The Measure of a Meal

~By Heather Ray My daddy is a good cook, the kind who remembers all the ingredients and measures by instinct: another touch of brown sugar or yellow mustard or chili powder to perfect his irresistible caramelized sloppy joe, prepared for a family of four with “oh, about a pound and a half? of ground beef.”…

Lessons from my Grandmother

~By Katie Blais So many memories of my grandmother involve some sort of food and eating.  Picnics at the lake on Sundays in the summer with her green canteen full of lemonade. Coming up from the beach at noon, covered in salt and sun screen and having her make me an egg salad sandwich ……

Don’t Mess With Perf-Egg-tion

~By Emily Workman My Mother’s family, the Jorgensen’s, had very structured guidelines about holiday traditions.  For instance, they always went on a picnic and rolled hardboiled eggs down the steep hills of Logan Canyon on Easter.  In observation of this particular tradition, my Alaskan family and I have ended up shivering inside a car, looking…

Better Than a Star Rating

~By Sarah Pascarella My family is inventive, both with words and ingredients. Traditions get passed down through our own created lexicon and recipes. When my Italian-Irish father makes spaghetti sauce, it’s Nana’s recipe. When my Polish-Irish-German mother makes potato soup, it’s my grandfather’s special concoction. Some of my favorite dishes to prepare now, as an…