CHAPTER 1

Family

I come from a mixture of one-quarter old Hollywood glamour and three-quarters hardworking, God-fearing country roots. I attribute my slight addiction to stilettos and shiny frocks, along with a bit of my mischievous nature, to my Grandmother Burrell, on my mama’s side. She grew up in a well-to-do household in Beverly Hills, California, dining out at The Brown Derby. She fell head over heels for my charmingly Southern grandfather from the hills of North Georgia. Papa Burrell had had a hard life and grew up working for every penny he was afforded. He even had to quit school as a boy to go to work.

My mama’s folks met at a dime store in California when my Papa Burrell was stationed out west in the Army. He told his buddy right then and there, “Now, that’s the girl I am going to marry.” They fell fast and were married. After using up his furlough days, he even went AWOL to extend their visit to Georgia to see his parents. Since it was wartime and he was being sent to Hawaii, his forgiving superior officer turned a blind eye to the offense. He spent four years in the Army, where he served under the great General Patton and was awarded two Bronze Stars. I would sit, all ears, as Grandmother Burrell retold the hysterically romantic story of getting off the train in Georgia, walking far up the dirt road in her stilettos, and losing a heel on her way to meet her new family. She was a reverse Beverly Hillbilly! She came to the South with no experience at all in the kitchen—why, the first time she cooked corn for her husband, to her surprise it turned into popcorn right there in the pan! But she transformed into a brilliant homemaker.

On my daddy’s side of the family, my Papa Bramlett met Grandmother Bramlett at a friend’s birthday party in Demorest, Georgia. They were secretly married when she was sixteen. Her daddy did not want her to marry that young, so they snuck off to Walhalla, South Carolina, where you can still get married today if you’re sixteen. I always thought that was so incredibly romantic! They were so very sweet. Papa was a farmer. He grew vegetables and drove them over two hours to sell at the farmers’ market in Atlanta. Papa sang in a men’s quartet and had the most charming welcome: when anyone would walk in the house, he would sweetly sing hello—I still hear his melodic greeting and even use his welcome a lot myself! Grandmother and he lived on a farm, where they would give us kids truckbed rides through the pasture on Sunday afternoons. There was a rickety old bridge over the creek that we swore was always about to give way, and we’d hold our breath every time we crossed it. He never worried, though. He drove over that thing like it was built of steel! My grandmother is one of the most loving people I know. She taught me to forgo handshaking and to just go on in for the hug. She exudes love and mercy. Her philosophy is “The more, the merrier—we can always make more biscuits!” We recently celebrated my dear Grandmother Bramlett’s ninety-first birthday. I’m so grateful to still have her in my life. Her father, interestingly enough, also traveled with a gospel quartet. I think both those fine tenors would’ve really gotten a kick out of our band!

My parents met at school in Cornelia, Georgia. My daddy was a rough, mischievous yet adorable rascal, a bit like his own daddy. My mama was a prim, proper angel just like her mama. When she and my daddy started dating, she would make him call her as soon as he got home after their dates, not trusting him to go straight home. She clipped his wings a little, and that thrilled his mother and sisters, who constantly worried about his safety. My daddy’s whole family fell in love with his gal! My folks married young and had me first. Five years later, my sister, Paula, came along. I adored her instantly! Paula and I got along great. We never fought, and still to this day we don’t fight. She’s my best friend. But we did get ourselves into trouble a great deal. We joke that she and I just about killed one of the peach trees that used to grow in the yard because of all the switches that had to be taken from it to set us straight!

When I was seventeen, I went off to college to study music in Birmingham, Alabama. When my parents took me back to school after Christmas of my freshman year, they stopped at a pharmacy and, unbeknownst to me, bought a pregnancy test. They bought the test there in Birmingham because had they bought it in our small-town pharmacy, folks would have thought it was for me! Nope! Mama was forty-one and had a baby on the way! In those days, a forty-one-year-old pregnant woman might as well have been Abraham’s wife, Sarah. My brother, Joshua, was born when I was nineteen. He was incredibly cute, and we spoiled him rotten. I can’t imagine what our family would be like today if it hadn’t been for that little surprise.

Grandmother Bramlett was a wonderful cooking teacher, and Josh used to sit on the counter to watch her cook. He especially loved to watch her make breakfast in the morning. Once when he spent the night with her and Papa, he walked into my grandparents’ room the next morning and announced, “Breakfast is ready! Don’t know how to make coffee.” That little fellow had cooked an entire breakfast! He was only five years old!

The dishes in this chapter are dishes we have shared in our family for years. Some I have tweaked a touch, and others I would not change for a million dollars.