My name is Christine, and I am a Foodie–that is, I love to cook and learn about other food traditions, as well as to celebrate the time honored cooking of the South. As any self respecting addict would do, I blame my childhood for that.
Specifically, the school year afternoons and long summer days spent in my Granny’s kitchen. Ninetyeight percent of my memories with my Granny took place there. For that reason, there are smells, like that of baking fruitcake or chicken and dumplings, and sounds, like the clammer of aluminum pans or hand mixers, that take me back there, to the place where I became me. It wasn’t that the Cream of Wheat was cooked just right in the mornings, although it was. And it wasn’t that chicken cooked on her stove was tastier than any other. It was the sound of Granny humming while she cooked, and actually feeling and tasting the love that went into everything that came out of that kitchen. Soup when someone was sick, platters of fudge and fruitcake at Christmas time, after school snacks more special than the dinner served in many households today. Not expensive, but special.
And the smells, the constant barage of smells. I respond to certain smells today like a junkie would to the site of a crackpipe. As I got older, and especially when I started my own family, I felt the need to recreate the same feelings I had growing up. A happy home, a busy kitchen full of hungry kids–having them know inherently that everything I make them, I do with love. I learned from my Granny that when you cook with that sort of passion, you can taste it in the food.
Being a wife and mother has allowed me to teach the same lessons, as well as learn some new ones. Growing up with only sisters, I had little experience with boys, and I learn something new everyday mothering two of them.
I hope you enjoy my recipes as much as I did creating them, and my stories as much as I did living them….