I don’t love pie. I love tarts though, which is basically a different shaped pie. It doesn’t make sense. But I think I’m converting over to being a possible pie fan, under one condition: my mom makes it. I know, I’m regressing to my old childhood ways of only eating my mom’s food. I can’t…
Most of my cooking inspiration comes when my cupboards and fridge are bare. I turn into Anne Shirley when I am scrounging around, trying to imagine (said in Megan Follows voice of course) what these humble ingredients could become. I am picturing the Lady of Shalott eating this last meal before she floats away…It has to be…
I’ve been telling people my whole life that I used to be a picky eater when I was a kid. It wasn’t until recently that I realized I wasn’t necessarily a picky eater, just a very PARTICULAR eater. There’s a difference. It all stemmed around my mom. She’s an amazing cook. I remember many, MANY sleepovers…
Last year, I inherited my grandma’s recipe box and cookbooks. I glanced at it a bit but didn’t take the time to organize it until last night. My number one hesitation with starting a food blog has always been, ”I have nothing new to share,” but I’m getting over that and my angel grandmother is here…