Southern Scratch Biscuits (Closest Thing To Home)

 

Scratch Biscuits & Tea, Aunt Cassie’s antique teapot, Central Pennsylvania, November 2007, all photos © 2007-2008 by QuoinMonkey. All rights reserved.

Last November when I went home for Mom’s 70th birthday, she made Southern scratch biscuits. I’m heading home again next week, and I’ve been chatting with her on the phone, comparing notes on ancestral roots, drooling over all that good Southern cookin’ that lies in store. Hmmmmm. I hope the boiled peanuts at those little Georgia roadside stands are in season. And Liz wants to try the catfish stew.

As a precursor, I decided to post another family recipe, the nuts and bolts of Mom’s Southern scratch biscuits. Since I reconnected with my paternal aunts last summer (who had not seen me since I was about two), I’ve been trying to gather more tidbits from that side of the family. Mom told me she learned to bake scratch biscuits from my paternal grandmother, Estelle.

After I was born, Mom, then 16, and my father (17) lived with Estelle for a short time. Estelle taught her the secrets of buttermilk and lard, and the nuances of rolling out the dough, and flattening with the knuckles. Hand to hand to hand. It was all passed down.

Eventually, biscuit dough was manufactured and spit into a tube and many women stopped making scratch biscuits. Ever wonder when the canned refrigerator biscuit was invented? One source calls it — the path from accidental mess to Pillsbury Doughboy. Lively Willoughboy of Louisville, Kentucky invented refrigerator dough packed in cardboard tubes in 1930, with a patent issued in 1931. The product was acquired by Ballard & Ballard of Louisville which was acquired by Pillsbury Mills in Minneapolis, Minnesota in 1951.

But let’s not think about that right now! This is our Southern scratch biscuit recipe, the way Amelia learned to make biscuits from my Grandmother Estelle. I left Mom’s notes in, just the way she wrote them. The secret’s in the simplicity. It is basic and as close to home as you can get.

 
 

 

Southern Scratch Biscuits

2 cups self-rising flour
1/4 cup lard or shortening (I use Crisco)
1 cup buttermilk (if you don’t have, use sour milk)

Tip:
If you don’t have sour milk, put 1 tablespoon lemon juice or vinegar and enough whole milk to make 1 cup, and let stand 5 minutes before using. Or 1 cup whole milk plus 1 3/4 teaspoons cream of tartar (or 1 cup sour cream).

Preheat oven to 400 degrees.

Put the flour in a bowl. With your fingertips, work the shortening into the flour until well blended and evenly mixed. Pour in the buttermilk and mix until a dough is formed. Roll out the dough to about 1/2-inch thickness on a floured board: cut with a 2-inch biscuit cutter or pluck off balls, roll, and flatten them with your knuckles. (I have used a glass as a cutter.)

Bake on a greased baking sheet for 10 to 12 minutes, or until brown. Makes 10 to 12 biscuits.

Tip:
When rolling out, do it on a floured board and use a floured rolling pin. If you don’t have a rolling pin, use a smooth glass. You can always find ways to make do. I have. When you make biscuits all the time, you can go by the way it feels. I kept a mixing bowl with flour in it and just took a little shortening with my fingers and mixed with the flour until it felt like the right consistency. But until then use the recipe!

Now I’m hungry for homemade biscuits so I guess I’ll have to go make some.

Love Ya,
Happy cooking,
MOM

 

      

 
For a real treat, check out The Rise of the Southern Biscuit by Maryann Byrd. Liz and I watched the PBS documentary last winter and came away so hungry, we had to run out to Cracker Barrel (the closest thing we have to a Southern restaurant in the Far North) for a fix of biscuits and sweet tea. You’ll learn all about the roots of the Southern biscuit tradition, from Beaten Biscuits (the first Southern biscuit) to the biscuit brake. 

And if your local station doesn’t have the show in its immediate lineup, you can e-mail the Documentary Channel and request that they air it. Oh, by the way, Mom mentioned using a smooth glass to roll out the dough; at the last link, there’s a photograph of Miss Daisy King’s Angel biscuits and her mother’s glass rolling pin that she inherited when she was six years old. This documentary will make your mouth water. Don’t forget the popcorn with lots of real butter!

