The Olivia Apron.

The Olivia Apron.

The yellow plaid neck bow pops with chocolate brown and white polka dot fabric.

The reverse side of the apron is as wearable as the front with the polka dot design.

Apron strings never looked so good.

The Olivia Apron is available in Half Hostess, Knee Length Hostess, Baby Aprons and Custom Orders.

Fried.

Run.  Walk.  Sunburn.  Work.  Laundry.  Repeat.
This has been my life for the last fourteen days.  Today is my first day off.  Leading up to this Sunday, I had my plan for the day all mapped out for maximum productivity; Eat, Pray, Sew.  And Run.  It was all set.  But, when I arrived at this beautiful fall day I realized- I was a little crispy around the edges.  So I scrapped my plan.

Instead I read, had coffee and chocolate chip cookie-scones at my favorite coffee spot, shopped for groceries and checked in with my Mom, my Dad, and my Grandma Eloise for a few overdue catch-ups.  Rather than beat myself up about not going for my daily run/therapy session I listened to my gut instead.  It was telling me two things.  Relax. Make fried chicken.

By now you know that I've had Southern cooking on the brain.  FForFood and I are rapidly approaching the relaunch of Dinner at Eight.  As I mentioned in Bringing it Home, we are drawing inspiration from our Virginia roots and introducing A Sunday Supper in the South, except here, in Los Angeles, in our nook of the Canyon.   Recipes are being tested.  Cabinets are being stocked.  And the vintage cookbooks, well, they're a pilin' up.
With FForFood away in Virginia reconnecting with her Aunt Babe, I am here, about to reconnect with the cast iron.  This marks my first attempt at fried chicken since The Fried Chicken Catastrophe of 2002.  I'm not worried though,  I have my partner's recipe as a guide,  a flannel sleeve full of tricks, and my trusty apron.
As for the fried chicken that we'll be serving at Dinner at Eight, there's no need to fear, the locally sourced, organic, Lindy & Grundy chicken, will be in the more than capable hands of Kathy Emerson.  Not yours truly....

A Sunday Supper in the South.  October 23rd. Seatings at 7pm and 9pm.
Click here to make a reservation.

The Cherry Pie Apron.

The Cherry Pie Sweetheart Bib Apron.

Finished with cream rick-rack, cream bows, red buttons and the inside of the pockets are lined.

The bows pop with a peek at the reverse side fabric.

This is the "back" of the apron. It's reversible!

       Also available in this fabric, Half Hostess Aprons, Knee Length Hostess and Baby Aprons.

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.