·.·´¯'·.·Extract from John-Boy's journal From Waltons Mountain - At night across the mountain when darkness falls and the winds sweep down out of the hollows the wild things with their shiny eyes come to the edge of the clearing. At such an hour the house seems safe and warm an island of light and love in a sea of darkness. At such an hour the word home must have come into being dreamed up by some creature that never knew a home. In his yearning there must have come to mind the vision of a mother's face, a father's deep voice, the aroma of fresh baked bread, sunshine in a window, the muted sounds of rain on a roof, the sigh of death, the cry of a newborn babe, and voices calling goodnight . Home, an island, a refuge, a haven of love. ·.·´¯'·.··.·´¯'·.· For those of you old enough to remember the TV series, The Waltons, you'll recall that many scenes played out in the kitchen. The kitchen, in my humble opinion was then, is now and always shall be the center of a loving and warm home. This is the one room where family, friends and sometimes even strangers come together over the intimate act of breaking bread. This recipe is courtesy of my cousin Sharon. Thanks to her, Keith and I have been enjoying the ... ahem....medicinal properties of The Recipe for some years now. Thanks to Sharon, we've had some very healthy summers...winters...autumns...uh, ok it's good all year! Hopefully the recipe will take you back to quieter times in your mind's eye. Enjoy!