 

 

 

-posted on red Ravine, Monday, July 7th, 2008

-related to posts:

Memories, Writing, & Family Recipes

Leftover Turkey? Try Amelia’s Soft Dumpling Recipe

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PRACTICE – Olives – 15min

I’m not a big fan of olives. The historical and biblical references to the olive are more engaging to me than the food itself. I don’t like stinky cheese either. And what about pickle juice? I don’t drink it. But it’s the secret ingredient in my potato salad. I make it the Southern way: lots of mayo (in my case Miracle Whip), celery, eggs, pickles, salt, pepper, oregano, sage, and whatever other spices I grab from the rack. And then, that ½ cup (give or take a little) of sweet pickle juice.

I’ve noticed that sweet is a basic theme in Southern cooking. At least the Southern cooking I grew up on. I had barbecue ribs from Missouri last weekend at a writing retreat. They were delicious. But the one thing I noticed is that they weren’t as sweet as the tangy-sweet sauce I find on the ribs when I go Down South. And in the South, pork is the other white meat. Pork barbecue is a staple.

I wonder what it is about sweet and the South? Why are the foods and drinks laced with sugar? I’m a sugar fan, even though it’s not supposed to be that good for you. When I am eating healthier, I don’t consume as much sugar. But I always allow for it in my diet, lest I feel deprived. The sugar in sweet pickle juice is what makes potato salad sing.

I don’t like the raw onions in German potato salad. Or the way the taste is dull and lifeless to the palate. I like a little zing. One writer last weekend said she used to eat raw onions, just like eating an apple. I can’t stand them. They give me indigestion. I do like them cooked in spaghetti sauce, or any kind of red sauce. I don’t like mushrooms. Too rubbery. Maybe it’s texture that drives food likes and dislikes.

Back to olives. I have strayed. I only remember them edging our plates at Holiday meals like Thanksgiving and Christmas. They were not staples of our diet growing up. At the Holidays there was always a relish tray filled with celery, sweet pickles, deviled eggs (which I love and have on occasion added a bit of pickle juice to the filling), sliced carrots, pickled beets, and radishes. The variety added color and spice to the family feast.

I wish I could say I ate a lot of vegetables but they seem seasonal to me. I crave vegetables in the Spring and Summer. Fall I like baked squash. Winters, I go for hot and heavy stews.

We had a discussion last weekend about peanut butter. It came later in the night (when the silence was lifted), after we had done a 10 minute morning write on Everything I Know About Peanut Butter. I think I was the one that threw the Writing Topic into the bowl. We all scribbled down Topics on ripped strips of paper, folded them, and dropped them into the bowl. At the end of the retreat, we were reminiscing about all the Topics we didn’t get to write about.

Peanut butter, I like the Skippy Super Crunch, Lowfat, with lots of chunks of nuts. Others preferred health food peanut butter or only smooth. I was amazed at the different tastes people had when it came to peanut butter varieties. We used to have peanut butter and banana and mayo sandwiches as kids. I liked them. But my younger brothers liked them more. It seems like a strange combination. But try it sometime. The vinegar in the mayo mixes just right with the sweetness of banana. And then the peanut butter glues the whole thing together.

I don’t like any of the foods on the strange list in this Topic. No fake banana. No prune juice. No black licorice. No SPAM. People are shocked when I say I don’t like guacamole. It seems like everyone likes guacamole. What’s so special about the meat of a dense, lime green, tasteless tropical fruit like the pear-shaped avocado, mashed up into a dip with raw onions? The texture and taste do not appeal to my sensibilities. I’m never going to get it.

-posted on red Ravine, Friday, May 23rd, 2008

-from Topic post, WRITING TOPIC – OLIVES

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White Elephants On Art

White Elephant Cafe, Augusta, Georgia, June 2007, photo © 2007-2008 by QuoinMonkey. All rights reserved. 

I don’t have much energy for writing. Liz and I spent the day at the Frida Kahlo Exhibit at the Walker Art Center. Then romped around the Minneapolis Sculpture Garden and Conservatory, snapping photographs of: 

That’s our idea of a FUN day. This is a sculpture by Claes Oldenburg that’s pretty famous around these parts. Oldenburg’s wife and collaborator, Coosje Van Bruggen, contributed the cherry as a playful reference to the Garden’s formal geometry. It reminded her of Versailles and the larger-than-life dining etiquette of Louis XIV. She also conceived the pond’s shape in the form of linden seed.

