I loved sitting in the kitchen on a stormy day. Nana would sit in her rocking chair and I would sit in the other chair and watch her crochet and listen to her stories from the old days. The big stove made it nice and toasty warm and the smells from her cooking were always wonderful. Nana cooked like she did in the old country; nothing written down, all from memory. She said she cooked since she was my age and didn’t need a cook book.
A photograph and story from the Hughes House.
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