My name is Leila and I am in no way a professional chef, or even semi-professional cook. I’m just a girl with an appetite, armed with a sauce pan. I was taught to cook the southern way – a “pinch” of this, a “splash” of that, and cocktails count as appetizers, y’all! My most valuable cooking lessons were learned early on from my Mom (“Cheese is made from mold! Just cut it off, it’ll be fine!“), with some trial and error thrown in. I’ve learned that for every amazing dish you make, there’s bound to be one that just plain sucks. If a piece of bread falls, it will…without fail…fall buttered side down. And if the wine isn’t good enough to drink out of a glass, then don’t bother using it in your recipe! You won’t find overly complex instructions or gourmet dishes here. I keep my food fundamental and fairly easy, but I’m always trying something new! I rarely follow recipes which is part of the reason for this blog – it will force me to write things down. So take a look around and you’re bound to pick up some basics, some family recipes, some “Dos” and probably even some “Don’ts”!
Just a little about me, in case you’re curious… I grew up in Virginia but am now a South Carolinian (and loving it!). I’m super close with my family and more than likely you’ll hear a little bit about them the more you read. I graduated from Virginia Tech in 2009 with an Industrial Design degree – and yes, I realize you probably have no idea what that means but that’s okay. Just know that I may “geek out” on occasion about some new kitchen gadget or appliance. If so, just bear with me. It’ll be over soon!
Wondering about the name of my blog? My Mom and Dad live on Smith Mountain Lake, possibly my most favorite place on Earth, and also quite rural. You might know it as “the sticks”? The closest grocery store is 25 minutes away and the only place to “run out and pick up a quart of milk” is one of the two gas stations up the road. My Mom and I have often discussed bringing the milk truck back and how amazing this lost service could be in a place like Franklin County. The conversation rarely goes anywhere past just that – a conversation – but it always gets me thinking about how nice it is to really know where your food comes from. Putting a face to who’s growing it, knowing where the farm is located, or even, for you city folks, just knowing the name of your butcher. Growing up in a small town, that’s something I took for granted. Mostly because I didn’t realize it wasn’t like that everywhere. So now that I’m living in the big[ger] city, I make it my goal to become a “regular” wherever I can. At the very least, you’re guaranteed the freshest cut of meat in return for a simple conversation over the cash register. 🙂
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