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My favorite thing I ever got to eat out of my college cafeteria was cornbread. I couldn’t get enough of it. My second favorite, which was available with much greater regularity, were the omelets. They were cooked to order, right in front of you, and it was the perfect balm to soothe the sting of an 8am French class during my first year at UVA. Since that time I’ve fallen in love with many delicious egg dishes, including quiche (good quiche, not weird scary quiche) and frittatas. Earlier this year I added the Spanish tortilla to the list. While at the Atlanta Food and Wine Festival earlier this year, I attended a session called Pantry Punch and Emergency Bites. The

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 A few weeks ago I drove down to Miami for the 2014 BlogHer Food Conference. In case you were wondering, it’s a bit of a haul from Atlanta to Miami. This was my first time at any of the BlogHer conferences and I had a really good time. For those of your who might wonder what goes on at a food blogger conference, let me take a minute to briefly tell you about it. The conference brought together food bloggers from all over the country (and probably some from outside of the US as well) and featured speakers and breakout sessions on topics ranging from how to deal with the press, next moves in a food career and how to

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 My first memory of eating cheese grits is seated at my Great Aunt Frances’ breakfast table. The table was tucked in a little alcove of the kitchen and afforded a view of the long, narrow room, where Aunt Frances busied herself at the stove, preparing breakfast for four hungry, pajama-clad little girls. As I was living in Wisconsin at that point in my life, it was during these visits to Memphis when I was introduced to staples of Southern fare. Aunt Frances’ table introduced me to not only my first cheese grits, but my first biscuits with sausage gravy and watermelon sprinkled with salt, among many other things. My grandmother was not the best cook in the world and I

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 I went down to Savannah and St. Simon’s last weekend for my friends’ wedding. While there on St. Simon’s, I went to dinner with some friends at a place called Barbara Jeans. And when I say I met up with friends for dinner, I mean that I was super late and rushed into the place as they were all getting their food and I stole half of a crab cake. Yeah. As we were finishing up, Jennifer asked the server for a serving of “Chocolate Mess” to go. Intrigued, I inquired about this “chocolate mess” and Jennifer assured me that it was pretty much the best thing ever. And then, when the server set down two Styrofoam cups, one filled

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