dish you always make when the harvest comes in?
• Something you preserve every year because it just feels right?
• A recipe that’s changed with the land, the zone, or the people you’re feeding?
• Or maybe something you’ve reclaimed or reinvented to fit your current rhythm?

I’m especially curious how these meals shift across zones and generations. What crops do you grow to keep those traditions alive—or to build new ones?

Whether it’s cornbread cooked in cast iron, pickled okra from a Southern garden, or a wild-foraged soup that’s become your signature, I’d love to hear what’s on your table and in your memory.

Photos, stories, flops, flavor bombs—all welcome.

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I think all eight of my great grandparents moved from the land to the city. Neither of my grandmothers really knew much about cooking, and my grandfathers were helpless. The only thing I can think of like this is that my mom's mom's mom was sort of infamous for harvesting weeds in vacant lots in Los Angeles and making my mom eat them. My mom thought that was barbaric but her stories of it seemed like romantic adventure to me. So, even before I really started getting serious about wanting to change my life and move to a homestead, I started eating the weird plants that Euell Gibbons and Foxfire said were OK -- mostly as a 'mess of greens' in some fat. That's about it for multi-generational stuff for me. I guess there are lots of things Cathy and I make that our folks did, but we're better cooks than our forebears so a lot of it is pretty different.

Christopher Weeks wrote:I think all eight of my great grandparents moved from the land to the city. Neither of my grandmothers really knew much about cooking, and my grandfathers were helpless. The only thing I can think of like this is that my mom's mom's mom was sort of infamous for harvesting weeds in vacant lots in Los Angeles and making my mom eat them. My mom thought that was barbaric but her stories of it seemed like romantic adventure to me. So, even before I really started getting serious about wanting to change my life and move to a homestead, I started eating the weird plants that Euell Gibbons and Foxfire said were OK -- mostly as a 'mess of greens' in some fat. That's about it for multi-generational stuff for me. I guess there are lots of things Cathy and I make that our folks did, but we're better cooks than our forebears so a lot of it is pretty different.

Wow, I love how your great-grandmother’s “weed harvesting” turned into a kind of mythic adventure in your mind. That image of her gathering greens in vacant lots feels wild and resourceful in the best way—like a quiet kind of rebellion against forgetting.
I relate to that shift you described—from inherited disconnect to intentional reconnection. Sounds like you and Cathy are building your own kind of legacy—better cooks, maybe 🤔😂 , but still rooted in something real. That’s the kind of generational shift I admire: not just repeating, but reimagining.

I spent summer with my grandparents.

Creamed corn by cutting off corn off the cob, then scrape the cob to get out the milk.  I can only assume then adding cream and salt and pepper.

Fried cornbread.  Add hot water to cornmeal to the right consistency, make patties then fry in bacon grease.

Chitterlings:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chitterlings

I remember sitting out in the yard shelling purple hull peas.  Then having them for dinner.

I also remember peanut butter/banana sandwiches and carrot sandwiches.

My uncle sitting at the kitchen table eating and commenting on how good the onions were.  All I remember is a plate of sliced onions.

Watermelons on big tables in the backyard and spitting out the seeds ...

Out on the back porch was an old ice box.

Anne Miller wrote:I spent summer with my grandparents.

Creamed corn by cutting off corn off the cob, then scrape the cob to get out the milk.  I can only assume then adding cream and salt and pepper.

Fried cornbread.  Add hot water to cornmeal to the right consistency, make patties then fry in bacon grease.

Chitterlings:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chitterlings

I remember sitting out in the yard shelling purple hull peas.  Then having them for dinner.

I also remember peanut butter/banana sandwiches and carrot sandwiches.

My uncle sitting at the kitchen table eating and commenting on how good the onions were.  All I remember is a plate of sliced onions.

Watermelons on big tables in the backyard and spitting out the seeds ...

Out on the back porch was an old ice box.

Your memories hit me right in the soul. That creamed corn method—cut, scrape, season; is exactly how my people did it too. No measuring, just instinct and taste. And fried cornbread in bacon grease? That’s not just food, that’s heritage.
This is the kind of memory that makes me feel like I’m right there with you.
shelling peas in the yard, watermelon on the table, and that old ice box humming on the porch. Fried cornbread in bacon grease, That’s a whole mood. And carrot sandwiches? I didn’t grow up with those, but now I’m curious.
Grew up on collard sandwiches and wraps. Definitely southern soul food. It wasn’t fancy, but it was full of rhythm and  love.