See You Around the Campfire: The Story Behind Mrs. Apple's Fried Chicken

Every recipe has a story.

For me, this one starts in the kitchen I grew up in.

Mrs. Apple was like a grandmother to me. She had helped raise my dad, and she and her husband, Toby, were a big part of our family. She was always welcome in our home, and some of my favorite memories are from the days she would come over and cook supper with us.

The meal I remember most was her fried chicken.

I was too short to comfortably reach the counter, so I'd pull up a chair and help however I could. My job was simple, coat each piece of bone-in chicken in seasoned flour while Mrs. Apple got everything else ready.

On the stove sat my mom's yellow electric skillet, warming up with a scoop of lard. Once it was hot enough, Mrs. Apple would carefully lower each piece of chicken into the hot grease. Then came the hardest part for a kid.

Waiting.

Mrs. Apple never rushed anything. She knew good fried chicken couldn't be hurried. Before long, the kitchen filled with that unmistakable smell of chicken frying, and I'd find myself lifting the lid just enough to sneak a peek.

When supper was finally ready, the chicken was everything it should be, crispy on the outside, juicy on the inside, and made with love.

Looking back, I realize those afternoons were never just about learning to fry chicken.

They were about hospitality.

Mrs. Apple showed me that the best meals aren't about fancy ingredients or perfect recipes. They're about making time for people. She probably never imagined those evenings in our kitchen would shape the direction of my life, but they did.

Over the last thirty years, I've cooked in churches, restaurants, conference centers, camps, and at more weddings than I can count. I've served thousands of meals, but some of the most valuable lessons I ever learned came from standing on a chair in my own kitchen beside someone who loved my family enough to simply show up and cook.

I can still picture the flour scattered across the counter, hear the crackle of the chicken frying in my mom's yellow electric skillet, and remember how excited I was just to be included.

It's funny how certain recipes become more than recipes.

They become reminders of the people who poured into us.

During my years of Camp Ministry, I think about those memories often. Around a campfire, stories are shared, friendships are built, and lives are changed. Around our kitchen table, the same thing happened.

The location may be different, but the mission is the same.

Bring people together. Share a meal. Make room for someone else.

You never know what lesson they're taking home.

See you around the campfire.

Travis