The sculpture was a gift from Frederick R. Weisman in honor of his parents, William and Mary Weisman in 1988.  The Basilica of St. Mary is in the background (left). 

Spoonbridge and Cherry, 1985-1988
aluminum, stainless steel, paint
354 x 618 x 162 in.

The Frida Kahlo Exhibit – all I can say is WOW. I’m still reeling from standing a nose width from her paintings. And viewing the 80 or 90 vintage family photographs of Frida and Diego Rivera. More to come on Frida. We’re thinking of going back Monday night during Members Appreciation.

When we arrived at the Walker, the wait to get into the exhibit was a minimum of 1 hour. But there was a Members Express line that would roll us right into the exhibit in 5 minutes – we’re now members of the Walker. If you live in the Twin Cities, or even within 100 miles, I recommend you see it before it leaves on January 20th. Chances are it will be a long time until you have the opportunity to view a collection like this again.

We’re on the downside of New Year’s week. I’m wondering what other gifts in the form of:

 

people received for Christmas. For details of the White Elephant ritual, I refer you to the comments in the pig post, On Collecting Pigs Against Your Will (Comment 42 and on). Do you have any Christmas presents you’re going to return? Ties, wallets, shirts, an hourglass, or maybe some time in a bottle?

The White Elephant Cafe was a bar in the 1950’s. Last June my mother, step-dad, and I took a drive down Broad Street in downtown Augusta, Georgia. I took photographs. They talked about their memories of Augusta. The White Elephant was a place my grandfather used to frequent. The stories were rich.

Now they serve Southern lunches with: White Elephant Peanut Butter Pie and Moroccan Chutney Meatballs on Couscous. The most expensive thing on the menu is the: Rib-eye Grilled in a Peach Balsamic Sauce Topped w/ Peaches & Bacon served w/Smashed Red Potatoes for $18.95. I’m drawn to the: Smoked Salmon Hash for $8.95. Anything hash and I’m there.

New Year’s luck, did I mention I’ve had my fill of black-eyed peas. Remember all those extra:

I cooked up in bulk? No way I could eat them all. Ugh, tummy rumble.

Well, that’s it for Saturday. I’m heading off to watch a movie on the couch. Over and out with a portrait I took of Liz in the Conservatory at the Sculpture Garden after frolicking in the snow.

Any other White Elephants? So far I’ve heard about a Starter Pig and a bottle of Stay Young pills (2 a day for the next 40 years). Next year maybe Love Potion #9. (I remember the 60’s song by the Searchers? But something tells me they weren’t the first to record it.) Too tired for more research tonight. Off to see the Wizard.

-related to post, Dreaming Of Frida Kahlo

-posted on red Ravine, Saturday, January 5th, 2008

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Cook Up A Little New Year’s Luck — Traditional Black-Eyed Peas

It’s New Year’s Day. And it wouldn’t be New Year’s without black-eyed peas. Black-eyed peas aren’t peas at all but legumes, a member of the trusty bean family.

My family makes Traditional Black-eyed Peas every New Year’s Day for good luck. And black-eyed peas are also the prime ingredient in Hoppin’ John which spices up the peas with lots of onion, hot sauce, sometimes chili powder or jalapeno, and adds the rice right into the pot.

Like its tasty counterpart, Southern grits smothered in butter and grated cheddar cheese, the reputation of the black-eyed pea seems to lie on the tongue of the beholder. Those who did not grow up eating black-eyed peas are prone to think they have an earthy taste (some might say like eating dirt!). But I love the taste of the funny looking bean, and the smell of a big old pot simmering on the kitchen stove takes me back to my grandmother’s kitchen.

Black-eyed peas are related to the mung bean (according to the Library of Congress) and have been cultivated since prehistoric times in China and India. They were brought to the West Indies from West Africa by slaves around 1674. And the ancient Greeks and Romans preferred them to chickpeas. Black-eyed peas were considered field crops to the Northerners in the War Between The States and were often left behind in the fields. They became associated with being a humble food and fed many of the Confederate troops.

     

Wherever the origins of the black-eyed pea, the Good Luck tradition has been carried down from generation to generation. The idea is that if you start out the New Year dining in humility, you will only become more prosperous as the year moves on. Some cook the peas up along with greens and cornbread. According to the myth of fortune, the peas represent coins, the greens symbolize paper money, and cornbread stands for gold.

