The Eating Chambers shares lessons from the Bolden’s table

What’s up, my Eaters!

I hope you are all well. I’ve been busy trying to scale Pink’s Barbecue. It’s a little too early to share details, but I’m excited and can’t wait to tell you more soon. For now, I’ll just say this—you can expect to see us in more markets in the coming weeks.

This week I want to share an experience that truly touched my heart and blessed me. Part of the reason it impacted me so deeply is because it was a first for me. When you’ve been cooking and serving people as long as I have, it’s pretty special when something new crosses your path. I try never to take those opportunities for granted.

Recently, a fellow columnist, Margarette Coleman, hired me to prepare dinner for her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Clarence Bolden, on their 58th wedding anniversary. I had never cooked for such a milestone. I remember commenting to Margarette how blessed she must feel coming from such a legacy, and she agreed. In today’s culture, marriage can seem so disposable that I was genuinely excited to serve a couple who, in my opinion, are living proof of a tradition that is rapidly disappearing. I was honored to cook for them.

Mr. Bolden had already chosen the menu, so I didn’t have to worry about planning or shopping. That allowed me to focus on creating an experience.

On the day of their dinner, I arrived around lunchtime. Mr. Bolden greeted me at the door—warm and attentive—which helped settle my nerves as I took a few minutes to acquaint myself with the space. It was a modest country home, fitting for a couple married nearly six decades. I was immediately impressed with how well-appointed their kitchen was; they had everything I needed and more. I’d never experienced that outside of my own kitchen, and I told them so.

Mr. Bolden mentioned early on that he needed to run to the store for a few remaining ingredients. While he waited for Mrs. Bolden, we talked as he alternated his attention between me and the movie he was watching. We covered a lot in a short time. He brought me into their world just enough—and I wasn’t mad about it.

He told me about his wedding day and gushed over his family, proud of his children and grandchildren and all they were doing. He walked me through family photo albums and showed me their original wedding photos. He spoke about his time as an attorney and the tax office he currently owns. He also shared that their house was built in 1921 by Mrs. Bolden’s grandfather.

That amazed me. To celebrate your 58th wedding anniversary in the house your grandfather built is a testimony all by itself. But what struck me even more was that Mrs. Bolden’s grandfather—a Black man—owned property in Coweta County, in the Jim Crow South, in 1921, and that property is still in the family over a hundred years later. What an incredible legacy and picture of generational stewardship. I was even more motivated to make my contribution to their story just as special.

After some time, Mrs. Bolden emerged—a petite and mild-mannered woman. We introduced ourselves, and she retreated to her previous spot in the house. She was soft-spoken but carried a quiet presence. A few minutes later, they gathered their things, instructed me to make myself at home, and left for the store.

When they returned, Margarette stopped by to say hello. Watching her interact with her parents was a joy. Margarette is typically very stoic, so I appreciated seeing her relaxed and in her element. I listened as they chatted, joked, and doted over Margarette’s dog, who was clearly a beloved member of the family.

At some point, Mr. Bolden walked over and handed me a dozen fresh eggs from a friend’s chickens. He said they were a small token of their appreciation. I was floored. I have a deep appreciation for farm-fresh eggs and believe in always sending my own guests home with a gift or token of our time together. It was a simple gesture, but one that touched me deeply—especially since I was there for work. It spoke volumes about the content of their character.

After Margarette left, I wrapped up the finishing touches on their four-course lobster dinner. Just as I was preparing to serve, the power went out. The timing couldn’t have been worse. But Mr. and Mrs. Bolden stayed calm, taking it in stride, which kept me from panicking. After about twenty minutes the power was restored.

While we waited, I was struck by the fact that Mr. Bolden’s original plan had been to cook this menu himself. After fifty-eight years, he was still determined to cook for and serve his wife. That kind of devotion is more than admirable.

Once the power returned, it was time to serve. The menu included a mixed green salad, lobster bisque, roasted lobster tails, and a celebratory cake (which I did not bake) for later. It was a lot of food, and I was skeptical that they would make it through, but they did.

As they ate, I began cleaning up and preparing to leave. I listened as they exchanged stories, reminisced, and laughed together. Their bellies were full, and it was clear that after fifty-eight years of marriage they still relished new experiences and thoroughly enjoyed each other’s company.

Just before I excused myself, I heard them begin making phone calls to the people who had stood with them on their wedding day. I was amazed; I couldn’t relate. I’ve been married for less than twenty years and don’t have anyone I could call from that day. It was evident that this couple is rich in love—for each other and for the relationships they’ve cultivated over a lifetime.

Now, a month later, I’m still reflecting on that evening. It reminded me of the absolute power of the dinner table and the quiet lessons a faithful life can teach. Here are six truths from the Boldens’ fifty-eight years together that we can all carry with us:

• Keep family and loved ones first. These are the relationships that ground us, shape us, and stand the test of time.
• Be generous. Whether it’s a plate of food, fresh eggs, or a note of encouragement, give something that lets others carry the memory of your time together.
• Tell stories. Our conversations help us remember where we’ve been and give direction to where we’re going.
• Laugh often. It is the medicine of life.
• Protect your legacy. Do things today that your family and loved ones can benefit from long after you’re gone.
• Share good food. A meal is always richer when enjoyed with others.

Eaters, may the rest of your week be full of laughter, love, and good food. And if you’re nearby, come see me and my team any Saturday at the Peachtree City Farmers Market—we’d love to share a taste of that same spirit of generosity with you.