Daddy was everything to us. He was a lot to many and my mother's
whole world. He moved from Los Angeles to a small southern town in
Georgia when he was 16 years old and met my mother shortly after. Mom
was 15 and the rest is history. He left us, very unexpectedly on an
early Spring night. Nothing could have prepared me for it. He was the
pied piper, the epitome of a fine man, the definition of love, all the
reason I turned out to be me. He was kind and gentle, inspired me every
day to see the good in people. He inspired the adventure in me. It's
why I grew up in a small southern town on a cotton and pecan farm and
have seen so much of the world that most folks will never see.
I always packed a cooler on my way home to the farm and took Daddy things he just couldn't grow on the farm. Italian prosciutto, spicy tuna roles from my favorite sushi place, homemade fennel sausage lasagna from Bacchanalia (one of two, 5 star Michelin restaurants in Atlanta.) He liked tiny blueberries from Vermont from Whole Foods to put on his Raisin Bran every morning. And the late summer 'wild king salmon' I got at the fish market. I brought him Peach Bread from Breadwinners Bakery. The finest olive oil and balsamic vinegar from Italy. I always brought him several boxes of Lily O'Brien's sticky toffee chocolates from Ireland along with a loaf of local soda bread. He loved the whole cranberry sauce Amy turned me on to from the LA Farmer's Market.
Daddy was everything to us. He was a lot to many and my mother's whole world. He moved from Los Angeles to a small southern town in Georgia when he was 16 years old and met my mother shortly after. Mom was 15 and the rest is history. He left us, very unexpectedly on an early Spring night. Nothing could have prepared me for it. He was the pied piper, the epitome of a fine man, the definition of love, all the reason I turned out to be me. He was kind and gentle, inspired me every day to see the good in people. He inspired the adventure in me. It's why I grew up in a small southern town on a cotton and pecan farm and have seen so much of the world that most folks will never see.
I always packed a cooler on my way home to the farm and took Daddy things he just couldn't grow on the farm. Italian prosciutto, spicy tuna roles from my favorite sushi place, homemade fennel sausage lasagna from Bacchanalia (one of two, 5 star Michelin restaurants in Atlanta.) He liked tiny blueberries from Vermont from Whole Foods to put on his Raisin Bran every morning. And the late summer 'wild king salmon' I got at the fish market. I brought him Peach Bread from Breadwinners Bakery. The finest olive oil and balsamic vinegar from Italy. I always brought him several boxes of Lily O'Brien's sticky toffee chocolates from Ireland along with a loaf of local soda bread. He loved the whole cranberry sauce Amy turned me on to from the LA Farmer's Market.
I packed my bags on an early April morning and went home to the farm where I grew up. Nothing could have prepared me to lose Daddy. There is something to be said; a lot to be said for growing up in a small town. No amount of money could buy the love and support. Every casserole and cake; fresh fried chicken, potato salad, and sweet Sylvia's mexican food from her restaurant.......it's all the reason why I have loved writing for "One For The Table" as my life has been and continues to be shaped by love, food and some politics too.
After the last casserole dished was returned, I sort of panicked into thinking what we would eat. There's only one real grocery store called "Harvey's" and you can't plan a meal by it; sort of a third world grocery store by my standards. Sometimes they have goat cheese and that's about as fancy as it gets. And there's also "Harris Grocery" which has been around since 1873; ok that's an exaggeration but not really. My niece holds her nose when we walk in the door; the smell of ham hocks and pig knuckles and cured pig tails makes her sick, so she says. But the finest chicken and sausage you could ever put on a grill. The place is half the size of your living room. I am first in line there on Thursdays as an old couple delivers cakes that day. 12 layer chocolate, caramel and red velvet. Sometimes I get all 3 but always the chocolate.
Daddy spent his entire life, making the world a better place. He left me not only a legacy of his wisdom, knowledge, love and adventure but he left me perhaps what is the finest food I have ever known. The 2,000 pecan trees he left are producing the best crop in the state of Georgia, according to the pecan experts. The pomegranates are beautiful and almost ripe. The Mission Figs and all the other figs are ripe and just as beautiful to look at, much less eat.
I walk our new puppy out there every morning, as the sun is rising and eat them off the tree. The tomatoes are more red and delicious than any 'heirloom' I have ever had at the 'heirloom tomato festival in Carmel.' The eggplants are the most beautiful purple color that I've ever seen. The pears are so delicious that I bake them at night with a bit of brown sugar and butter. I put the zucchini and squash on the grill at night with filets from M&T Meats from across the river.
I am delighted to see that the olives trees are producing. Not sure what we are going to do with them but it's a new crop in Georgia and of course Daddy could grow them. What a breathtaking field of sunflowers he planted that bloomed this month. And I remember the lecture he gave me recently about the grass he was growing in the pecan orchard to turn into 'hay.' If you've never witnessed hay being bailed in the the early dawn of a summer's morning; it's quite lovely.
To think I was always convinced that I was doing Daddy a favor with all that fancy food I brought home. It makes me grateful for the time we spent together.
Laura grew up in a small southern town in Georgia on a cotton and pecan farm where life centered around family, friends and good food. She has lived in Atlanta for 20 years and has been a Flight Attendant for a major airline for 18 years, traveling the world in search for the next best meal.