I imagine the sales of black-eyed peas skyrocket this time of year. A friend called last night to wish Liz and I a Happy New Year. When I told him I was cooking up a pot of black-eyed peas, he said, “Hey, did you add the penny to the pot?” “Penny? What penny?” Liz asked. It wasn’t part of the tradition in our family, but some would add a penny to the pot of black-eyed peas and the person who received the dished up coin would be showered with good fortune all year long.

My mother makes the simple, traditional recipe. And that’s the one I’m including below. I talked to her on the phone yesterday and am dishing up all the little tidbits she mentioned. If you’d like to read more history and recipe variations for black-eyed peas, I’m including all the research links at the end of the post.

I hope you’re warm and celebrating the New Year. It is a time of humble new beginnings, a chance to start over with a clean slate. May your New Year be prosperous and plenty. And full of rich family traditions.

     

Traditional Black-Eyed Peas

Shopping List:

1 package of black-eyed peas (about 2 cups)
1 ham hock
a pinch of salt and pepper

I doubled my recipe because I bought in bulk and had soaked way too many peas. (You should have heard Mom laughing!) The ham hock was from the Wedge Co-Op and ran about 1.46 lbs.

In our family we serve the peas over white rice. Some people prefer brown. You can also spoon them over cornbread (and include the juice). Whatever you prefer to eat with your peas, you’ll need to include that item in your Shopping List.

Cooking Instructions:

• Rinse peas in large pot
  One package of dried peas is about 2 cups (4 cups soaked)

• Sort out any pieces of grit, hard or misshapen peas, or anything that looks like it just doesn’t belong there! Bad peas usually float to the top. In the old days, peas from the field had to be sorted for worms and other field critters. This is less of a problem these days.

• Let stand overnight (at least 8 hours)
  Drain soak water, rinse peas in fresh cold water
  Add 6 cups of hot water (or enough to cover the top of the peas)

• Add the pork. In our family, this is a ham hock. But you can add fatback, a little bacon grease, or just bits of bacon. We use a ham hock because most of the flavor comes from the bone. Some families saw off pieces of bone from a cooked ham and use that in their black-eyed peas.

• Cover peas
  Simmer gently with lid tilted until desired tenderness is reached (1 1/2 or 2 hours)

• If you forget to soak the peas the night before, you can do something called a Quick Soak:

         Add a pound of peas to six to eight cups water
         Boil 3 minutes, remove from heat
         Let stand one hour

My sister said she adds Goya ham-flavored concentrate to her black-eyed peas and ham hock to spice them up. It’s like a ham bouillon. She said to keep adding water to the peas if needed to avoid them turning to mush.

She also follows the Northern New Year’s tradition of making a pork loin rolled in sage, rosemary, and parsley and adding sauerkraut. I guess she’ll have double good luck this year!

Happy New Year!

-research links: Seeds of Knowledge Holidays – Black-eyed Peas for New Year’s Day by Brenda Hyde, The Free Lance Star – Fredericksburg, Virginia – This Pea Stands For Prosperity by Marcia Armstrong

-posted on red Ravine, Tuesday, January 1st, 2008

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Baking Rocks – Southern Style

Baking rocks for the Holidays is a tradition in our family. The name “Rocks” sounds kind of iffy. But trust me, they are delicious.

Liz had never had them before. I turned off the computer, turned up the Christmas music, and convinced her to bake up a batch to take to Solstice. I was the right-hand cook, chopping dates, locating the buried hand mixer, digging out the muffin tins, stealing tasty swipes of raw batter while Liz rolled together the ingredients.

Mom sent me the recipe a few weeks ago, adding all the little tips and tidbits Aunt Cassie passed down to her. Recipes weren’t written down in the past. They were passed from mother to daughter by story and word of mouth. (When I called to ask my sister the baking time for smaller muffin tins, she was making Rocks, too! And was only a few steps behind Liz in the mixing.) Now recipes are passed on to fathers and sons. My brothers are as apt to bake as I am.

I searched high and low for the history of Rocks. I came up empty. They seem similar to the Rock Cakes that originated in England (and are featured in one of the Harry Potter books). The batter has some of the same ingredients. But, no, they’re not Rock Cakes.

Rocks are not cupcakes, cookies, or cake. They aren’t fruit cake either. They seem to be a variation of all of these recipes. I am sure they are Southern. But when I was surprised by a call from my Aunt Annette in South Carolina this morning, and told her I was making Rocks, she said, “What, Honey? Rocks?” She had never heard of Rocks in her family. That caused me to scratch my head since I thought they were well known and widespread across the South.

