Grandmother wasted nothing. Grandfather said, “It was the Scotch in her.” My childhood home was six doors from my grandmother’s house. I never had a meal at her home that didn't leave me licking my lips. I remember sitting in her kitchen watching her take the celery leaves from the top of the stalks and chopping the leaves to add to this meatball recipe. The resulting meal is what became known in my own adult house as Granny Burgers.
Picture this: you’re perched atop a granite slab five miles from the nearest paved road and there isn’t another soul in sight besides one of your closest compadres sitting a few rocks over from you, glassing the same drainage you are. You guys aren’t talking a lot besides the occasional mumble about the landscape and wildlife in front of you.