To those I'm grateful for: Potato Bread with Cultured Butter (and a Giveaway!)

I wake up these days to a bed that belonged to my parents for fourteen years. There’s usually a dog breathing deep sighs in my ear. I found a ladybug on my lampshade when I grabbed for the cup of water on my nightstand. I couldn’t take a drink; everything felt contaminated for a second.

My mother bought lace and made curtains from them. My mother makes me coffee and keeps it warm in a thermos for me. My mother wrote me a note this week that told me she loved me and she’d miss me. She called me on her lunch break to makes sure I was staying warm. “California is pretty hot, isn’t it?” she said between bites of her sandwich. “Don’t want you to freeze because your father’s too cheap to buy more gas.”

I didn’t freeze. I’ve worn two pairs of socks in the house; but I haven’t frozen yet. Instead I spent a day ripping clementines with my fingernails. I ate a chocolate bar for lunch. I drank too much coffee and shared three beers with my dad. I forgot to blow out a candle and ate leftover pizza for two days. I’m letting the days pass me by for right now, I’m savoring it slowly. Letting it dissolve on my tongue like cotton candy, like the snow that gets stuck in my mother’s eyelashes, like the echoing “I love you” outside of Terminal A that hangs in my mind like a heartbeat going still.

I keep myself busy; I have to. I keep waking up from dreamless sleeps to the sound of a space heater and hardly anything else. I thought I heard the snow fall one morning, gentle and slumbering as my parents’ Labrador. It was just my mother running the water for dishes. I set four alarms and slept through them all. I still woke up at eight. The coffee in the Thermos burned my tongue and I kept my glasses on until noon.

I keep myself busy. Sometimes I think about the past. Who I used to be. How I used to build space ships from cardboard boxes and hold my breath in the bathtub, letting my ears pop and my heartbeat get louder until the soap got in my eyes or the water grew cold. I was alone a lot back then, awkward and closeted.  I didn’t have friends and it was easier to stay hidden indoors most days. I read a lot. I changed a lot, too.

But I’m back in the old farmhouse, with its closets too small and its ceiling fans won’t be dusted until the Spring. Since I last left, I’ve been a fiancé, unemployed, a law student, and an outpatient. I’ve had temper tantrums and an academic paper published. A few more nosebleeds and a few less wisdom teeth. I’m back to the old farm house and my parents still watch TV Land when they get home from work. Nothing’s changed but me here.

In the seven years since I have lived at home, I realized how desperately I need people. Connections, contact. Friendships. Relationships. People. I used to be so bad at saying I was sorry, I used to be even worse at saying anything nice. I’ve grown up in that way these last few years. I learned to appreciate the human conditions. That is why I feel so lucky to surround myself with good people, people I consider friends.  Friends who create bread lames and buy coffee for you while it’s raining in Philadelphia. This bread recipe is for them: the artists, the makers, the creators I call my friends: Aron Fischer of Facture Goods and Robbie and Pat of Dear Henry Owen. Aron created two gorgeous bread lames for me this Christmas and Robbie and Pat showed me how welcoming the East Coast can be, after so many years of being away from it. I made bread. I cultured butter. I made this bread for them.  They took the time for me.

Potato Bread with Cultured Butter

This bread is made in steps and you will have extra butter. Embrace it. The crumb is soft, the tanginess is there. My mother had three slices for dinner, so you know it’s good. Makes one loaf.

Ingredients for the cultured butter:

·      2 cups heavy cream

·      1-2 cups filtered water

·      ½ teaspoon salt

Directions for cultured butter:

1.     Measure out 2 cups of heavy cream and leave out at room temperature in a warm room for 12-48 hours (the longer the tangier)

2.     Every 4-6 hours, gently disturb the cream as a skin will form

3.     When you think you have a good culture in your cream, pour into the bowl of a stand mixer, fitted with a whisk attachment (I recommend freezing the bowl and the attachment for a good hour beforehand, as the cream will be warm/room temperature)

4.     Beat on medium-high for five to seven minutes. First, your cream will whip into stiff peaks. Keep beating as this breaks down and the solids separate from the buttermilk.

