The Story

Growing up, my folks were terrible cooks. My mom hated cooking and rarely put any effort into it. My dad’s claim to cooking fame was grossly overcooked (completely black and unrecognizable) Kielbasa and burnt scrambled eggs.

Luckily, I had a grandma that knew her stuff. She taught me how to make Italian sausage from scratch. Every family gathering, there would be a large pot of sausage swimming in homemade sauce, set out on her buffet for all to enjoy. I would help her clean the casings, grind the pork, mix in the spices, then stuff the casings. This would take all day, but it is one of my fondest memories from childhood. To this day, I carry on this tradition, and like in years past, everyone (primarily the men of the family) will circle around the crockpot and indulge in this savory treat. I am so pleased that our youngest son has taken on this tradition, while putting his own personal spin on it.

The first meal I made for my then future husband more than 35 years ago was what I thought was tuna casserole. It was completely inedible! I had added so much garlic that it was forever known as that garlic casserole. I embarked on a mission to teach myself how to cook.

We raised four boys with iron stomachs. For more than 3 decades, I put my family through trial and error. Breads that didn’t rise, bland pasta, & overcooked steaks were intermingled with the occasional successful baked scallops, roasted asparagus, or homemade ice cream.

We are blessed that our boys and their families all live in the beautiful state of Colorado and are all within a short distance of our home. When we get together, food is at the center of every event. We sometimes have themed potlucks, like “all things bacon” and sometimes we just bring together all our favorite dishes. No matter what we do, there is always a crockpot full of Italian sausage in homemade sauce.