My grandmother, a farmer’s wife, was unbeatable in the kitchen. She could cook like no one I have ever known. I have no idea where she learned this skill, certainly not from a culinary school. Sadly, I never asked her, during all those hours sitting at the red formica table in her kitchen, watching her roll out biscuits and pastry, or ice one of her many 3-layer cakes! She had just the right touch and taste to prepare a mess of southern dishes, both savory and sweet. She was a natural behind the stove, but more importantly, she loved bringing pleasure through her cooking.
A warm and fuzzy light bulb went off for me last week. It happened one evening when I returned home a little later than usual. My cat Twyla greeted me at the door wanting a belly rub, and then my son came over to give me a hug. Naturally, both were welcome exchanges after a long day. As I was basking in the tenderness of this “home sweet home” moment, Continue reading