"I'm good like salt pork in a pot of potatoes." My first place "as an adult" on my own, was a small studio apartment in a duplexish house. I say duplexish because the owner did a terrible job at trying to turn an old house into 4 apartments. Terrible, like when you open . . .
"no one leaves home unless home is the mouth of a shark. you only run for the border when you see the whole city running as well." -Home, by Warsan Shire Sometimes we have to step out into the unknown, moving out of bad places. Sometimes we have to run in the middle of . . .
This has been quite a year. I’ve been away from this space more this year than since I began this blogging journey. Let’s end this year with some thoughts, my feelings going into 2017 and cornbread. My last post ruffled some feathers, which was strange because I’ve . . .
“I realized that this country has gone so flabby that any gang daring enough and unscrupulous enough, and smart enough not to seem illegal, can grab hold of the entire government and have all the power and applause and salutes, all the money and palaces and willin’ women they . . .
Hello... Is anyone still there, because it's been like 5,690 years since I posted a recipe here. Not really but kinda. However, I've never been one to miss a party, especially when it's to celebrate one of my favorite people in this blogiverse/world and all the joy that comes with welcoming a new . . .
Join us Sunday October 23rd at 6pm at one of the best restaurants in Atlanta, Kimball House in Decatur, for a Soul Food Sunday Supper. I'll be slinging fried chicken and biscuits and banana pudding and such. With drinks paired by Miles Macquarrie . . .
Sunday supper season is back! Join us on September 18th at the Atlanta History Center. Tour the farm, drink some wine and enjoy good folks and food! September 18th we'll dine on the historical farm at the Atlanta History Center. Dinner will be prepared over the open . . .
As the kids head back to school, there's a constant bevy of chaos in the mornings that reminds us summer break is truly over. Slowly we try to work our way back into the school-time swing. The best way to start the day off right is with breakfast. Although getting everyone up and dressed is no . . .
"This little light of mine." My grandmother sang everyday, the mornings were when she was at her most holy. No matter what ached, no matter what pained, she sang. A litany of soprano gospel notes flowed from the kitchen doorway to the back room where the screen door stayed ajar. "All in my . . .
There's a little bakery here in Atlanta that sells pastries filled with blackberry or fig jam. They are simply exquisite little gems that are baked into a pillow like brioche and are sheer heaven that you can hold in your hand. Over the weekend I went to work on recreating these treats at home using . . .