I never knew my grandparents. I have no memories of times together or visits or special presents.
Enticing aromas have been coming out of Room 121 in the Education and Human Sciences Building on the Mississippi University for Women campus.
Boiled custard is just plain good. It seems to be another one of those delights that have gone out of fashion in the past few decades.
Over the holidays I ran into a friend of mine who told me about one of her Christmas presents -- a Himalayan salt block.
Parade magazine may have stolen my thunder this past Sunday, but I'm going to talk about latkes anyway.
At a reception held at the Rosenzweig Arts Center during the most recent Decorative Arts Forum I could hardly tear myself away from the table where a huge bowl was stacked with twisted strips of brown sugar bacon.
Matzoh ball soup is on my mind today for two reasons: The fall weather brings cold nights and thoughts of hot soup, and one of my oldest friends came through town and spent the night with Terry and me.
The Hitching Lot Farmers' Market in Columbus has officially closed for the season.
Recently I went through my five cookbook shelves (each with about 50 books) and took some to the library for the book sale.
In Columbus, I have noticed what I consider a high number of beekeepers and honey gatherers.
Now that you've cooked all of your sweet potato leaves with last week's recipes, it's time to get to the tuber itself.
I'd said I was going to write about sweet potatoes for this week. They are everywhere right now and very important to Southern cooking. However, I have come across references to cooking with sweet potato leaves twice in the past week so thought that this is a trend we in the Golden Triangle can jump on and leave kale far behind.
I was a little north of Columbus last weekend and found the farmers' market in Jasper, Alabama. We picked up some delicious corn, little yellow squash that were so tender, some habanera pepper jelly (can't wait!), a few cucumbers, some tomatoes (not quite prime) and a jar of chow chow.
My husband, Terry, reminds me weekly that we don't eat enough garlic.
My Terry can spot a wild muscadine or scuppernong from a mile away.
Last Saturday I was a late volunteer at the Hitching Lot Farmers' Market. That is, I arrived at 8:30 a.m. to stay until time to pack up the coffee and tables, around 10. I was delighted to see how busy things were when I arrived.
Figs seem to have such a short season here. Between the birds and the hot weather, their time in our area is fleeting. When I see them at the Hitching Lot Farmers' Market, as I did last week, I snatch them up and figure out what to do with them later.
A few nights ago at a reception I tasted a bright and fresh-tasting cucumber soup that Fred Kinder had brought. It was served from a pitcher and poured into clear plastic shot glasses.
I have become hooked on throwing fresh cherry tomatoes into some olive oil in a skillet and adding whatever to make a sauce for whatever.
Yahoo! Summer is still here. The Hitching Lot Farmers' Market is still thriving and bursting with color, conversation and culinary promise.
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