I am from Sunday dinners at Grandma Cil’s: Perlo Rice, Mac n’ Cheese, Collard Greens, and perfectly fried chicken.

I am from steamed shrimp and crabs for the holiday—from “y’all can have the claws,” and “what’s that yellow stuff?” and “don’t eat the ‘dead man’ unless you wanna be a ‘dead man.’”

I am from frozen cups, sunflower seeds, and tootsie rolls from the church store.

I am from food with soul, from kitchens that held space for healing, love, and community.

My mother’s family did not cook. Meaning her mother did not cook. I don’t recall much other than a few holiday meals there…

My father’s family cooked. They didn’t have much money but food was always on the table in my grandmother’s kitchen. From 4 am when she got up, there was instant coffee and the fluffiest white bread on the table… through family meals with the driest roasts you can imagine and veggies from a can. Pepsi with ice was poured early and sat in the refrigerator so it was oddly watered down.

We drank out of cups procured through green stamps or gas station give aways. Desert was always a Tastycake. And, boy were they good.

We still talk about these food traditions to this day and my granny’s kitchen is always a warm, safe, welcoming memory for me.

I am from the green beans I snapped and prepared with my grandmother from the front porch step and helping prepare from my own special kitchen stool for our family dinners, accompanied by canned pickled beets and green tomatoes.

I am from my grandmother's lap where I ate from the big bowl of leftover turnip greens or squash and zucchini, eating ham sandwiches from leftovers with the canned peaches we prepared from the peaches picked from the two peach trees in their yard and going into the basement chest freezer to get my favorite ice cream sandwiches for dessert.

I am from the weekend adventures with my mom and grandmother picnicking with sandwiches, crisp apple slices and homemade iced tea while we visited the local farm to watch the piglets run through the mud...

I am from...home-cooked no-frills meals from two busy parents with tight budgets and tight schedules. No restaurants, no pizza delivery. No sauces, no seasonings.

I am from... drive-thrus and microwaves, corner stores and vending machines, ramen and popcorn - just the two of us (Mom & I), surviving and doing the best we could.

I am now Sunday brunches with Mom, cooking for her, treating her to delicious meals, breaking bread and making memories to cherish.

regular visits with my Grandma Krikau, spending time in the kitchen baking coffee cakes, cinnamon rolls and cloverleaf rolls and watching my family excitedly eat them. Watching her mix the dough by hand with only a wooden spoon. Grandma and I spent Christmas holidays baking 10 types of cookies with a bag of all purpose flour that was half my size (need to find the photo from a box).

I am the little girl at the corner of the dinner table at my Grandma Rietschel’s house – proudly sitting next to her in my special chair (which was actually a step stool). I am the little girl checking the candy dish to see if she may have filled it with M&M’s or Fannie Mae’s Mint Meltaways. I am also the little girl avoiding the beets and pineapple side dish because beets were (and are) my nemesis.

I am the teenager watching my parents make homemade German sausage using my grandma’s recipe and sharing that gift with my cousins who continue to make it for their families.

I am an adult who barely cooks but avidly bakes and loves to share the sweets with family and colleagues.

I am from hot dogs and chips at the bingo hall with Nana while we watched our 36 cards each.

I am from pierogis and kołaczki and mushroom soup for Wigilia, and leftovers making the best Christmas morning treat.

I am from mostaccioli and Hamburger Helper and pork chops, and Mom making it work for family dinner every night.

I am from Girl Scout Cookies and World's Finest Chocolate sales, from Capri Suns and orange slices while I tried to play soccer, from mystery meat camp food during summers at band camp.

Now, I am from a whole new family with my spouse, from dolmades and braided sweet bread, from Utz chips with sliced cucumbers in vinegar, from Thrashers french fries every summer on the beach where we got engaged.

Monday, we would start with hotdogs from the grill with a meat chili sauce on top from this big pot and all the red sticker super on sale meat. (Not beef, meat. Some interesting mixes through the years. Tuesday, the beans were added and we had bowls of traditional chili. Wednesday, the potatoes were added. Thursday, the left overs were poured over pasta. Those weeks we always did Pizza on Friday. Probably a way for mom and dad to save up for that pizza on Friday, but I loved the whole week and look forward to the first days of fall to make myself a pot of chili.

As, a New York Native, I can say I am extremely “spoiled” to having a world-wide passport to a huge plate of unique foods that’s full of diverse ingredients and rich flavor’s that goes beyond your traditional city scope. New York, New York is the place to be and eat!!! 😉😋

Everything in the kitchen came from the land and was canned, dried, cooked or baked in some way shape or form.

Fresh food was the most valuable resource possible and every perfect and imperfect product came from it. It brought us together from husking hundreds of ears of corn, to helping grandma can everything, to aiding grandpa in the fields.

Chocolate chip zucchini muffins was one of our staples. From garden to the oven- we made hundreds of muffins as a team. Frozen for our trips to the beach and to enjoy far into October.