I’m a city girl, but have a bred-in me to the bone love of the hearty, honest fare of farm kitchens.  My grandmother was a farm wife of many talents, and known for her prowess at the hearth.  My mom, although she married a city boy, never lost her touch for making “something out of nothing”.  In the 21st century, farm families still rely deeply on each other — I have fond memories of being pressed into service for haying, or giggling with my cousins in the basement of my uncle’s rambling farmhouse at a “meat wrapping”  party — and breaking bread at a communal table has never gone out of fashion.

So, I know just enough about the simplicity of farm fare and farm life to impress my urban colleagues, but am still so woefully unschooled that I provide hours of merriment and amusement to the true multigenerational farmers in my family.

From a large, thriving garden, a groaning orchard,  to pasture grazed livestock, my Grandmother passed along her love for good, honest food and a belief that it was always “easier” to whip something up in her kitchen and more satisfying than anything that could ever come out of a commercial kitchen.  So you won’t find anything fussy or “high concept”  in the pages posted here.

I love to cook, and my husband loves to eat.  It’s a match made in heaven.


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