When my mother was about seven, she remembers padding barefoot along a well-worn sandy path that connected her southern West Virginia farm to Aunt Grace’s. My great aunt’s house was a weathered wooden structure flanked by two great pine trees, resting in a horseshoe of luscious, green hills. She remembers the lovely, sweet scent of roses, phlox and heliotrope coming from her garden. But the delicious smell that stamps itself in her memory is one of freshly baked pies wafting from her kitchen window. Best of all, dear Aunt Grace lovingly we...

While growing up in Michigan, our family lived in an older, quaint neighborhood with mature trees and well manicured lawns. Throughout the years, neighbors would come and go, but there was one couple that lived next door that made a lasting impression on all of us. The Cochrans were a worldly, middle-aged couple with no children of their own. In retrospect, I am certain that our lively family of seven probably seemed hectic to the reserved pair, although I think they enjoyed our chaos. All of us children loved the Cochrans and relished any oppo...

While growing up, my family would occasionally stop after church for lunch at a neighborhood diner. When my daddy pulled into the parking lot, all of us kids went crazy with excitement because back then, eating out was a special treat and it didn’t happen often. Of course there were restrictions, my parents limited all five of us kids to choose just one item for lunch with water to drink. The choices were usually a cheeseburger or a piece of pie, but never both. For my siblings, this was always a difficult decision, but not for me....

When I think of my mother, I think of her in the kitchen. She loved to cook and bake and deemed it as her hobby. All I know for sure is something magical happened in our tiny, turquoise kitchen and our family’s breakfasts, lunches and dinners were the miraculous proof. My favorites dishes were her chicken and dumplings and lasagna, but mostly I loved her pies, especially her rhubarb custard pie. When my mommy made pies for church potlucks and family reunions she always, always brought home an empty pie tin. My Daddy always t...

My daddy grew up in a farm in Michigan during the Great Depression. Though he was an only child, his extended family was large and like most families back then, lived close by on nearby farms. Sunday and holiday dinners were much anticipated and memorable, especially Thanksgiving and Christmas. Grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins flooded my great-grandfather’s large, self-built farmhouse for a lovely, festive dinner. There were plenty of traditional Midwestern foods that the family contributed straight from the fruit cel...

While growing up, my dear maternal grandmother lived nearly 500 miles away, so we were unable to spend the Christmas holidays together. However, my grandma always made it special by sending our family a Christmas box filled with presents and delicious homemade foods. My brothers and sister and I eagerly anticipated the call that the box had arrived at the bus station. We all drove down together in the family station wagon to bring it home. On Christmas morning, it was always the last box to be opened, yet certainly the sen...

Watch the "Lemon Meringue" VIDEO on Fox 17 Grand Rapids - click here   My father grew up during the depression on a small farm in Michigan. Like most folks during that troubled time, they did not have much money. Fruit that didn’t grow in your own backyard was considered special and hard to come by. When my grandmother made lemon meringue pie, it was for special occasions only, such as Easter or company dinners. One summer Sunday in 1937, Reverend Frye was scheduled to come to dinner at my father’s farm. My grandmother awoke at dawn to m...

I remember the mixed emotions in the house back in the seventies, when my father announced that he and Mom were attending a convention in Miami, Florida. My mother was especially excited, for Miami was becoming quite the hot-spot for vacationers. Of course, all five of us kids were excluded from this mini vacation: hence, we were extremely disappointed. For just days before I had read in a cookbook about key lime pie and how popular it was in Florida and most importantly, how delicious an authentic one was. I asked my pare...

To me, my Grandpa was a quiet, melancholy man, unable to find peace from my Grandma’s death years before I was born. However, on one summer evening, many years ago, I saw a different side t o him that I will always treasure. My Grandpa and I were talking on his front porch when the subject turned to my Grandma’s cooking.  Suddenly, his stoic demeanor changed as he smiled and reminisced about her tender pork roast, bread & butter pickles and her delicious blueberry pie. He said that my Grandma always made a blueberry pie for his birthda...

Watch Linda's "Blackberry Raspberry" VIDEO on Fox 2 TV (Detroit) - click here   While growing up, my family would spend a week camping near Sleeping Bear Dunes in northern Michigan. The big lake was breathtakingly beautiful, but routinely ice cold. As kids, we didn’t care and frolicked in the waves from dawn until dusk. One of the highlights of our week was going to Leland, a charming little village on the harbor.  We would browse the unique shops and take home fresh smoked whitefish, bread and cheese.  We also wou...