@lizze
I am blessed with a father who was born into a large Polish farm family, nearly everything they ate was homegrown or raised. Although the lure of town life pulled my father from the hinterlands he never gave up putting in a large garden each year, a tradition that he continues to this day (at 70+ years old). His suburban garden is organic and shockingly bountiful turning good neighbors into thieves. Many of our summer afternoons are spent withh a glass of wine in hand, walking up and down the rows happily munching, admiring and deciding upon what will grace the dinner table that night. Along with potatoes in purples, golds and reds, the sweetest snap peas, and tomatoes of nearly every size and color, my father grows many varieties of hot peppers which he dries, crushes and combines into a blend worthy of the shelves at Penzey's - it's truly amazing and has sealed my love of hot spices. My mother's Scot-Irish family left Chicago's Italian neighborhood as the depression loomed, opting for the kindler gentler midwest rural experience. It was in the country and the lack of proximity to grocery stores nor money to shop at them, that developed a household of creative female cooks. They were inclined toward southern ingredients and foods that would stretch a dollar; beans, potatoes, pork, greens, cornbreads, biscuits, soups & stews. The family matriarchs were also imprinted with influences from Chicago's Italian culture; great red sauces, southern Italian fare and no fear of seasonings. I have extracted a good deal of basic culinary appreciation from both parents. I forgive them the 60's decade when convenience foods dominated common sense, exposing us to canned meat products, processed cheese that could sit indefinitely on a grocery shelf and survive, fluffy white sandwich bread and foil packaged foodstuffs which accompanied the astronauts into space. All in all I'm happiest in the kitchen with fresh ingredients, willing tasters and new recipes to try.