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Cooking memories started early for me…I can remember being 6 and 7 years old spending the Christmas holidays with my grandmother. I would wake to the smell of her bacon frying in her iron skillet… at that moment nothing else mattered.

This contrasted my memories of spending the night with friends and the varying variety of eggs that were being served at their breakfast table… usually rubbery, overcooked, almost plastic in texture, green or gray, burnt and raw at the same time… that takes talent.

My grandmother’s eggs were a works of art… the care and love and just the right amount of bacon grease made hers worthy of a 5-star restaurant.

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It was at her house that I learned to make my very first dish: scrambled eggs. She moved slowly through the steps, cracking the fresh eggs into a large bowl…sometimes allowing me to whip them. She preferred the fork method to whip up volume…adding just the right amount of milk to make the eggs creamy and fluffy, and the importance of salting them before they were cooked so they didn’t taste like salt but the fresh, rich eggs. A careful and constant stirring over medium heat in her cast iron skillet…she didn’t believe in Teflon….the result…fluffy savory eggs the best you ever tasted! Those moments alone with her before the house woke up eager for her breakfast, were some of my fondest cooking memories…she would sip her coffee and let me cut out the biscuits…thank you Mamaw for showing me your love of cooking.

– Dale