5.     Reserve liquids in a cup or Tupperware (this is cultured butterfat and it is golden) and push out anymore from the butter with a wooden spoon, turning and squeezing a couple times

6.     Wash the remaining butter with the water until water runs clear

7.     Salt, pat into a log and wrap in plastic wrap. Refrigerate until needed

Ingredients for bread:

·      2 medium-sized potatoes

·      2 TB cultured butter (above)

·      1 cup water, warm

·      1 cup of reserved buttermilk (from above), warmed slightly in a sauce pan

·      5 teaspoon yeast

·      1 ½ teaspoon salt

·      1 egg

·      4 ½ - 6 cups flour + more for kneading

Directions for bread:

1.     First, bake the potatoes. The easiest way to do this is in the microwave. Pierce potatoes with a fork 5-6 times and then microwave for 5 minutes. Flip over and repeat. Check for doneness by piercing with a fork. Inside should be soft.

2.     Cut lengthwise and allow to cool slightly before handling

3.     While cooling, in the bowl of a stand mixer, fitted with a paddle attachment, pour water, yeast, and salt. Allow to sit while bubbles form

4.     Spoon out potato into a bowl and add 2 TB cultured butter, mixing in the butter and ensuring it is melted (can be done in a food processor too). You will need one cup of this mixture

5.     When yeast is ready, add egg and beat on medium to incorporate.

6.     Add mashed potato mixture and beat on high for one minute

7.     Reduce speed to medium and begin adding flour by the cup.

8.     When dough begins to form and does not stick to the sides of the bowl, turn mixer off and turn onto a floured work surface

9.     Knead by hand for 5 minutes until springy

10. Place in a well-oiled bowl (turning once to oil the top) and cover. Allow to proof in a warm room for 1 hour or doubled in size

11. When hour is done, punch down and cover again. Allow to rest for 40 minutes

12. While dough is resting, preheat oven to 410*

13. When dough is finished resting, turn onto a floured work surface and shape into a ball before placing into a dutch oven.

14. Slash your bread with a razor blade or a bread lame in a couple lines at an angle

15. Put lid on Dutch oven and bake for 36 minutes covered

16. Remove lid and bake for an additional 5 to 8 minutes, or until top is golden

17. Remove from oven and allow to cool before eating with even more of the cultured butter

Giveaway Announcement!!

In the spirit of friends and giving, I am giving away a Sweet Tooth bundle from Remedy Quarterly, an independent food magazine that shares the stories behind recipes. There are two ways to enter: Either comment below with your favorite memory of "breaking bread" with loved ones and friends, or comment on this instagram photo and tag two friends with whom you would share your bundle prize. Winner will be announced on February 15 at 12:00 pm EST.

Traditions and Tahini Gingerbread Men (in collaboration with West Elm SD)

We are cookie makers and pie bakers. Stepsons and second marriages. We grew into these roles through years of calloused hands that held the hands of distracted women in the back rows of church. You can trace my family back to the 17th Century and they’ve always held the same thing close to heart: tradition for tradition’s sake, tradition to anchor themselves to some higher meaning than the myopic, the provincial. The utterly human qualities of my family that are somehow inescapable in our genome. My family is built on a tradition of never valuing what they have.

We are cookie makers and pie bakers. Bread bakers, too. I had a grandfather who drove trucks and brought home a crate of oranges that fell off a truck once. He said he liked being on the road, how it gave him an obligation to run away every week. He said he only came home to get his paychecks; he didn’t care much for his family then. My other grandfather was a farmer and described how to properly collect eggs one Christmas when I was rolling out some dough. He told me how to keep the hens from getting restless. Sometimes he played them music and sometimes he whistled to them. He said he wish he knew how to keep himself from getting restless, so he kept the radio on at night.

My uncles were called the Tanglewood Pretenders when they got it in their heads that they were descended from a lord in England. They were named so after the Baptist church on their grandfather’s farm. They told people in their town they were kings to some degree. They rode horses to help their own grandfather with his store in town and one fought in a war instead of being crowned. Now he’s married and works a desk job and the other hasn’t been seen for almost six years.

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Tradition. How we all grew up in the same chain link lots as our parents before us. Tradition when the fruit salad falls out of the fridge and the turkey is a little too dry. Tradition when the cake is eaten before the meal. Tradition is when we fight over scorekeeping during card games. Tradition so engrained in us that we can never seem to escape it. And we want to escape so bad sometimes.

