So smells the memory…

I’ve always loved the smell. Deep, rich, and aromatic, yet the flavor was so bitter!

One afternoon, huddled round a campfire, my friend handed me his cup. I eagerly warmed my hands on the plastic cup.

Then I decided to venture a sip. It actually wasn’t bad.

Returning to my side, my friend asked, “Is there any left?”

“A little,” I smiled.

As he went to refill the cup, I realized that somehow—whether it was the cold outdoors or something else—I’d come to like the brown liquid we call coffee.

Once I felt like I was getting a cold, so I decided to try chewing a few cloves of garlic for a quick cure. Daddy said it worked! I chomped down three, almost gagging as I swallowed. I could feel it all the way down—what a stomachache I had! And I still got a cold. So it was not worth it. However, I’ve always loved the flavor of garlic and continue to use it abundantly in my cooking.

The distinct aroma of liquid smoke is much different than what you smell around a campfire. It brings back memories of making meatballs with my brother, and the cold gooey feel of the raw hamburger and oatmeal as we squished it into balls. It was a long, messy process, but when we ate the meatballs drenched in sauce strong with the flavor of liquid smoke, our time was worth it.

I have a special rule about using vanilla, especially in cookies: always use more than the recipe says, and never measure.

My friend Marlys and I share this conviction, so we love baking together, and always make sure the other has used plenty of vanilla.

Standing by their counter, the Kitchen Aid mixer full of cookie dough fixings, I tip the bottle of dark liquid over the bowl. “Put in lots,” Marlys commands.

“Don’t worry!” I give her a knowing look. The vanilla is what makes our cookies so good. And it’s a valuable secret to know, ‘cause they say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach!

When I was little, I never liked coffee or tea, but I wanted something warm to drink on the cool days like everyone else. So I would fill a mug with apple juice, then sprinkle mounds of cinnamon on top, attempting unsuccessfully to stir it in. I microwaved it on high for a minute and a half, then enjoyed the delectable drink—better than any tea!—of lumpy cinnamon in apple juice.