If anyone knows the history of Rocks, please feel free to chime in in the comments. Meantime, I’ll keep my eyes open and continue to research as I write my memoir.

There was another little surprise today. While I was working on this post tonight and watching the Vikings play the Redskins, my brother called from Pennsylvania to say they had just taken a family portrait and I was included.

“Hmmm, that’s curious,” I said, “since I’m sitting on the couch in Minnesota.”

“Oh,” Mom said when he passed the phone to her, “you were here alright, QuoinMonkey. Even had a cute little bow in your hair.”

“We’ll send you the photos,” my sister said. “We’re having a blast taking family Holiday portraits.”

Same sentiments when the phone passed to my other brother, step-dad, and sister-in-law. There was laughter all around. Stay tuned.

And now, Amelia’s Rock recipe. Southern style.

BAKING ROCKS – SOUTHERN STYLE

SHOPPING LIST

1 1/2 scant cups sugar
2 sticks (1 cup) butter
3 eggs
1 1/2 cups nuts (chopped) (I always use pecans in my recipes)
1 box dates (about 2 cups, cut up) (Dromedary are best around here. Buy them whole and cut them into quarters; store-bought cut dates are coated and dry.)

2 1/2 cups plain flour (not self-rising flour) (sifted or fluffed with a fork; not packed or thumped; should be light and airy)
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1 teaspoon allspice (sift/fluff spices into flour)
1 teaspoon baking soda (in 2 tablespoons sour milk or warm water)

COOKING INSTRUCTIONS

Mix:

Cream butter and sugar.
Then gradually add eggs, one at a time, beating well after each one.
Gradually add flour and spice mix.
Mix soda in sour milk (or warm water). Fold into mixture, just until combined.
Stir in nuts and dates to coat all the pieces.

Bake:

Fill cupcake pans 2/3 full.
Bake in oven preheated to 350 degrees for about 25 mins (or until toothpick comes out clean).

Eat:

Rocks keep well and are better after the second day. Keep in covered container (you can also wrap in cloth towel). If they become too dry, add a slice of bread, broken up, to the container. They will absorb moisture from bread.

My recipes were written by Aunt Cassie and didn’t have any directions. We were suppose to know all the extras, so I wrote them in for you. Mixing really well makes a difference with a lot of cakes.

That’s Mom’s recipe for Rocks. I like them warm. Right out of the oven. But the best part of baking Rocks? Rocks smell like home.

-posted on red Ravine, Sunday, December 23rd, 2007

-related to post, Southern Banana Pudding – A Family Tradition

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Southern Banana Pudding – A Family Tradition

Old family recipes remind me of the good parts of childhood. The smells are familar and warm, enveloping me in a giant culinary hug. The tastes are like ancestral footprints, distinct to each family, passed down for generations. (They don’t call it comfort food for nothin’!)

My 5 siblings and I have started pulling together Mom’s family recipes, many of which are Southern. She grew up in the South but has lived in the North for almost 41 years. Out of 6 kids, 4 of us lived in the South part of our childhoods, and 2 have only known the Northern climates as home.

After we moved from Georgia, Mom learned to cook favorite Pennsylvania dishes. And we grew up with a distinct blend of Northern and Southern cooking. I think we are all richer for it. My heart will always be rooted in the South, but my feet have been firmly planted in the high North for over 40 years.

I posted Mom’s Soft Dumpling recipe a few days ago. My brother, R3, sent the Banana Pudding recipe to me in an email. There aren’t many gatherings in our family without banana pudding on the table. It’s a family tradition. And, let me tell you, it’s not long before it’s all gobbled up!

Here’s Mom’s Southern Banana Pudding recipe, complete with R3’s commentary. It’s perfect for Turkey Day. It’s perfect anytime!

Happy Thanksgiving!

Southern Banana Pudding (by R3)

Banana pudding has always been a family favorite.  I am not sure where it came from but it doesn’t seem like a complete family gathering if we don’t have banana pudding.

The recipe is basically very simple.  The ingredients are bananas, cooked vanilla pudding (you need whole milk for this) and vanilla wafers.

