A couple of Sundays ago you may have thought I was really upset, but my tears were from some powerful onions that I was chopping to add to the jambalaya pot. One of our boys had just endured an intense weekend with his friends as they began to pledge a university social club, so I figured it was time for a pot of jambalaya—one of our family’s comfort foods.

Jacob, who lives on campus, showed up just before noon with a couple of his friends. Two other truckloads arrived shortly after. They played ping pong in the front room—a couple of years ago I traded the home décor for a ping pong table—while I warmed the French bread in the oven and tore up lettuce for the salad. When I gave the signal, Jacob took orders for sweet tea or water so that he and his brother, Lucas, could fix the glasses.

It wasn’t long until the breadbasket was nearly empty and one of the guys was heaping the last serving of jambalaya onto his plate. The jambalaya was delicious. But even better, the discussion was rich. As the boys laughed about events of the weekend, I felt like I was getting a privileged peak into their world.

If you have teenage boys, then you know that those peaks are rare. In the Greenhouse, the more hair that grew on the boys’ chest—or at least under their arms—the less words they used to describe their world. No matter how I try to craft a question about their day, they manage to answer it with one of their few default grunts. I’m left to interpret their whole world through a few phrases–“Good,” “I guess,” or “I don’t know,”–spoken without a hint of emotion in the inflection.

It’s different, though, when the same boys are passing the bread, serving jambalaya, or scooping ice-cream for dessert. Conversation happens. Especially when there is enough in the pot for friends at the table.

Maybe it’s the Louisiana spices working its voodoo on these West Texas boys.  Most likely, though, it’s the magic that happens when a family sits together around a table. The TV is off—not hard to do since the Saints rarely get airtime in Cowboy territory. Cell phones are in the pockets. We better talk or it’s going to be an awkward meal.

So, if you want to get past those monotone grunts from teenage boys, try a pot of jambalaya. Or any dish that is one of your family favorites. Create a family rhythm of gathering around the dinner table where conversation happens.

I hugged Jacob and some of his friends as they headed out the door for another week on campus. The pot of jambalaya worked its magic. It lured the guys to our neighborhood and we all connected through conversation around the table.

Now I’ve got to think about what’s for supper tonight.

What are some of your family favorites that bring your family together?