I grew up in a family where food was never just something you picked up on the way home. It was part of the rhythm of everyday life.

My parents had both lived through the Great Depression, and I think that experience stayed with them for the rest of their lives. Our pantry was always well stocked, and waste was something to be avoided whenever possible.

My dad served in the Navy, and my mom was an RN. I’m the youngest of four children, and trips to the military commissary were serious business. It wasn’t close to home, so when Mom went grocery shopping, she made it count. Two full shopping carts at checkout wasn’t unusual.

She bought staples in bulk—including milk.

One of Mom’s Tricks

The milk wasn’t quite what I thought it was.

Now, you might reasonably wonder how a family could possibly use all that milk before it spoiled.

Mom had a system.

She froze it.

When we needed another gallon, she would thaw it and mix it with powdered milk to stretch it even further. As a child, I couldn’t understand how anyone could drink powdered milk because I thought it tasted awful.

It took me years to realize that much of the “regular milk” I’d been drinking growing up wasn’t quite as regular as I thought. Apparently Mom had been fooling me all along.

Growing Up

The Kitchen Table

We didn’t go out to dinner much when I was growing up. Dinner was at home, and we sat around the kitchen table together night after night.

And almost every night, somebody spilled a drink.

I’m not exaggerating.

It happened so regularly that it became part of dinner. We’d sit down, somebody would knock over a glass, the mess would be cleaned up—and then apparently we were ready to eat.

Those ordinary evenings probably didn’t seem particularly important at the time. Looking back, they were.

“Some of our strongest memories have a way of finding their way back to food.”

At Home

Why the Kitchen Still Matters to Me

Maybe that’s why the kitchen remains one of the most important rooms in my own home.

It’s my happy place.

I can disappear into the kitchen for hours, experimenting with a recipe, baking bread or taking something ordinary and figuring out how to make it just a little more special.

But what I love most isn’t really the cooking itself. It’s what happens around the food.

It’s having family gathered around the table. It’s making something because you know someone loves it. It’s pulling out a recipe that immediately reminds you of another kitchen, another holiday or someone you miss.

A Thanksgiving Memory

The Purple People Eater

One Thanksgiving after we moved into our home, I was finally able to host dinner there for the first time.

My mom and my middle sister were able to come, which made that Thanksgiving especially meaningful to me. My sons and their wives couldn’t make it that year, so it wasn’t quite the complete table I had hoped for—but it became a special memory for an entirely different reason.

I made a purple sweet potato casserole for the first time.

Mom loved it.

And because it was purple, she promptly christened it “The Purple People Eater.”

Mom is no longer with us, which makes that little memory mean even more to me now. Of all the things I could remember about that Thanksgiving, I love that one of them is her sitting at my table, enjoying something I made and giving it a name that still makes me smile.

So around here, it isn’t simply purple sweet potato casserole anymore.

It will always be Mom’s Purple People Eater.

And yes, I think that recipe deserves a permanent place here.

Welcome to My Table

The recipes are only part of the story.

At Home with Roxie started with recipes, but I’ve realized over the years that the stories surrounding those recipes matter just as much.

This site has grown to include our home, decorating, gardening, projects, family traditions and all the other things I seem to get myself into. But the kitchen is still at the heart of it.

Because whether I’m baking a loaf of sourdough, trying a new recipe or preparing a holiday meal, I’m really doing much the same thing my mother did all those years ago: feeding the people I love and creating memories around the table.

I’m glad you’re here.

Stay Awhile

There’s always something happening around here.

Come back to the kitchen, wander around the house, see what’s growing in the garden or find out what project I’ve gotten myself into next.

At Home with Roxie

Good food. A well-loved home. A curious life.