© 2012 The Joy of Cooking Trust and the MRB Revocable Trust
Years ago, but not so many years ago, I stood watching a team of draft horses turn a sorghum mill. The slow plodding of the horses and the gentle creak of the mill as we fed the cane through was the soundtrack of the day. Bright, June bug green liquid, thick with sugar, flowed from the mill to a vat beneath which we stoked a hot fire.
I've followed Autumn's blog for a while now. She is my favorite kind of blogger--she focuses on straightforward (but never boring), seasonal food made from fresh ingredients, and her photography is simple and utterly gorgeous. She also has a knack for creating fabulous boozy treats, which I appreciate.
I don't fry things often.
I find that fried things, like most indulgent foods, taste best when savored occasionally. But even that isn't the main reason I shy away from frying.
John and I started working for the Joy of Cooking in the fall of 2010. I had just graduated from college that spring, and John and I decided to work for his family's business. Neither of us had ever thought we'd find ourselves in such a line of work, but Joy has a way of sucking you in.
As a fresh contrast to the rich foods usually served for the Super Bowl, we're here to remind you: Texas Caviar is absolutely delicious. Studded with tomatoes, chiles, and fresh herbs, this "caviar" straddles the line bertween dip, salad, and salsa.
We all need a reset button sometimes. We all get trapped between our immediate concerns and the petty squabbles of the day. We fight with the people we care about over things so small we won't remember them in a few days, while the big stuff--compassion, peace, love--slips away from us without our even noticing. We become so busy that we can't see the beauty two feet in front of our faces.
Gardening is an act of faith. You plant seeds. They sprout or they don't. The ones that sprout may mature or not. There may be hail, torrential rain, drought, late/early frost, birds, insects, or all of the above. But you plant anyway, and you tend, and you weed, and if you happen to be blessed with a combination of persistence, know-how, and sheer luck, you will reap something.
I have always had a bit of a love-hate relationship with canned pickles. While I love them in theory--the taste of late summer in a jar--they usually fall far short of the crisp, briny platonic ideal, becoming increasingly soggy and insipid over time.
Emily Hilliard is the folklorist, writer, and baker behind the beautiful and inspiring pie blog Nothing in the House. Raised in Indiana, she's lived in the Midwest, New England, and the South, and currently resides in Washington, D.C. She holds an M.A.