We ordered a pound of brisket, ribs and a hot sausage. The Cutter sliced off thick slices of beef brisket and chopped off a few meaty ribs from a slab, placed it on pink butcher paper and handed it to the older man who weighed it.  A hot sausage was added along with three extra sheets of butcher paper that would serve as our plates. The cashier charged my son’s credit card.   

We took our order and quickly exited the dark room. We found an empty six-foot-long table with folding metal chairs in the front of the restaurant to sit. Aiesha went to order some side dishes and drinks as we sat down. She came back with three slices of white bread, some potato salad and baked beans in white 12-ounce Styrofoam food containers, pickles, three cans of cokes, and plastic spoons, forks, knives, and napkins. 

 We each took a piece of the pink butcher paper and placed it in front of us. Then we each took a piece of meat from the pile in the center of the table and used the plastic forks to dip potato salad onto our paper plates. This truly was a no-frills dining experience. And our Everett and Jones Barbeque customers used to complain about the Dixie paper plates we served our BBQ on in the 1970s and 1980s before we made enough money to upgrade to Styrofoam, three compartment containers.  Here we were literally eating off paper in 2025.  

The meat was good and tender. I noticed the sign on the table that said please leave the BBQ sauce on the table but there was no sauce on the table. So, I asked for sauce and the nice young man brought a bottle over to our table.  I am team BBQ sauce! I tried some of the sauce on a piece of my beef.  It was tangy.  I believe a good BBQ sauce can set you apart from other BBQ restaurants. This sauce was just ok. I did as the sign said and left the sauce on the table.  

Not only do I BBQ for a living, but I BBQ every chance I get in my backyard when the weather is good. In California we have exceptionally pleasant weather, so meat cooked over fire with wood is kind of my thing. I know that different does not make a thing better.  It is simply different, and we are free to, like whatever we like, and variety is the spice of life. 

 BBQ cultures and traditions have co-existed for centuries and I am sure they will continue. It is one of the oldest forms of cooking and it's not going anywhere. From this Black woman’s perspective and based on my lived experiences working in my family’s 52 years old barbeque restaurants I have learned that you do not have to minimize another culture's differences and traditions to elevate your own.  

The romanticized version of Texas BBQ as the gold standard that has flamed across the country, and pit itself against other cultures is quite different from the Black BBQ culture I grew up in on 7th Street in West Oakland, California in the 60’s. The Texas BBQ and culture I experienced on my birthday trip was good but to each its own and that is the point!  

By Shirley Everett-Dicko

By Shirley Everett-Dicko

By Shirley Everett-Dicko

A Slave Named Jenny ​

​Blues singer Charles Brown became a part of our family.  His record “Please Come Home For Christmas” would be played on repeat from Thanksgiving Day throughout Christmas Day. If you ask any one of the grandchildren they can sing the entire song including the lead guitar instrumental interlude. It is seared in our brains. There was a time when we’d cover our ears trying to escape; now we can’t wait to hear it played to signify the beginning of the season.

​My earliest memory of Christmas was the smell of Sweet potato pies baking in the oven, Charles Brown bellowing “Please Come Home For Christmas”, grandma in the kitchen, aunts, cousins, friends, and friends of friends all crowding in my grandmother’s 2000 sq. ft. home.  This is how we spent Christmas growing up. Those were the good ole days that I thought about while serving overseas in the Navy and what I think of now as I live in North Carolina with my own family. It was always a special time for me and our Everett & Jones Family.

It wasn’t just because of the gathering it was also because the restaurants were closed and that was a reason to celebrate. They were only closed two days out of the year-Thanksgiving and Christmas. It was one of two times when we didn’t have to worry about what was going on at the restaurant, or who would go and lock up. We didn’t think about ribs, beef, chicken, or links (nor was it on our Christmas dinner menu). No one had to go and make sauce or get supplies. This was one day we could spend as a family, and you could feel the sense of relief in the air.

But while everyone else was relaxing there were still a faithful few who were busy working away in the kitchen to help prepare the Christmas dinner. Dinner most often consisted of Turkey, Ham, cornbread dressing, gravy, cranberry sauce, yams, green & cabbage, cornbread, Auntie Angie’s Macaroni and cheese, Auntie Helen or May’s Banana Pudding, grandma’s delicious sweet potato pies, and my little cousin Auzerais’ infamous cookies and cupcakes. Ever since she was little Auzerais started baking cookies and cupcakes to share at Christmas dinner. Let’s just say that they were desserts that only a mother could love–and eat. 

