Bringing it Home.

Pungent slabs of Virginia ham on flakey biscuits never far from reach.  Tomato Sandwiches on Pepperidge Farm bread.  Pulling onions right out of the garden and eating them raw.  Green bean casserole.  Macaroni and cheese, heavy with crust.  Endless hours spent swimming in the pool.  Warm towels fresh from the dryer.  Food Everywhere. All the time. A refrigerator so stuffed that it practically let out a sigh when coaxed to close.  Laurence's Grocery.  "One scoop or two?".  Peach soda pop.  A seemingly endless supply of libations.

Dewars was the preferred spirit of my grandparents.  In my grandparent's house this scene is set.  My Grandfather, Jim, was never one to shy away from a good time or a good joke.  He liked to drink, he liked to dance and he loved him some mischief.  His devilish grin rarely ever left his face and sorry was the slowpoke that didn't scatter when he passed by to clunk you on the noggin' with one of his thick fingers.  And as he was the rock of our family, my grandmother Eloise was the heart of the house and undisputedly, the kitchen.  She was the one responsible for those warm towels.  She hand fed us snacks when we swam up to the hot, sizzling concrete edge of the pool, eager for the slice of salted cantaloupe she was offering.  She always kept us full and even if we weren't hungry- a meatball sandwich would appear under of our sunburned noses anyway.  This is the slideshow of my youth in southwest Virginia.

Little did I know that a mere 45 minutes away FForFood was carving out similar childhood memories at her Aunt Babe's dining room table in Roanoke.  As I sat outside of the chicken house helping my grandmother shell almost-too-pretty-to-eat cream and purple speckled beans for dinner, FForFood was spooning heaping forkfulls of her Aunt Babe's shelly beans onto her plate.  As I was crunching my way through the griddled crust of my grandmother's rich potato pancakes, FForFood was lost in the near transcendental creaminess of Aunt Babe's mashed potatoes.  And Now here we are. Tucked into the Hills of Holly and we are about to bring it all home.
FForFood, Kathy Emerson and I will be strapping on our Maggie Mae Aprons and bringing back Dinner at Eight.

Each month we will travel back to "the South" and the furthest reaches of our memories and pay homage to the women that inspired us.  A Sunday Supper in the South by Dinner at Eight is a true family affair and we hope, where you find yourself a memorable dining experience.

To make a reservation, click here. Dinner at Eight.