Chicken Noodle Soup

There's something about chicken noodle soup that speaks of home. Maybe it's the warm broth, soothing many a sore throat or steaming red faces fresh out of the snow banks. Or maybe it's the tender chicken and perfectly cooked veggies, wholesome goodness that fills hungry stomachs. Or it could be the noodles, each one slightly different, homemade and hearty.

How-To: Homemade Noodles

Homemade noodles can take a soup from good to amazing. There's something about the texture of a homemade noodle that leaps past the cookie-cutter sameness of store-bought and gives a soup individuality. Store-bought noodles tend to be a little bland and they slip right off your spoon before you are able to get them to your mouth. Homemade noodles are different. Toothsome. Hearty. They put the love in your soup.

Pumpkin Bread

I remember the first time that I had this bread. I think I was about eight or nine years old. We went to a friend's house for dinner after church. It must have been late fall or early winter because I remember it being cold outside. We all sat down to eat dinner and I nervously eyed what lay on the table. I tend to be a picky eater and always dreaded going to someone's house because I was afraid that I wouldn't like what they served. And when you are eight, such things are very important. 

That's when I spied the pumpkin bread in the basket across from me. Ah, here was something I knew that I liked. I don't remember much about the rest of the meal. I'm sure it was all tasty stuff. But I do remember I ate a lot of that bread. I think the hostess noticed too because she gave me the recipe before I left and I've been making it ever since. 

Molasses Crinkles

There's nothing better than getting something in the mail from someone you love. Whether it's a letter, flowers to cheer a dreary day or a homemade treat when you're far away, it's nice to be remembered. 

This seemed to be especially true when I was in college. Package notifications always brought out expectant smiles and quickened my pace to the student center. 

Corn Chowder

Car rides to Maine to visit my grandparents always ended the same. We'd pull into the driveway, the tall red barn standing sentinel on one side of the driveway and the light beckoning welcome from the breezeway on the other. We'd pile out of the car and pass through the porch into the kitchen, usually eyeing a pie or two that sat on the washer to keep cool. Hugs would be given all around, car trip woes related and then we'd sit down for a bite, despite the late hour. 

Really Good French Toast

Decadent. 

I think that's the best word to describe this recipe. Definitely delicious. Definitely Amazing. But mostly, decadent. 

My mom started making this recipe when I was in high school and we all immediately fell in love with it. We would often have it for birthday breakfasts, or let's face it, weeknight suppers. 

Orange Jello Salad

I am fortunate to remember knowing three of my great-grandparents, all on my mom's side. Grandma Tippie-Toes, mom's paternal grandmother lived to be 101 and died when I was a teenager. I have many memories of laughing at her quirky ways and funny sayings. Grandpa Armond and Grandma Dorothy, mom's maternal grandparents, died when I was four, so my memories of them are few, but vivid. 

How To: Freezer Corn

A few weeks ago, I drove out to Amish country and met my mother-in-law at the local farmer's market. It's an enormous sprawling thing with vendors selling anything and everything that can be homemade or grown on the farm. Here someone is selling candies, red fireballs and sugar-dusted gummies and proud looking chocolates, smartly decorated. A lady calls out to look at her fresh baked bread, oatmeal and wheat and cinnamon raisin. The smell of yeast is hard to resist as you pass her by. Another proudly shows her canned goods, peach preserves and raspberry jams standing at attention, tempting you to buy a jar and revisit the baked goods. And then there is the produce. Rows of green and red peppers, bins of green beans and snap peas, peaches and plums carefully placed in baskets, and buckets of unshucked corn. 

Key Lime Pie

Summer is winding down. The days aren't quite so hot and there's a cool breeze playing with my long white drapes. The sycamores are dropping crunchy brown leaves, littering my lawn with their offerings. It's the last week of August and moms are frantically trying to prepare for those first days of school. And I even made an apple crumble the other day. 

Blueberry Muffins or A Morning on a Lake in Maine

It was early morning when my sister and I pulled on our jeans and flannel shirts and snuck out the back door, taking care not to wake the sleepers on the porch. The day before had been chilly and windy, making the lake choppy and unfit for boating. But this morning my eyes had flown open with the realization that I could not hear the breaking of waves on the rocky shoreline. The lake was still.