Finding Comfort

Finding Comfort

I was worried that I would not be able to find a blog on your website that I could relate to, or even worse respond or comment on. I started on the first blog page and as the number of pages started to accumulate, I felt that there would be no connection because there was no common bond. Then behold the "Finding Comfort" blog caught my eye. I totally agree with your assessment then when people are troubled, regardless of race, creed, or religion, food can offer comfort and solace. Certain restaurant chains often pick up more business during times of economic distress. However, I digress. The main point of this response is to say thank you. When I think of comfort food, I think of my grandmothers. Grandma Fisher and Grandma Ingram were both from Hamlet, NC. Grandma Fisher had two sons and I was her first grandchild. On holidays and special occasions, she would make me my own sweet potato pie. I have two brothers and three sisters and she had no problem showing favoritism to me when it came to making those pies. I think one of the reasons it became part of our common bond was the way I devour it, and the praise I gave her for making it for me. For the record, I believe it also caused my father, (her son) to harbor a tinge of jealousy but that is a story for another time. Grandma Fisher also had a recipe for hot rolls that she took to the grave with her. I have tried to duplicate the recipe, only to produce something akin to a hockey puck.

Grandma Ingram was my mom's mother. She was pure country. Cholesterol was as foreign to her as speaking French. Along with my grandfather, they had a farm on the outskirts of Hamlet. Everything they ate was grown and raised on their land. Grandma Ingram made the best-fried chicken I have ever eaten and her lard biscuits were extraordinary. I would literally eat four or five before each meal. The amazing thing to me was she made them before every meal that she prepared. It did not matter if...