This will be the first time I’m going home in four years to celebrate Christmas. The first time I’ll wake up to presents again. The first time I’ll see a tree decorated with the papier-mâché angel on top. The first time in four years that I’ll appreciate the tradition for what it is, for who we are, for what it all means to come from a long line of men who put food on the table and women who wanted to run away from it all. There is comfort in that inescapable reality and I’m facing it head-on next week. I’m ready. I’m waiting.

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I wish I knew how to keep myself from getting so restless.  So I’m trying to keep my home as enticing as possible. I’ve been baking cookies this week to keep busy, to keep distracted, to stay inside and not feel the need to run away. I created a hearth. I baked in that hearth. I made gingerbread cookies. Painted faces with crooked smiles from my shaky and unsure hand. I made a home this week, attempted to bring some holiday cheer while I think of all the traditions I didn’t value when I was younger.

I kept busy by making this cold bungalow in California feel like home.  I needed some help from West Elm. And while I’m still waiting for Christmas to get here, they’ve made the wait a little easier. I’m a little less restless. I’m a little more comforted by the traditions that I didn’t understand before.

Tahini Gingerbread Men (makes 36 cookies)

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Ingredients:

• 3 cups AP flour, sifted twice
• 1 1/4 teaspoon baking soda
• 2 teaspoon cinnamon
• 3/4 teaspoon ground ginger
• 1/2 teaspoon cumin
• 1/2 teaspoon allspice
• 1/2 teaspoon ground cloves
• Pinch of salt
• Pinch of pepper
• 6 tablespoons butter, softened 
• 1/4 cup shortening, softened
• 1/2 cup dark brown sugar, tightly packed
• 2/3 cup molasses
• 1/3 cup tahini
• 1 tablespoon vanilla extract
• 1 large egg + 1 yolk
• 1/4 cup candied ginger, finely chopped
• Royal Icing (I added a little orange blossom water to mine)

Directions:

1. Sift together flour, soda, and all spices in a large bowl and set aside
2. In the bowl of a stand mixer, fitted with a paddle attachment, mix butter, shortening, and sugar on medium-high until light and fully incorporated (will be lighter in color)
3. Add molasses, tahini, egg and yolk, and vanilla to the butter-sugar mixture. Beat for a minute
4. With motor running on low, gradually add dry ingredients in thirds. Allow one third to fully incorporate before adding the next. Dough should be a homogenous browned color
5. Turn out onto a floured work station and shape into a round disc. Cut into quarters and shape into discs again. Wrap and refrigerate for half an hour
6. While dough is chilling, make royal icing, preheat oven to 350*F, and prepare a couple baking sheets with parchment paper
7. When dough is finished chilling, take one disc at a time from the fridge and unwrap. Roll out onto a floured work surface into a rectangle (helps with sizing and spacing) to be about 1/4". Cut into desired shape and place on parchment-lined sheets, about 1 inch apart from one another. If making gingerbread men, you may want to use a spatula. Repeat for remaining/desired dough
8. Bake for 12 minutes or until browned and crisp around the edges. Allow to cool before decorating.

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Does the farm house creak in memory of me?

My mother called me this morning to talk on her drive. She told me how the leaves are all dead now, how it was a hassle to rake them when it was inevitable they'd be covered in snow in a month. How she spilled her iced tea on her favorite scarf, so she wrapped an old t-shirt around her neck on the way home to keep warm. She said her body was like her home in Pennsylvania, filled with too many memories and creaking with each step.

I think they plan on moving soon; I think she’s telling me in her own way. I think they’ll sell the house I grew up in soon. She’s got arthritis in her collarbone, it hurts to hold the hand rail some days to get up the steps. My mother is barely fifty, but she’s full of memories and a lifetime of hard work makes her creak with every step. I won’t grieve the loss just yet, but I keep thinking about what she said this morning and the pause in conversation that was filled with my million questions of her future and my past, so intrinsically tied to that old farm house.

I’m surprised it’s still standing, the way the water floods the basement in the spring. It’s sits at a base of a hill called Friendship and water ran through our front door one April. I’m surprised it’s still standing, it seems like a thousand years went by since I’ve been home. Has the pool water turned that murky shade of green? Has the grapevine strangled the chickenwire fence that covers half the yard? How many bottles washed up from the creekbed? How many cigarette butts are still hidden underneath a rock I used to smoke next to in the backyard?

How many years did I say I’d run away and never look back?

