German potato cakes, or Pennsylvania Dutch oyster dressing or Irish soda bread. I learned one Sunday breakfast of how my great, great grandmother was part Cherokee and that my mother had been chased about the farm by her black bantam rooster when she was just five years old. Seems he didn’t like little girls in his hen house. My mother, even into her adulthood, had still held the scars of that summer. I also learned that if you sing “Backe, backe Kuchen” (a German children’s song she used to hum while baking} the cakes always seem to come out perfect. I have learned since that it was actually her culinary touch – I could sing that song until the cows come home and my cakes are never quite like hers!!

The magic of her storytelling laced with her passion for food fused a love for both into my young soul. While I did not realize the impact of what she shared until years later, I knew that time with her in the kitchen was magical and my favorite place to be. There was always the heady smell of fresh coffee brewing, the sweet scent of fresh bread baking and the delicate sound of her singing. To this day, two of my most fond comfort foods are a rich, fragrant cup of coffee and freshly baked bread. Those could be considered vices I suppose – but for this purpose we will consider them sacred talismans of goodness.