by Kara Johnson
Growing up in New Orleans mandates a love affair with bread pudding. I don't remember the first time I ate it, but my grandmother made one of the best I've ever tasted. If food is love, (and I know that some part of it is), we were most certainly cared for and treasured by my grandmother. Born Evelina, she shortened her name to Evelyn, and we called her Nina. After school, my cousins and I would all go to my great grandparents' home in the 7th Ward. The house was a double shotgun, renovated into a single, located caddy-corner to Valena C. Jones Elementary School. It was the gathering place for my family. Nina would have the most amazing dinners waiting for us, and...
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