My friends will tell you if you stop by my house you can expect to get fed and cake is always, always on the table. In the South many of us grew up in this was still standard to the household. It was just something you expected, like peanut brittle in your Christmas stocking which was often times a hunting sock, or buttery stone milled grits at breakfast. A comfort after a long day or a happy companion to your coffee at sunrise..
It has been a while since I posted anything on my blogs and I have missed them! And any readers who may have stumbled onto them. After a difficult loss of my partner I’m finally making my way back to the things I love to do. Namely, write, paint, bake, love. ( Add to that sculpt, travel, antiquing, book collecting, occasionally lecturing and a few more…)
I look forward to reconnecting with you and with my kitchen and customers again. Ah, the smell of cakes and jams and the faces of happy clients enjoying my food.