Eat To Live
My mothers grandparents were farmers in Kansas. My mom still recalls Grandma Adams grabbing a chicken from the barnyard, deftly wringing its neck and serving it hours later for dinner. Moms stories of her childhood on the family farm both fascinated and horrified me when I was a little girl. My suburban upbringing distanced me from the source of many favorite meals. Yet my parents made great efforts to keep our family as closely connected to our food as possible. Dads garden provided an array of fresh veggies and there were regular trips to the farmers market for locally grown produce. We bought eggs from a man who raised chickens nearby and a dairy delivered quality milk in glass bottles to our home. Providing our family of eight with the best food possible was my parents priority.