Home is every dandelion and birthday candle I blew out with one heavy sigh. It’s hard to see it straight-on, but it’s in the periphery of my comparisons. Pittsburgh and Italy, San Diego and Texas—I’ve been building homes from cardboard boxes, never getting the details of that old house in Pennsylvania replicated until it felt right.

How the rosebush blushed in the spring and by summer was shaking with aphids. How the floorboard creaked until it became a Hail Mary you’d say before you snuck out at night. How we never locked the door and kept the windows open until January. How the snow melted once and we found the skeleton of a chicken that must have escaped the coop. How my mother left bologna on the porch swing for stray cats to eat and they found a couple of baby skunks one morning too. How it all seemed to clear to me that I wasn’t a part of that world the last time I was there; how it all felt too pure and corruptible.

And I still keep my mother at a 3,000 mile distance for this same reason. She’s quiet until the snow melts.  She blushes until you get too close. She creaks and says her prayers at night.  She’s so pure in her own way, but there’s chickenwire on her soul and she won’t stay that way for long. I keep my distance, so I won’t grieve the loss just yet.

Chocolate Pumpkin Bundt Cake with Spiced Orange Icing

A cake you make when you need to feel a sense of home, whether that home is 3,000 miles away or from 7 years ago. Makes one bundt cake.

Ingredients for Cake:

• 2 1/2 cup AP flour
• 2 1/4 teaspoon baking soda
• 1 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1/2 tablespoon of cinnamon
• 1 1/2 cup cocoa powder
• 1 3/4 cup white sugar
• 1/2 cup brown sugar, dark
• 1/3 cup + 2 tablespoon olive oil
• 6 tablespoon butter, extremely soft
• 1/2 cup pumpkin puree
• 1 large egg
• 2 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 1 1/2 tablespoon white vinegar
• 1 tablespoon orange zest
• 2 cups milk

Directions for Cake:

1. Heavily butter, grease, and flour a bundt pan and preheat oven to 350*F
2. In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, sift together flour, soda, salt, cinnamon, cocoa powder, and sugars. Repeat. 
3. In a separate bowl or measuring cup, whisk all remaining ingredients until well blended and egg yolk is broken up.
4. Create a well in the dry ingredients and add a small amount of the wet ingredients (about 1/2 a cup) into the dry ingredients, turn mixer on low
5. Continue to pour remaining wet ingredients in slowly, turning mixer off a couple times to scrape bottom with a rubber spatula
6. When it is all mixed together, turn stand mixer on medium-high and blend for one and a half minutes
7. Give one last mix with the rubber spatula and pour into the prepared pan
8. Bake for 1 hour and 10 minutes, checking at the fifty minute mark for a cake where a toothpick inserted comes out clean
9. Allow to cool before taking out of pan and icing.

Ingredients for Spiced Orange Icing:

• 1/2 cup brown sugar
• 1/4 cup butter
• 1/2 tablespoon light corn syrup
• 1/4 cup whole milk
• 2 tablespoon orange juice
• 1/2 tablespoon orange zest
• 1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
• 1/4 teaspoon allspice
• Pinch of black pepper
• 1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
• 4-5 cups confectioner's sugar
• Pinch of salt

Directions for Icing:

1. Sift together confectioner's sugar and all spices in a separate bowl and set to the side
2. In a small sauce pan, heat sugar, butter and corn syrup on medium-high, stirring occasionally to avoid burning
3. Allow butter to melt completely into mixture and cook for a minute or two until sides start bubbling slightly
4. Add milk and orange juice, stirring once. Allow to cook for an additional minute
5. Take off burner and allow to cool completely 
6. Pour into the bowl of a stand mixer, fitted with a whisk attachment
7. When cool to the touch, begin beating on medium-high and adding confectioner's sugar one cup at a time, allowing for each cup to be mixed in fully before adding the next
8. Continue to do this until you yield your desired consistency with the icing (may use more or less of the confectioner's sugar).  Icing should be pale and spotted with orange and spices
9. Spread desired amount over cooled bundt cake
10. Fully iced cake can be stored for up to four days in fridge

Kentucky, 1996

I grew up eating generic cereal and milk past the expiration date.  I grew up with toys from the same dollar store we hid in during a tornado warning.  We had a Jeep that blew fumes into the ozone that ran down the line--it was my mom's car, then my brother's, my sister's.  It stopped running the month I got my license.  I took my sister's old Pontiac she bought for $500 from a Mennonite family down the road.

