WELCOME

North Alabama has always been home. We are surrounded by mountains and lakes, and the white sand beaches of the Gulf are only a few hours south. I have measured much of my life by what is growing, what is cooking, and who is gathered around the table.

Summer comes with silver queen corn, figs, pecans and peaches, fresh-caught snapper and shrimp, and the inevitable question, “is it okra season yet?” The days are hot and long, often ending with family and friends at the lake. Dinner outside has its own soundtrack – opening with a symphony of invisible cicadas piercingly announcing nightfall before quieting into a slow movement of an occasional chirping cricket or bullfrog. Before we know it, the steamy days of summer are gently carried away with an incoming autumn morning breeze, leaves rustling in the wind, and the excitement of another football season ahead. Hydrangeas galore are replaced with zinnias and dahlias to color our tables and our plates are filled with heartier foods. Winter’s lid descends, trapping us under a cold grey impenetrable sky. We bundle up around the outdoor fireplace, roast vegetables and make big pots of creamy comforting soups. Inevitably, the hellebores, anemones, daffodils and tulips encouragingly emerge from the damp cold earth as a sign that spring is not far behind, and we begin dreaming of brightly colored vegetables painting our plates again. Somewhere through all of those seasons, I am usually in the kitchen – with the music turned up and Palmer settled comfortably nearby – slicing, dicing, tasting and creating.

Many of the recipes in these pages began long before my own kitchen. They come from childhood, from family, from people I have loved and places I have traveled. Others came later, collected and adapted along the way. When my husband was diagnosed with celiac disease, our kitchen became gluten-free. I worried that everything about the way I cooked would have to change. Instead, I discovered that most of it didn’t. Good ingredients were good ingredients, and many of the foods we loved needed only a little adjustment.

Over time, I began to realize that the recipes themselves were only part of what I wanted to preserve. I wanted to remember meals in places far from home, flowers cut from my garden, tables filled with family and friends, and the kitchens and people who taught me along the way.

Theses pages are those memories.

Family, food, photography, flowers, fitness and all things French bring me joy. This book is my way of gathering a little of it together – recipes to cook, certainly, but also the stories of where I’ve been, the people I’ve loved and the places I call home.