What started as a food blog has morphed into more or less a personal journal. My marriage, my parenting, my life journey is as likely to appear now as my kitchen work... but there's more than one way to feed a family.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
We spent eight hours in Savannah about ten years ago. All I remember about it, besides Mercer House (of Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil fame), was River Street. It was originally just a bunch of warehouses butting up against the river, waiting for freighters to come into port. Now it is shops and restaurants on a beautiful old cobblestone street.
I listen to a certain podcast and the Louisiana natives who host it were sent some pralines by listeners. They were clear to explain that most people mispronounce the word as pray-leans. In fact, as any southerner knows, it is prah-leans. How embarrassing, I thought. I've mispronounced it all my life! (You know, the three times in my life I've used the word.) We walked into the River Street Sweet Shop and the fellow making the candy offered us free samples of, get this, pray-leans.
"Pray-leans?" I asked. "I was told that true southerners pronounce it prah-leans."
"Southerners? No!" he scoffed. "Maybe in New Orleans."
Made from butter, sugar, heavy cream and local Georgia pecans, they are sooo good.