First published on February 9, 2015
When I was growing up, almost everything that we ate was homemade.
Oh sure, we would occasionally go out to lunch after church or to dinner when my brother or I won an award at school and McDonald’s was a fun treat here and there.
But everything we ate in our home was lovingly prepared by either my mom or my grandmother, who I was lucky enough to have lived with us my entire childhood.
Everything from cookies to main dishes, even bread, was homemade.
Of course, we didn’t appreciate it while we had it.
I can’t speak for my brother back then but…
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