The Healing Powers of Soup

~By Kate H. Knapp If I could go back in time and impart one piece of wisdom to my younger self, it would be to appreciate the soup. Granted, I’ve learned plenty that could benefit the immature me, plus things that would redefine many of the mistakes I have made since those days of youth….

A Not So Rockin’ New Year

~By Katie Blais OK, this might not be the nicest thing to say, but my mom isn’t the best cook. Many a debacle has taken place in our kitchen. One time she set pork chops on fire on the grill-my dad came home from work to charred pork chops floating in a pail next to…

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…

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 ……

Love As Licorice

~By Carl Unger There are two things about me you should know: I love my wife, and I loathe licorice. The former is a simple enough truth-she’s smart, funny and kind, the bee’s knees all around-but the latter is a more complex matter. My hatred for licorice is so pure, so raw, that the barest…

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…