While in Texas, I had a chance to speak at St. Mark’s Episcopal Church in San Antonio. They hosted a “Food and Faith” luncheon that included recipes from the blog and the book and some great jazz piano. They also recorded my talk and have it available to listen and download at their website. You…

I have spent the day traveling from Durham to Fort Worth where I am speaking at First United Methodist Church tomorrow. They read my book during Lent and asked me to come and share Communion in worship and dinner tomorrow night. I have spent the evening eating and talking with new friends from the church…

For Valentine’s Day, Ginger gave me a waffle iron. Actually, she gave me a replacement waffle iron. She gave me one several years ago that I wore out making waffles when I worked at the restaurant at Duke and I wanted to put chicken and waffles on the menu. One of our friends suggested we…

On my last trip to Texas, I was passing through Fort Worth and called an old friend to meet me for lunch. When he asked what I wanted to eat, I said, “Chicken fried steak,” since, for all of its wonderful food, that is not a part of the Carolina culinary lexicon. As I was…

One of the things I have had to unlearn from my childhood is how people were described when telling a story of something that happened. What was modeled for me was white people were simply described as people: a man, a woman. People of any other ethnic or racial background were given a qualifier: “I…

The Christmas tide is going out . . . the waves of wonder which crashed against the sea wall of my heart are sliding away reminding me that the tides come and go, neap and spring: this is the rhythm of redemption.   Along the now silent sands in my mind’s eye I still see…

My offering tonight is a story I wrote several years ago. Three Christmases ago, my friend Terry helped me turn it into an audio file. This past year has helped me read it a bit differently. I share it again. A Faraway Christmas   As we gather together on this Silent Night, To sing ‘round…

a year ago, this room was filled with reclaimed lumber and pregnant dreams; now I sit in my spot, trying to give birth to new ideas as though I have always come here. the path from then to now is not mapped, but discovered — looking back into the woods of hope and friendship, of…

Several years ago, Thanksgiving became synonymous with pie at our house. The week before I go on a pie baking frenzy and the results are shared throughout the neighborhood, as well as around our table. Here are a few of the recipes that have become keepers over the years. I’ll start with my mother’s pie…