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I grew up in Lancaster, Pennsylvania.

We played amongst rows of beans and spent hours together in the kitchen. Summer shone with crunchy old-fashioned pickles and homemade vanilla ice cream. Fall arrived with fresh apple pies and cranberry tangerine relish, and wintertime brought the best bread, baked from Grandma’s Old World recipes. I still have those recipes, the paper turning brown, but some of the best Good Food around.

All good things come around, and once grown, I found myself back in one of my favorite places: the kitchen.

Now I was the one with little ones on rickety chairs. Teaching these old recipes to the next generation, making new memories with family and friends. My friends didn’t have the time or passion to be so involved, but they sure loved the flavors they tasted at my table! I would bring my goodies as hostess gifts, teacher presents, and shared my bounty with friends at the holidays. When they began bringing back the empty jars begging for more, I knew I had a business!

What I enjoy most about what I do is watching people, young and old, light up when they taste my food.

For older folks, it brings back memories of a time when food was local, fresh, and prepared with patience and care. For the young ones, it’s just plain Good Food. Watching Sam, age 3, as he tried one of my pickles was a great memory for me. “That’s a good pickle!” he exclaimed to his mom, eyes open wide in delight. Kids never lie.

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