And so I ponder......

I have wonderful memories of the food from my childhood. My Mom is a terrific "cast iron skillet toting" Southern cook. We grew up eating home-cooked real food. Eating out was a treat instead of an expectation. We knew where our food came from. Mom knew the grocer and the butcher by name and I can still remember a time when the milk man delivered. We shelled peas, strung beans and picked wild blackberries. We ate Chilton County peaches, Slocomb tomatos and Plant City strawberries. We caught bream and fried them to eat with hush puppies and cheese grits and ate buckets of fresh steamed gulf shrimp. We'd pick up pecans at Bishop Laundry and then crack and shell them while we were watching Little House on the Prairie. Mom & Dad would bring home bushels of apples from the mountains every fall and we would enjoy home-made apple sauce and apple butter all year long. We had home-made birthday cakes with 7 minute icing and home-preserved jams & jellies instead of Smuckers. Holiday time meant gingerbread cookies, apple cake and peppermint ice cream.


I also have fond memories of the food traditions I grew up with. Sunday night was "snack night". Mom would pop popcorn (before microwaves were even invented) and we would have slices of apples and sharp cheddar cheese while we all watched the Waltons together. When it was our birthday Mom would make fresh beignets as a special treat. We had a "Mama special"( cut a hole in a piece of bread, place in a skillet with a little melted butter, crack an egg into the hole and cook until done, flip once) and a "Daddy special" (layer, 1. bread 2. slice of ham 3. extra sharp cheddar cheese 4. chili sauce- broil in oven until cheese is bubbly). We ate in the dining room with the china, silver & crystal on special occasions and were required to put our napkins in our laps and sit up at the table. We ate together as a family most meals and still laugh today about the time Tom fell asleep in his oatmeal bowl or when Charlie Ernst threw up cantelope all over the table.

I want my kids to grow up knowing their Southern food heritage. I want to establish traditions and recipes that they will pass down to their children and grandchildren. Coming to the farm is one piece of that puzzle for me.....the ever-growing puzzle which seems to have more questions than answers at this point. Why have we lost our connection to where our food comes from and how do we get it back? Why isn't sitting at the table together a priority any more? How do you pass down your cultural uniqueness in an ever-increasingly homogenized society? How do you integrate old-time ideas and beliefs into our evolving world? Can you support the local & global food economy at the same time? And so I ponder.......