coffee – A Memorable Feast

Here’s To You, Mr. Martinson

~By Sarah Pascarella I’ve been drinking coffee since the ripe old age of eight. My first taste was purely an accident. One Saturday morning, my mother had gotten up from eating breakfast to refill her cup. She returned to the table, coffee pot in hand, a twinkle of mischief in her eye. Before adding to…

My Grandmother’s Little Slice of Heaven

~By Kate H. Knapp When the air outside gets chilly and the leaves begin to turn shades of red and gold, I start to crave the plump and gooey cinnamon rolls my grandmother used to make. Just a whiff of spicy cinnamon, and I am six years old again kneeling on a stool in my…