family

the story behind Sunday suppers...

When my husband and I chose to move from Franklin County to Athens 7 years ago, it wasn’t the favorite decision we’d made in the eyes of our families. We are both fortunate enough to say we grew up in small towns that are a part of the same county, and if you’re from a small town, you know what this means. If you’re not, it means that you live within 5 to 10 minutes drive of your parents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and closest friends. It means you attend church with and work with the same people who you’ve known since you were all in kindergarten together. It means that there’s not one stop on your errands or one dinner out that you won’t run into people you know, and know well. Side note: this is not at all to do with why we moved—in fact, these were a lot of the reasons we considered not moving—I just wanted to make sure it’s understood just how much we both love where we’re from. I say all this to try to convey just how big of a deal this move was to our families. We both saw our parents once, sometimes several times a week and it wasn’t uncommon for them to drop by to see our girls on their way home from work or on their way to this and that. So when we moved, we promised my parents that we’d have a standing supper date on Sundays. There’s been an occasional missed Sunday over the years for various conflicts but I can honestly say that 7 years later, there have been very few Sundays (I could probably count them on both hands) that we haven’t had them over for supper, but mostly, driven back home for supper in their home.

I’m going to be super honest, sometimes after a busy week or weekend, it’s hard to commit an afternoon and evening to the drive back home, supper, then back to Athens which, for most of the year, is a on a school night. But to do this gives my girls an opportunity that many can’t say they have—to see their grandparents regularly and to truly know them, to find letters and photos from my friends and high school sweetheart (now their dad) in my old bedroom that’s pretty much the same as when I left it, to play dress up in my old clothes and costumes, and to share a food, laughs, and conversation with their family each week.

When I needed website and social media photos for new plates and patterns, I was struggling with how to best show the pieces in photos because no matter how I set the photo up, something was missing, so I decided to load them up and bring them with me to this week’s Sunday supper. I’m usually in charge of dessert for our meals in Franklin County, so I thought we’d use the new plates for our dessert and I’d try photos then. I made buttermilk lemon scones (buttermilk pie is usually my default, so if you like that, then these are the best of buttermilk pie in scone form—see recipe below), we spread out a blanket in the shade in the front yard like my mama always did with my girls when they were babies, and we had our Sunday supper dessert while I took photos. The resulting images were just what the previous photos of the plates had been lacking—the people who’d use the plates and the experience of eating together. I love the images I have as a result, and I guess I just wanted y’all to know the hands, place, and people you’ll see in future posts because they aren’t just a part of my story, but the whole fun, messy, sometimes crazy, loving, thing. So whether you’re into scones while you catch up on your favorite Netflix series or want to serve them at your families’ version of Sunday supper, the recipe is below!

Buttermilk Lemon Scones (original recipe courtesy of The Unlikely Baker)

1 1/2 tbsp of lemon zest

1/2 cup of sugar

3 cups of all purpose flour (cups packed tight, then sifted)

1/2 tsp of salt

2 1/2 tsp of baking powder

1/2 tsp of baking soda

1 stick of butter, frozen then grated

1 cup of buttermilk

Mix lemon zest into sugar, then add flour, salt, baking soda, and baking powder. Next, mix in frozen, grated butter until little balls of dough form around the butter. Make a well, add in the buttermilk, and mix until all moisture is incorporated. Flour your work surface and pat the dough out about an inch thick. Either cut into traditional scone triangles or use a cookie cutter to cut scones out to place on a lightly greased baking sheet. Bake at 400 degrees for 10-12 minutes or until golden brown. You can make a glaze with one cup of powdered sugar and 1/4 cup of lemon juice to add when scones have cooled. Let me know who you share your scones with—enjoy!

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the story of place

I've always felt a connection to place.  When I think back on times that have been special to me, there's always a specific place associated with these moments.  Almost like a flip book of quick glimpses of all I've experienced, these places have created what is my home, as in the definition of home as "a place where something flourishes, is most typically found, or from which it originates."  Every place is made special by a person, people, or experience; basically, the place tells a story of me.  

And it's not just places I've grown up or lived in, but also new places I come across as I travel.  I'm always hesitant to share pictures from trips I've taken because they all seem to be of the exteriors of old buildings, old doors, windows, or even the floors where I've stood which would probably bore most.  But to me, they're visual reminders of that place, how I felt at that moment, the conversation I was having, even the sounds around me.  These little parts of the bigger whole--the doors, the windows, the walls, the floors--all help tell the history and story of that place.  

The "h" in h.made doesn't just mean "Hudson," (which is why it's not a capital H).  h.made also means homemade, handmade, even history made, and the clay tiles that I make are a way I can share stories.  There's a quote from a Garden & Gun article (May 2016) that completely resonates with me, and the writer says, "It's such a southern thing to wretch beauty out of age, to resuscitate ruin, to long for pretty like oxygen, and to want to share that pretty with as many people as possible."  If I knew the author of this article, I would ask them if they would loan me this quote to be my mission statement!  Basically, I have these images of places, they tell my story, I need to make and paint them, and I want to share them with you.      

Exterior wall of Canterbury Cathedral, June 2016

Exterior wall of Canterbury Cathedral, June 2016