The Condiment Queen Reigns Supreme

~By Kate H. Knapp My fascination with refrigerators began long before I can even remember. While Santa was delivering Barbies and My Little Ponies to my other seven-year-old friends, I received a working mini fridge that was the perfect addition to my playtime kitchen. It kept my plastic veggies and fruits ever so crisp and…

Requiem for Raspberries

~By Marissa Neiderhauser It is a memory so old and familiar that it is not really a memory at all. I don’t actually remember picking or eating raspberries with my grandmother. I just know that raspberries are forever inextricably linked with her. Seeing them in the store, hearing them mentioned, running the tip of my tongue along their…

In the summertime…

~By Katie Blais A bulk of my childhood summers were spent at the Swedish Social Club … a men’s club that my grandfather and dad belonged to … it was this huge old building on a lake that turned into a playground for my brother and my cousins and me on those hot summer days. …

Snickers Not-So-Rocky Road

~By Kate H. Knapp Sometimes in life, all the ducks that have been flying aimlessly in circles line up in a perfect row and give you a blissful moment of pure clarity. My ducks came together in the form of a new candy bar. I have resisted gas station candy bars for quite some time now,…

Time in a Pickled Jar

~By Kate H. Knapp The old saying, “One man’s trash is another man’s treasure,” can be aptly applied to my addiction to pickled eggs. Most turn their noses up in disgust at the “rubbery” snack, but I take pure delight in the crumbly yellow yolk wrapped in an elastic vinegar shell. If you’re not familiar…

Small Fry, Well Done

~By Sarah Pascarella I’d like to admit, right here and for all to read, my deep love for the french fry. Not just any old french fry, though. (Although, admittedly, those are quite fine.) I’m talking about my favorite type of french fry–crisp on the outside, dense on the inside, piping hot and just salted…

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 ……