​I know that every family thinks that theirs is special, but mine really is. I have seven aunts: Virginia, Dorothy, Shirley, Mary, Helen, Katie, and Angie, one uncle Allen, my grandmother, and of course, my parents Annie Pearl Everett Jones and James Jones, who started the chain of Everett & Jones Barbeque restaurants in 1973 in the middle of a recession. Someone forgot to tell my family that you don’t start businesses in the heart of recession, but they did it anyway and beat the odds. They took the same tenacity to make Christmas a special time for us.

I’m the second oldest grandchild behind my cousin Lamont (Monty), who is only 5 months older and I remember the good ole times around Christmas. When I was younger, I remember going to grandma’s with my family: my mother, father, brother (James Jones Jr. aka Scooter), and little sister LaShaun in our pajamas. The plan was for the entire family to spend the night on Grandma’s living room floor while waiting for Santa Claus to arrive. I could hardly wait until everyone was there because that’s when the real fun began. Every cousin came wearing the same smile, the same twinkling eye- the same excitement. No one ever complained about being there.  We’d make bed pallets on the living room floor with our blankets and pillows. The Aunties would hang around with us initially playing games, and making us laugh, but slowly migrate into the kitchen with grandma leaving us grandkids to entertain ourselves. It never failed that a grown-up would threaten to light the fireplace so Santa could not come down causing us to sing in unison NOOOOOO!

On a few occasions, they would get one of the employees to dress up like Santa and come through the door yelling, “Merry Christmas!” We weren’t fooled though because they always smelled of smoke- like they’d just gotten off work. “That’s Red” someone would yell, or “Russell.”  My mother even dressed as Santa one year, I guess she thought she could do a better job than the men, but she didn’t because my sister gave it away when she started crying, “Mama.” But hey, she tried.

Right when we were about to fall asleep one of the aunts would come through the door after working the late shift at the restaurant. They would still be wearing a dirty red or black apron, smeared makeup up, and a charred-smelling afro. Nothing says Christmas in the Everett & Jones family like Charles Brown, Sweet Potato pie, and a charred-smelling Afro.

​Just like the restaurants, Grandma Dorothy Turner Everett, Head Chief in Charge, also headed this kitchen crew in her home. She was a hard-working woman, who never stopped. Grandma could always be found in the kitchen either sitting at the table picking the meat off of cooked chicken necks and gizzards for her homemade dressing, or stirring in one of several pots. By the time we’d arrived she had accosted plenty of help in the kitchen. One was chopping bell peppers, onions, and celery, another peeling mounds of sweet potatoes, while another was trying to stay on top of the dirty dishes that were rapidly piling up. This was often Auntie Katie’s job and she’d fuss the whole time. If you were smart you stayed clear of the kitchen because they would quickly find you something to do.

Grandma had managed to cook about 30 sweet potato pies by Christmas Eve, which were strategically placed throughout the kitchen and dining room so she could watch them. She’d only let us eat the “ugly ones” on Christmas Eve, ones that were burnt around the edges or had either gotten damaged during the process.

As some things changed others never did.  Someone is always coming through the door with a dirty apron, a smeared smutted face and charred Afros, jerry curls, or a weave in this family. There are always Sweet Potato pies scattered throughout somebody’s kitchen and dining room and The last time at Grandma’s house, Auntie Katie was still fussing about washing dishes, and Auntie Helen still carted away leftovers in Tupperware dishes.  However one thing did change, my cousin Auzerais no longer serves us indescribable-looking cookies and cupcakes. She went on to culinary school and received a Bachelor of Science degree in culinary science. We like to remind her that we endured the hard times together with her desserts. Through the process, we all smiled and encouraged her all the while inconspicuously discarding them in a napkin.  Look at her now Blondery  

​Eventually, the family grew too big to sleep on grandma’s floor and she kicked us out to sleep at our own homes and instead come the next day. We got too big to eat around the dining room table, kitchen table, and kids table, so they moved it outside under the extended carport at a 30 ft. long table, which was dressed for the festivities. We didn’t care where we ate, just as long as we're together. Eventually, we outgrew the carport and moved it to the Everett & Jones Barbeque restaurant in Jack London Square because it was the only place big enough to hold us.  

Now we’re all grown up with families of our own, and Grandma is no longer with us. Some of us are struggling to recreate the memories of the past, while others are taking on new ones. Let me encourage you to remember your family this year. We have everything we need to survive- Jesus Christ, good food, love, and family. Most importantly, let’s remember why we celebrate this season. No, it’s not because the restaurants are closed although that’s good too, but it is the fact that God loved us so much that He sent us a Savior that we might be saved. Grandma was good and did a wonderful job, but it is because of God’s grace and mercy that we are blessed beyond measure. Don’t take it for granted. It’s not just a cliché that He is the reason for the season because He is. We are family-the Everett & Jones Barbeque family. Merry Christmas family I love you.


Be Blessed,

Yvette Jones-Hawkins