The Early Years

Our family made an annual pilgrimage from Cordova to Homer visiting Pop and Grandma. At five years old that was the start of it all for me . When I say "start of it all" I mean my love of food... my passion for cooking... the instant gratification of seeing someones smile when you deliver great food.
God Bless my parents they would load up my brother, Ed, and I for this family excursion. Onto the M/V Bartlett for six hours across Prince William Sound to Valdez. We were very lucky to have had an "in". My Father was the 1st mate on the Bartlett and that entitled us to endless trips to the galley when the restaurant was closed. It also meant the occasional state room to sleep in instead of the multicolored plastic cushions removed and lined up for our sleeping pleasure. Then it was into the car and onto the Richardson Highway for another 6-8 hours depending on car sickness, bathroom stops and how many times Dad actually had to "stop the car and come back there". Once we hit Anchorage we would stop in and visit The Craigs get rested up load up with raspberry jam and listen to dad and Dan BS through the wee hours of the morning. Then it was back in the car and onto the Seward highway for Homer... it took about 5 hours to get to Pop and Grandmas and let me tell you that last hour was agonizing as a child! The smell of stale coffee in the car, The Kingston Trio, having to sleep on the "hump" of the back seat floor since Ed had seniority and was just bigger and could beat the crap out me, and the anticipation of seeing the grandparents. I could write a book about these road trips alone.
Once we arrived in Homer we would drive up the hill, driving past our cousins house trying to get a peek and see if they were there. Then up and around onto Pioneer road you could see their little windmill spinning in the front yard. Hopping out of the car I was instantly hit with the smell of fresh cut grass. Up onto the porch and it was another ten steps to the big glass front door. There they were the two people who loved you unconditionally and were always happy to see you! Pop always smelled like old spice and "snoose". He wore a car-hart or vest of some sort. Grandma had the softest skin and gave the best hugs n kisses. They set mom and dad up in the guest room and there was a spot for ed on the couch. Me? well I was set up to sleep on the cot in the kitchen.
Here is where it all started... I would wake up at 5am to the smell of coffee percolating and bacon cooking. I would jump up and help Pop with making biscuits and gravy. We made a batch of chocolate chip cookies every few mornings too. They had this glass cookie jar that sat at the end of the counter. We would invite all the kids from the neighborhood over for cookies. Im not sure how Grandma felt about that, but she was always at the door holding the jar. Pops always tasted the best! Watching everyone wake up one by one come into the kitchen to see what we were up to. I was Pop's little helper and he always let me have the glory for cooking. Grandma even "let me" help with the dishes. She taught me how to separate the silverware as you put it in the dishwasher. It made it easier on Pop when he unloaded the dishwasher;) After Pop passed away my dad brought me Pop's Kitchen Aide mixer, knives, cleaver and that glass cookie jar. I "store" the mixer at dad's house and check up on it every once in awhile. Dad says it still runs like a champ and still makes the best chocolate chip cookies with his grand kids!