Apple Pie

Growing up, my younger sister, Lacey Beth, was the pie master. Apple pie, specifically. My mom taught her how to make it and she seemed to be able to magically manipulate the pie crust to do as she wished.

I remember the first time she made biscuits. My Grammy was at our house and she watched carefully as mom taught Lace how to make them. When the biscuits came out of the oven, Mom and Grammy declared that they were the best, fluffiest biscuits they had ever tasted. She just had the touch.

How-To: Applesauce or My Heritage

At the age of fourteen, I loudly declared that I hated to cook. My mom had been teaching me a few things about the art of cooking and I had made the family meatloaf recipe one too many times. Cooking meant work and that was something that my self-absorbed, teenage brain wasn't going to welcome with open arms.

Six years later, the summer Brad asked me to marry him, I realized that if I didn't learn to cook these family recipes, then I wasn't going to be eating them. My mom had spoiled me: pies with homemade crust, dill pickles in canning jars, strawberry jam, and yes, the family meatloaf. Mom goes all out for the family, even down to making salad and homemade crescent rolls to take on a family trip out west. If I didn't learn from her, then these family recipes would be gone forever.