So I went with nostalgia vs. the norm even though we do have some spectacular colors this year. My best memories of fall have always been the crisp air coming into a hot humid house full of the aroma of baking. My Mom is an amazing artist in the kitchen. I remember quite literally hundreds of donuts dripping from dowels at harvest time, the lid popping on jar after jar of peaches late into the night, and scores of pies - mostly apple with a dusting of those special pecans pies just for Grandpa. It was a breathtaking sight that put the senses into dizzying spirals of joy. This week we made four peach pies, not the apple of my childhood, but then peaches were held with reverence and a jar was not opened until the first snow flake flew. Words can't do the aroma justice and it can't be captured in picture so close your eyes and see where your senses take you. No special ingredient needed.
1 year ago