Mikey famously said, “Try it. You’ll like it.” That sentiment certainly applies to the latest local specialty food products created and distributed by Bays to Bayous in Fairhope, Alabama. The inspiration for the products originates from Mobile family matriarch Ann Bridgeman, an epicurean legend around these parts. The products include West Indies Salad ready-mix marinade, Spicy Bloody Mary mix, Creole Lemon dressing, Lemon-stuffed olives, and Spicy Pickled asparagus. 

My neighbor, Connie Cazort, is loved by everyone for her infectious energy, spontaneity, and zest for life. She is especially adored by children who gather at her feet to hear her tell stories. Connie is a professional storyteller who tells, not reads, a story. With folk tales, fairy tales, classics, and stories she created herself, she captures her audience's imagination with theatrical voices, gestures, and expressive pauses. She growls, grimaces, chuckles, and gasps. Her body and soul participate in the story, creating a magical connection with her audience. “Storytelling tunes children’s ears to the music of our language,” she explains with passion. 

Debbie "Marvelous" Smith calls her catering business Sequins & Seasonings. The first part of it becomes obvious when you see that presentation is very important to her, including her eye-catching fashion sense. The second part of her company name reveals itself deliciously in the first bite of her soulful flavors.

The University of South Alabama campus in Mobile is close to my childhood home. I remember when the campus construction was first announced, in 1963. I was a young boy, and the implications didn’t really register at the time, but I did watch it grow in both size and stature over the years. My respect for South Alabama grew substantially when, early on, a close family friend, Dr. Neal Rowell, was hired as a professor in the physics department.

Growing up, my family spent summers in Point Clear. When I was nine years old, my parents purchased a home just north of Bailey’s Creek. Out front, there stood a cast iron bell with a long lanyard that reached back to the screen porch. It was rumored that it would ring at the first signs of a jubilee, alerting neighbors to come take part in the seafood harvest. Truth be told, our bell never rang for a jubilee. Instead, my mom would ring it to let us know it was time to get out of the water and come to supper. It worked every time.