Years ago my Grampy came back from Jamaica with vanilla beans. Lots of them. He shoved them all in a small bottle of rum and put that bottle up in a kitchen cabinet. And there it sat. Being a young girl, I promptly forgot about it.
He brought it back out months later and invited me to take a smell what was in the bottle. Lo and behold, the scent of vanilla wafted out of that rum bottle! Grampy had made vanilla, which I’m sure Grammy baked with for some time afterwards.
Whenever I make vanilla- and it isn’t often, I think of my Grampy- a man who may have been the most influential man of my formative years. Today isn’t the time to post about him. Surely when I do there will be tears, as he was a great man and his passing broke a little something in my heart. But today I made vanilla, and thought of him, and the twinkle in his eyes when he smiled.
sharing some Friday inspiration~
~these two really have it going on
~simple holiday decor, scandinavian style
~it’s a makers holiday season
~all sorts of delicious