I usually make a 9 X 13 inch pan of banana pudding because that seems to be the right amount for our family. I also use Nabisco “Nilla” vanilla wafers because they are the ones Mom always used. I have tried others but the taste of the Nilla wafers reminds me of home.

As for the pudding, instant pudding cannot be substituted for the cooked version. Not only does the instant taste “grainy” but you need the heated pudding to help cook the bananas and to infiltrate the cookies to make them softer. The bananas should have no green on them and be just starting to spot, so they are still firm but at their peak of flavor.

Shopping list:

2 – 3 packages of cooked vanilla pudding (depending on the number of layers and the fact that the portion sizes from packaged foods are getting smaller. No instant pudding! Use the real deal.)

1 – 2 boxes of Nabisco Nilla wafers (I used to be able to use one but the volume of cookies has decreased, and my consumption while I make banana pudding has increased!)

3 – 4 bananas (depending on how big the bananas are and how many layers you make. Bananas should have no green on them and be just starting to spot, so they are still firm but at their peak of flavor.)

Cooking Instructions:

Cook the vanilla pudding per the package instructions (using whole milk for the total experience).

While the pudding is cooking, place a layer of Nilla wafers on the bottom of the pan and top with a layer of cut banana slices (cut into disks). I usually use 1 to 1 1/2 bananas per layer.

When the pudding is cooked, pour about a third of the pudding over the sliced bananas and cookies. Make another layer of cookies and bananas and cover them with more pudding. If you have enough for another layer then do another layer of cookies and bananas ending with a top layer of pudding.

If you want to get fancy you can put cookies around the sides of the dish, pushing them in vertically and another layer on top.

Let cool, then cover with plastic wrap and place in the refrigerator overnight (this is an important step because banana pudding is always best if it ages overnight in the refrigerator).

The next day grab a spoon, a cereal bowl and enjoy (cereal bowl is optional).

-posted on red Ravine, Wednesday, November 21st, 2007

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Leftover Turkey? Try Amelia’s Soft Dumpling Recipe

I was sitting in Amelia’s kitchen with the smell of Southern style chicken and dumplings pouring through my nostrils, when it occurred to me I should be writing her recipes down. I’ve never been much of a cook. But all of my siblings carry on the tradition of Mom’s cooking. That was in mouthwatering evidence on her 70th birthday last week, when all manner of Southern cuisine showed up on the birthday table.

Each time I visit, I ask Mom to make my favorite “growing-up” foods, comfort foods you just can’t find in the Midwest. This trip, I asked for a pot of yellow squash (which I love), and found out the secret ingredients are butter, a dash of salt, and 1/4 teaspoon of bacon grease.

After the squash was well along, Mom started the dumplings, I connected the dial-up at the kitchen table, fired up my laptop, and asked her to dictate the soft dumpling recipe (passed down from her mother), while I tapped her words into this post.

Soft dumplings are a big hit any season, but perfect for leftover Thanksgiving turkey. And since Mom’s a big fan of red Ravine, we had a good chuckle imagining one of ybonesy’s wild, New Mexico turkeys mingling with the steaming Southern dumplings.

When I got back to Minnesota and ybonesy mentioned that I should start posting Amelia’s recipes, R3 sent the banana pudding recipe (complete with his commentary), which I’ll post early this week.

But for now, plan ahead for those leftovers next weekend. Turkey and dumplings, anyone?

Amelia’s Soft Dumplings

Sift together:

2 cups plain flour
3 tsp baking powder (make sure it’s not flat!)
1 tsp salt

Cut in 1/4 cup Crisco
Add 1 cup of whole milk (make a well in the flour, then pour the milk in; be sure NOT to use skim!)
Stir with fork (until like coarse cornmeal)
Mix until dry is all wet

Drop by spoonfuls into boiling broth
Cook 10 min uncovered, still boiling
Cover and cook 10 minutes longer on low (this steams the tops of the dumplings)

You can drop these into boiling chicken, beef, or turkey broth. Or for a sweet dumpling, slip them into hot stewed apples or blueberries.

Then, in Mom’s words, “Call Amelia!”

Sometimes the simplest recipes are the best. There’s one last thing I want to mention. The pots and pans Mom used last week were antiques, probably purchased when I was about 3 and we were living in Tennessee.

 

Of course, she has a brand spanking new set of cookware around the kitchen. But these are the ones she loves to use for her favorite recipes.

-posted on red Ravine, Sunday, November 18th, 2007

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