Not your Granny’s Xmas


Childhood memories often lure me into a disappearing world of culinary and sensory delights. Those were the days of anticipation which made you drool when you heard the rotary mixer hit the side of the glass bowl, the popping of grease from frying chicken, or the smell of a fresh-baked pie.  

These days I just buy a candle called apple pie spice and plop a bucket of KFC on the table beside bottles of designer water.  Those culinary and olfactory pleasantries of yesteryear are likely to cause a panic attack among the self declared food police

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