I swam in old flannel shirts and used to wear a belt with my sweatpants in kindergarten.  One birthday I got a compass, another a letter from my mother telling me how much she loved me. She decorated the margins with small daisies she used to doodle for me.  I wore glasses from Wal-Mart, thirteen dollars a pair, when I couldn't make out the words on the chalkboard.  It stressed me out so much I developed an ulcer.

We lived economically when I was younger, my dad worked the night shift most years.  He'd sleep during the day and we would play by ourselves in the summer.  There were piles of bricks in our backyard in Kentucky.  Nails, too.  My brother stepped on one when he was thirteen and it bled through his sock.  He never told my dad at the time, he didn't want to wake him up.  My brother still has the scar and I think of his eldest-son stoicism as he wiped the blood off the linoleum kitchen floor and held the heel until the bleeding stopped.  

My dad only woke up for water in the summer.  He had to be back to work by eight, right after dinner.  When my mother watched us on the weekends, we'd sit in our pajamas and she'd tell us about her day.  Emotional, lovable, and laughing, that's how my mom would tell stories.  She never made us feel poor, she would only ever make us feel important, engaged, part of her small world of three children and a nine to five at a grocery warehouse outside of Lexington, Kentucky.  

And in those days when things were tight, just like all the Midwestern women before her, she'd get creative with food.  Nothing could go to waste, we couldn't afford that luxury of a full trash can and an empty fridge.  Leftover chicken was soup the next day, same with the pot roast from last week.  We'd have breakfast for dinner when the eggs were going bad and I remember once eating rice with sugar and milk as a dessert.  If she bought fruit for our paper bag lunches, they'd find their way into other manifestations.  Cherries on vanilla yogurt.  Small-batch grape jam.  And the banana that browned on the kitchen counter all week from the hot Kentucky sun would soon be smashed down into banana bread.  It became so common in our house, my sister would ask for it instead of a birthday cake.

The homespun aroma of the quick bread would fill our home and I can still feel the heat coming off the cast iron loaf pan when I'd pinch crumbs from the cracked top to taste it.  I still remember how much love was in that little ranch house where my sister's room had the washer and dryer in it.  I still remember what my mom wrote in her note to me when she couldn't afford a present for my birthday. "Brett, you're the one good thing I've ever done. I miss you every day. In my heart and on my mind, I love you." 

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Banana Bread Cinnamon Rolls

Because it's never good to let things go to waste and if you're like me, you probably have a few bananas you promise you'll eat before they brown.  These cinnamon rolls are light, chewy and delicate with an amazingly yeasty taste.  It's a taste of home you can have anytime.  Makes 16-18.

Ingredients for Dough:

• 1 cup whole milk
• 1/2 cup brown sugar, dark
• 1 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1 cup water, heated to 105*F
• 2 packets of active dry yeast (highly prefer  Red Star Platinum Superior Baking Yeast for this recipe) 
• 1 teaspoon white sugar
• 2 eggs
• 5-6 cup all-purpose flour, sifted into a large bowl
• 1/2 stick butter, melted

Directions for Dough:

1. In a small saucepan, heat milk, brown sugar, and salt together on medium-high heat.  Stir occasionally until brown sugar and salt are dissolved (brown sugar may still have some flecks, this is okay). Continue cooking until small bubbles form around the edge.  Remove from heat and allow to cool.
2. While this is cooking, pour hot water, white sugar, and 2 packets of yeast in the bowl of a stand mixer, fitted with the paddle attachment.  Allow to sit for 8-10 minutes until it begins to foam from proofing (more noticeable with a higher-quality yeast, such as Red Star's).  
3. Beat eggs one at a time into the yeast mixture on medium speed, allowing the first egg to be fully incorporated before the second.  
4. Next, with the mixture still running, slowly pour cooled milk mixture into the stand mixture.
5. Switch from a paddle attachment to a dough hook (keep in mind that this can all be done by hand with a wooden spoon, but may take longer and may not produce a lighter end product)
6. Begin pouring flour into mixer slowly, one cup at a time.  Between each cup, wet dough with melted butter.  You may not need the full six cups, but dough will be ready when it no longer sticks to the side of the bowl and forms around hook.  
7. Turn out onto a floured work surface and fold in on itself 4 times.  Turn into a lightly greased bowl and cover with a towel.  Allow to rise for one hour.  While waiting, move onto the filling

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Ingredients for Filling:

