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Thursday, March 25, 2010

The Purpose

Many of you know, but for almost two and a half years, I blogged under the not-so-anonymous alias of Dawg Food Girl. I lived in Athens, Ga. as a student and self-proclaimed foodie, and Dawg Food was a way for me to enjoy the culinary scene in Athens and have fun doing it, too.

But like many things, Dawg Food became more of a chore than a hobby, and I slowly retreated into hibernation. I knew my time with Dawg Food had passed and that I'd begin blogging again, but I just wasn't sure what my premise would be.

Meanwhile, I successfully graduated from UGA and moved to Atlanta to start my career in public relations and marketing. I dabbled in art, music, home decor and exploring the city because Atlanta is big and has a lot to keep a girl busy.

But I come from simple roots. Born and bred in the hills of East Tennessee, I grew up on family, pancakes on Saturdays, bedtime stories, bare feet and the mountains. There's just something about the simplicities of life that make time slow down a little, traffic seem more bearable and home become so much more of a place of sanctuary and love.

I think many young people living on their own, or with roommates, think that a sense of "home" is a distant concept. For at least 18 years we've been on a year's timeline: finish first grade and move to second; finish high school and move to college; finish junior year and go to senior year. We are such a mobile culture, that I know my internal clock goes off every 4 months thinking, "Why are you still in the same spot? Shouldn't you be registering for classes next semester? This same routine you've been in is way too predictable." We haven't let ourselves feel at home where we live because we think that in 6 months, we'll be in a different place.

Why shouldn't our house/apartment/condo/parents' basement have the same warm, inviting feeling as our mothers' houses? Just because we're young doesn't mean we don't know how to love.

Love runs in my family. So do good cooks.

We all know the feeling you get when you go home for Thanksgiving or Christmas, sitting around the dinner table with family. An hour can go by and, what? You haven't even checked your cell phone? Yes, the intimacy of table conversation is powerful.

Cooking something for someone, even if it's from a box, shows that person in one way or another that you thought about them. I think cooking something in your oven, on your stove or even in your microwave definitely has more "street cred" in the days of ready to go potato salad at Publix.

Cooking not only has its nutritional (or sometimes not-so-nutritional) value, but it also has a very understated emotional value.

That's why I'm starting Cranberry Ice. I want to challenge myself to cook and entertain more, as well as get back to the basics of home grown dinner table intimacy. Without it becoming a hassle.

The name Cranberry Ice comes from an old family recipe that my great grandmother brought with her from South Dakota roots. It's not a very common recipe or dish, but once people taste it they want to know how to make it....and they want another helping.

That's my goal for you, reader. I hope to portray my cooking attempts, ideas and techniques, as well as basic hostessing and entertaining principles that will make you want to know more and then create your own version of Cranberry Ice for your friends and family.

I'm excited to see where we'll journey together. I'm sure there will be mishaps and broken eggs, but I'm ready to go for it. Home doesn't have to be a place you go to on holidays.

Cranberry Ice? Yes, please.

1 comment:

  1. I hope you're going to share the Cranberry Ice recipe here, unless it's a family secret. If that's the case, I must see pictures!

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