Home Cookin'

My neck needs work on a fairly regular basis so my physical therapist and I have come to know each other well enough that we use the familiar form "du" instead of the stiff "Sie."  That's not always a given, being on a first-name basis here, and I have come to appreciate it.

Thomas and I talk a lot about food while he's giving me pain.  A few weeks ago I took him a few pieces of fudge I'd made and he was over the moon and had to have the recipe.  I took it to him and when I saw him next, he said I'm making futch next weekend.  What?  Futch.  Good grief, what is that??

Ah, pronunciation.  Some English letters get transposed in weird ways by native German speakers.

I love German food and we eat "local" a lot.  But there are little things from home that mean a lot to me.  Among others, '"futch" and cornbread.

I'm quite sure Mother had one of these cast iron pans, but I've no idea what happened to it.  I got this at an estate sale in Tallahassee about 25 years ago.  It was already old, and I had to have it!  Corn sticks! Yum!!

It's the perfect amount for me and Werner when I crave cornbread with something - greens, chili, Hoppin' John.  I think sometimes I fix certain food just so I  can have cornbread.  Tonight it was chili.

Here's to your cravings.