I remember my first few months grocery shopping in the Netherlands. I’d peruse the stores, translating, hoping I’d find the right ingredients, and looking for familiar brands. The familiar brands were few and far between – but my local Jumbo grocery store stocked Doritos. Yum! I eyed each flavour (yes, spelled with a ‘u’). Nacho Cheese, Natural, and what’s this? Cool American? What the heck does that mean? Curious, I exchanged my Euros for a Cool American flavoured bag of tortilla chips and opened it upon entering my house. I reached in, grabbed and chip and took a bite. Ranch!
There’s nothing that says summer like peaches. My roommate from college had a peach tree in her yard in Big Spring. The tiny tree branches hung to the ground, heavy with gorgeous, juicy peaches. I helped harvest them one Memorial Day weekend years ago, and her aunt turned them into a luscious peach cobbler. This weekend my Belgian friend hosted a BBQ – and asked everyone to bring something. With the sun shining, temperatures warm, and promises of spending an afternoon outside just chilling and grilling, I knew a peach. . . something would be the only thing that would
Before the South was ‘The South’ and the settlers were navigating pine tree forests, swamps, and battling all mess of creatures from alligators to mosquitos to racoons, the women were in charge, like they are from now until eternity, for feeding the families. Imagine the original European settlers, or mind you, the new women of the south’s frustration when they discovered they had to adapt their recipes to exclude the white European flour they had always used to bake bread. With the absence of flour in the South and an abundance of corn, these strong women created a new kind