Three Bags of Cashews and a Dishonest Sister In Law at the Wedding

I slid my finger under the corner of the middle drawer, searching for the small brass ring of my measuring spoons, but my knuckles brushed against a scrap of thick, stiff paper instead. It was the original yellowed recipe card for the Clodhopper candy, written in my mother’s neat, slanted script. I left it there and pulled out the metal spatula, turning continue reading …