• 7 browned bananas, mashed into a paste
• 1/2 cup brown sugar
• 2 tablespoons honey
• 1/2 cup confectioner's sugar
• 2 teaspoons cinnamon

Directions for Filling:

1. Place all ingredients in a bowl and stir together until fully incorporated
2. Cover with plastic wrap and allow to sit in fridge while rolling out cinnamon rolls

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Ingredients for Icing and Topping:

• 1/4 cup cream cheese, softened
• 2 tablespoons butter, softened
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 4 cups confectioner's sugar
• 1 tablespoon milk
• 1/2 cup walnuts, chopped or crushed

Assembly and Directions for Icing:

1. When dough is finished resting, punch down and turn back out onto floured work surface
2. Cut in half and place one half to the side
3. Roll out other half into a 12"x9" rectangle
4. Using a rubber spatula, spoon half of the banana filling onto the dough
5. Roll the dough onto itself, lengthwise and tuck edge underneath the log
6. Using floss, twine, or a careful and sharp knife, cup one-inch rounds from dough
7. Place onto a cookie sheet to rest
8. Repeat with other half of dough with remaining banana filling
9. Cover rolls with a towel and rest for 45 minutes
10. In the meantime, preheat oven to 350*F
11. When finished resting, place in oven (either use cookie sheet, or transfer rolls to pans like I did in the photos) and bake for 35-40 minutes, or until golden (begin checking at the 35 minute mark)
12. While baking, make icing by beating cream cheese, butter, and vanilla together.  Add one cup of confectioner's sugar at a time.  If icing is too crumbly, add a little bit of milk to wet it.  Continue alternating between cups of confectioner's sugar and milk until you have the consistency of the icing you like (pourable, but not dripping)
13. Take rolls out of oven, allow to cool slightly, and top with icing and walnuts.  Enjoy!

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This post was sponsored by my friends over at Red Star Yeast, which is a company I have grown up with and loved ever since I began baking.  All opinions are my own, as I consider the Platinum line of yeast to be a superior choice for the recipe provided. See more wonderful baked goods on their Twitter, their Instagram, or just their website!

Lazy Sunday Reading

I wish I could have captured this morning on my camera.  I wish you all could have seen the steam from my cup, how the light danced from grey to blue over the dishes left from last night.  How a tree scratched the window and it sounds like a moth tapping to be let in, soft and gentle, a whispering Catherine in this Wuthering mid-century.  How the first bite of toast left crumbs on my shirt and how the cream swirled and danced in my cup just long enough for me to notice.  

Mornings like this happen all the time, I just am too busy to notice during the week.  Sundays come and I woke up at seven to start baking today.  I'm heading to the park later.  I'm taking a break from everything today.  But if you're still enjoying your coffee, if you're still finishing your toast, then here are some pieces I've written this week you might enjoy.  Keep your glasses on, stretch and yawn all day long.  These are the best moments of Sunday.

Fig+Bleu Elsewhere

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"My Father, the Donut Lover" + Recipe for Powdered Donuts on Snacks Quarterly

It has never been that I never wanted to know my father; I just always found better things to do with my time. He’s quiet, worrisome. He’s well-meaning, but there’s a negativity to his comments that come from never realizing how deep emotions can go. He cried when I graduated high school and when I moved to California, every conversation in between was over the phone. In the back of my mind, he hasn’t aged a day. In the back of my mind, I see my dad in a sweatshirt and sleeping shorts, watching a sitcom on TBS, the couch cushions forming to his body. In the back of my mind, I know that image is a pillar of my childhood.  An obelisk, etched with laugh lines and cherry moles. A corn-fed Atlas who holds up the world in his faded flannel shirt.

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"An Ode to Gathering" + Recipe for Cheddar-Apple Butter Galettes on The Baking Society

It wasn’t until later that I realized how vital this gathering around food was, how it existed in my genes as well as my sense memory. How it situated itself on my palette and into the corners of my nerve-endings, always on the outliers of my synapses. I gravitate to those hearty meals; my mom adds a can of Coca-Cola to her ham. I like donuts made from pinched-off biscuit dough and my lemonade so sweet it hurts your teeth. A piece of bread dipped in apple butter is the only thing you need with coffee. These were the years I remember most before bed, seasons of harvest and celebrations of life. How they shaped my worldview, my love of food, and the bonds that tie us together are enriched most in egg, sugar, and flour.