Gumbo, Cast Iron Cornbread, and the Best Kind of Christmas Gift

For Christmas last year I asked my wife for an experience instead of a thing.

She turned it into a choose-your-own-adventure. I could pick almost anything — a class, a trip, an outing, something I’d been curious about but hadn’t made time for. The only rule was that it had to be something I’d actually do, not something I’d intend to do and reschedule into oblivion.

I chose a cooking class. Specifically: New Orleans. Cajun. Creole.

The class ran three hours, and it was excellent — hands-on from the start, no standing around watching someone else cook. We moved through several dishes, learning technique and building flavor as we went. The instructor knew the cuisine deeply, not just the recipes.

A couple weeks later I locked in two of the recipes at home: a proper gumbo (chicken, andouille, shrimp — the roux done right, low and slow until it’s the color of dark chocolate) and honey butter cornbread baked in a cast iron skillet. Both turned out well. The gumbo especially — there’s something satisfying about a dish that rewards patience and can’t really be rushed.

I’ve got a few more dishes from that night I haven’t tackled yet. I’m looking forward to them.

We capped the weekend with a family walk at a local park — one of those early spring days where the trees are still bare but you can see the Smokies clearly from the ridge, and the lake catches the light just right. A good reminder that this area has a lot going for it.

This young-at-heart GenX hubby and dad had a pretty good weekend.

If you’re in a gift-giving rut with someone who doesn’t need more stuff: ask them what they’ve been meaning to try. Then make it easy for them to actually do it. That’s the whole trick.

Originally shared on LinkedIn.

I Made a Nail

Last night after work, I headed down to our local Maker Space here in Knoxville and learned some very basic blacksmithing skills in a pretty nifty little smithy that’s a short walk from the rest of the Knox Makers facilities.

I made a nail from mild steel.

One single solitary nail. And it took me a while. There was plenty of sweat — but no blood or tears.

Part of the joy was in slowing down. Being right there in the moment, focused on one thing. The forge, the hammer, the steel, the anvil.

 

The feedback is immediate and physical in a way almost nothing in my professional life is. You hit it wrong, you can see it. You hit it right, you can feel it.

It also gave me real appreciation for the hundreds of years of practice, innovation, and accumulated skill that humans have poured into that trade — and for the effort modern-day folks put into keeping it alive. The people at Knox Makers who run those sessions know their craft. They teach it generously.

And honestly? It made me deeply appreciate our local hardware stores. I’ll never look at a box of nails the same way.

Knox Makers, if you’re not familiar, is a welcoming, weird, wild bunch of subject matter experts in just about any domain you could name — kind, helpful, and cool without any hidden agendas. I’m lucky to have them nearby, and lucky to be a member.

Get out from behind your desk and go learn how to make something new — or old. Work to live.

Originally shared on LinkedIn.