Thursday, April 16, 2015

Honey & Jam: Seasonal Baking from My Kitchen in the Mountains

honey and jam

In a little under a month, my first cookbook will be on book shelves. Actual book shelves in actual bookstores. I can’t say how crazy that is to me. This book, filled with recipes created in my kitchen and photos taken on my little table by the window, will soon be in your hands.

honey and jam seasonal baking from my kitchen in the mountains

Mostly, I feel thankful. Thankful that I got this opportunity. That I got to create recipes I love, and take pictures of the place I love, and now I get to share them with you. The book is a personal one, it's not only a baking book, but also a love letter to the southern Appalachians, the place that inspires me. We tried to include as many photos as possible, and I'm so happy with how it came together.

honey and jam seasonal baking from my kitchen in the mountains

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how this came to be - I want to go back to 2008 and pat my 18 year old self on the head and tell her it’ll be okay. That this little website you are creating will one day lead you to something you never thought you’d be able to do. 

I’m excited (and nervous!) to share this with you - I hope it brings a some goodness into your day and leaves you with a kitchen full of cake and a little taste of my home.

honey and jam seasonal baking from my kitchen in the mountains

If you’d like to preorder, here a few of ways of going about that:


barnes and noble

honey and jam seasonal baking from my kitchen in the mountains

Honey & Jam: Seasonal Baking from My Kitchen in the Mountains will be available in bookstores May 12th.

Thursday, January 15, 2015

love & loss

March 3rd.

Six weeks ago my mom passed away. I’ve been trying to think of a more eloquent way to start this, but that’s all I’ve got. It’s the overwhelming truth that has defined each and every day since. My mama is gone and I’m not sure how to start. It’s the first thing on my mind when I wake up and the last thing I think of before I fall asleep. My mom, my anchor, my best friend isn’t here with me anymore. One day I was eating pizza with her and the next she was gone.

There’s so much I want to say about her. I don’t know how. I don’t know how to convey her spirit to you. Anything less seems not enough. I wish I could share with you her laugh, a laugh so loud it’s how I found her in the grocery store as a kid. I can’t seem to talk about her to anyone yet, other than my family. And most of the time, it’s just whispers of memories and tears and nodding our heads in understanding. One day I’ll be able to share more, but for know, let me say this: There was nothing better than being loved by her. 

January 22nd.
Her favorite place to be in the summertime.

The one thing I can talk about - need to talk about, is grief. It’s something I knew nothing of. I don’t have a big extended family and I lost both my grandmothers and my mom’s father before I was born or before I could understand. I had no idea what was coming.

I didn’t know, as CS Lewis said, that grief would feel so much like fear. Or even more so, that it's not a singular feeling at all. It's not just sadness because someone's gone. It's multifaceted in the worst way. You feel it in everything you do. It's anxiousness and loneliness and fear and longing for someone so much your body actually aches and so much more.

It feels like a curtain that separates you from the normal world. Last week I was checking out at the grocery store and the nice older man at the register smiled at me, commented on how beautiful the day was and asked me how I was doing. I felt so irrationally angry and confused. How can people be happy? I thought. How is it possible that the world is still spinning? Each new day spins me farther and farther away from her and that feels impossibly cruel.

There are moments it still makes no sense to me. How is it that the woman I love so much, who was so full of love and strength and opinions and humor and intelligence is no longer here? How is she not around to bug me about updating this blog and make really bad pie and plant pansies in her garden? How can it be that my dad is without his wife and my brother and sister their mother? Sometimes the weight of it is so overwhelming I feel my body physically can't take it. 

A last Christmas gift from her.

The other day, someone said to me that mourning was beautiful because it's about love. I spent the afternoon thinking that over and getting more and more angry. How can you say this is beautiful? It’s crying so hard you can't breathe. It's spending hours and days in bed and feeling like you'll never be okay again. It's begging God to make it better. To change it. But then there are these moments when I see her in myself. Her strength. All that she poured into me for 24 years. I remember the hours and hours we spent talking. The hours she spent praying for me. I see her in my dad and my brother and sister. Those moments are beautiful. And that makes me so incredibly grateful that God gave me her.

  There's a passage in one of my favorite books, Prodigal Summer by Barbara Kingsolver that says "I thought I wouldn't live through it. But you do. You learn to love the place somebody leaves behind for you.”. I don't know if that's true yet, but I see glimmers of it. She left me a very good place.

"Grace taught my soul to pray,
And made my eyes o'erflow;
"'Tis grace has kept me to this day,
And will not let me go."

I have plans to be around a lot more in 2015. My mom was honey & jam's biggest fan and would be so mad if I didn't continue writing here. I have lots of things I want to tell you about - the biggest being that cookbook I have coming out in May. I'll be back soon.

Monday, February 17, 2014

the woods are lovely, dark and deep.





February 16th.






A day out in the woods with friends is one well spent.

Wednesday, January 15, 2014

winter & black pepper buttermilk biscuits.


January 12th.

aIMG_3037 copy


It seems to me that winter gives you the space to be melancholy. More than any other season. Maybe it's all the darkness, these short days. The sadness moves in and sits under the surface, underneath those bare branches. I think it also brings a certain kind of mindfulness. It's easy to find beauty in other seasons. Winter forces you to pay attention. To look for good things. Firewood, all piled up. Smoke scented air. Walks in the chill. These two - the sadness and the mindfulness, they seem to temper each other.

It's a season of baking, too. That pull to be in the kitchen, the warmest part of the house. It has me baking a lot of biscuits. Biscuit making is all about technique. Grating your butter is the easiest way to make sure it stays cold. I like it a lot better than cutting it in with a knife and fork. I've learned to knead the dough a few more times that I think I should - I was scared of tough biscuits, but you need to work the gluten a bit so they hold together well, and the folding gives you the layers everyone wants in a biscuit. Be sure to bake until your tops are well golden. Eat em' warm, and enjoy some of that winter beauty.

Black Pepper Buttermilk Biscuits
makes 12

3 cups all purpose flour, (white lily if you can get it.)
1 tablespoon baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1/2 cup cold salted butter
1 1/4 cup buttermilk

Preheat oven to 400.

Grate butter into a small bowl with large side of a cheese grater. Stick in the freezer.

In a large bowl, whisk together flour, baking powder, salt and pepper.

Add in butter and cut it in with a fork. Pour in buttermilk and stir until dough comes together in a shaggy dough. Knead a 5-7 times in the bowl, then turn out on a floured work surface. Pat dough down to 1/4 inch thick, then fold over and pat down again. Fold over once again, then cut out rounds using a biscuit cutter or floured glass.

Place biscuits side by side in a cast iron skillet. Top with more black pepper. Bake for 15-18 minutes, or until golden brown.