Food

Growing up on the New River in Fort Lauderdale, we had neighbors across the street named Doc and Betty Burrows. Their property was called Little Florida, and for much of my childhood, their house felt like an extension of my own. I am the last of a large family, and I didn't really get the chance to know my grandparents before they passed away. Doc and Betty filled some of that space for me. They were like grandparents who happened to live next door. They were snowbirds and s

Every night around dinner time, Buddy starts watching me a little more closely. If I'm running late, he'll let me know. First comes the look. Then the waiting. And eventually, the whimper that basically says, Are we planning on eating tonight or what? After almost nine years together, we've gotten pretty good at understanding each other. Buddy is an 85-pound Black Lab mix and has been part of our family since he was a puppy. He's happy, easygoing, strong, occasionally loud, a

Paul James "PJ" Metzger Sr. & Minette "Munchy" I've learned that memories rarely come back all at once. They arrive in pieces. Sometimes it's a familiar smell. Sometimes it's hearing an old song. And sometimes, it's something as simple as seeing a bowl of potato salad sitting next to a platter of food at a family barbecue. In an instant, I'm no longer standing in my backyard. I'm back on summer vacation, traveling with my family, visiting relatives, laughing around picnic tab

Growing up in a family of thirteen kids, food was never just food. It was part of everyday life. Some of my earliest memories involve cooking with my mom in our kitchen in Fort Lauderdale. We had an old blender with frayed wires that would occasionally shock us while using it. Somehow we kept making desserts anyway. My dad also had a connection to food long before I did. He worked with his Dad in his butcher shop and grocery stores. He worked in food service in the Army, spen