I lived in downtown Atlanta all my life, until we started a farm. Taking the reverse track of my grandparents, who worked so hard to get off the family farms and become urban, I have left a great professional career in engineering and sold my house in Midtown to live a rural life. Everyone has been surprised, including me.
Food has always been so central to my life that I couldn’t even call it important as much as ever present. Growing up we had a half acre garden next to our house in Buckhead. Grandfather would start seeds under grow lights in the sheds early in spring. Summers were spent harvesting and leaving baskets of produce along our fence for our neighbors. In the fall Grandmother along with various cousins would freeze, can and pickle what we could before the first frost so we could continue eating from our garden for months. Every meal was made from scratch. And there was always more than enough in anticipation that our family dinner table would often include international students from Georgia Tech or school friends.
All the women in my family, and there are a lot of us, cook. Our weekends together can be broken into; planning a meal, eating a meal, cleaning up from the meal, then talking about the next meal. The ingredients are always fresh and the food abundant.