Being a Southern woman, making food is a part of your soul. It’s in our blood, it’s part of our spirit. It’s just what we do – we cook when we’re happy, when we’re expecting guests, when we’re down, or during a pandemic.
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Summer Days (a poem)
Summertime heat swelters, sweat trickles
down your face – wash those sticky hands from
the melting ice cream.
Continue readingCooking with Rachel (a poem)
For Rachel Forth
The summer days are long and there’s still light outside
when we roll the dough and dance in the kitchen while
making stromboli – you lead the way, but teach me too –
you make it like it’s second-nature to you, a true cook,
and I’m your student – all I can make is scrambled eggs.
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