Chocolate Pot de Crème with Hazelnut Shortbread and Blood Orange Compote
From Kathryn King, Aria
Chocolate Croissant Bread Pudding
From Second Helpings by Johnnie Gabriel, from Tom McEachern, Thomas Nelson
Coconut Layer Cake
When Angie Mosier was growing up in Atlanta, a trip Downtown meant a visit to the Rich’s bakeshop and a purchase of their famous coconut cake. Angie loved the pomp of the bakeshop.
Summer Pudding
From "Screen Doors and Sweet Tea" by Martha Hall Foose. In the summer of 1953, my then elementary-school-age mother, Cindy Vaughan, and great aunt, Carrye Vaughan Heard, attended the dedication of a memorial to Casey Jones.
The Chef’s Favorite Lemon Tart
The chef's favorite lemon tart is a somewhat sophisticated take on Southern-style lemon chess pie. This simple tart really is one of Ben's favorite desserts and has been a standard in Karen's repertoire for close to twenty years.
Apple Stack Cake
This is probably the most “mountain” of cakes. The story goes that James Harrod, one of Kentucky’s early pioneers and the founder of Harrodsburg, brought the stack cake recipe when he came to the frontier state via the Wilderness Road through the Cumberland Gap.
Against the Odds: Yolanda Mitchell
Breast cancer was just Yolanda Mitchell’s first bad news. A decade ago at age thirty, the part-time model and boutique owner endured a mastectomy and monstrous doses of chemotherapy and radiation.“It’s been all downhill from there,” says the surprisingly cheerful Mitchell, as she ticks off a laundry list of the procedures and diagnoses she began to face.
Against the Odds: Scott Dolezal
Michael Moore was the first person to save seventeen-year-old Scott Dolezal’s life last year. The Westminster Schools maintenance staffer just happened to come into work that Saturday, August 1. He just happened to drive his utility tractor the long way around campus to avoid disturbing parents who were watching preseason cross-country trials. And he just happened to glance back over his shoulder after he passed a runner along the wooded trail—at the very moment the runner toppled silently into a deep ravine, where he hung hidden and motionless, feet tangled in brush, suspended headfirst over a creek.
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