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By Roger Gregory:
Growin' Up Southern
There are many days, while I’m prepping at the cutting board, preheating our oven or rattling them pots and pans around the stovetop, I stop and think about Mama’s cooking.
How I love the thousands of dinners, breakfasts, sack lunches, snacks and treats she tirelessly assembled, not only for me, but for our whole family. The sheer volume of food she prepared, the ingenious use of the ingredients available to her, leaves me awestruck. Putting it mildly, the butchers, green grocers and shelf merchants were good, but limited, so mom had to improvise like a jazz soloist. Dad worked hard to provide, and mom’s economy did him justice.