Our mothers were friends, and since I arrived two days after Marsha was born, we raised our glass Evenflo bottles with black plastic nipple rings high across our bassinets and clinked our Pet Evaporated Milk with corn syrup to a pledge of life-long friendship.

As we grew up, our families shared Sunday and holiday meals.

Forrest Hotel, Friday night burgers, eggnog on NYEve

We kept the traditions alive

When I lost my mom, I had only been married two years; my mind had not yet turned to the importance of l

Our kids kept asking for our recipes

So in 2012 Marsha and I sat down at her round oak kitchen table and pulled out all of our favorite family recipes. Some were in our mothers’ handwriting, and some in the writing of friends. Just looking at them carried us into conversations about what we were doing the first time we tasted that vidilia onion dip, or which Christmas or Easter we are at whose house for the meal in which that dish debuted.