Perrette Pauley - Donna Bells Bake Shop : recipes and stories of family, friends, and food

Donna Bell.

This book is the story of three friends, our journeys, and how we created a special place in honor of my mother, Donna Bell.

My mother was a lovely Southern gal with sparkling blue eyes, the sweetest smile, and a true love of Southern baking and cooking. Donna Bell was born and raised in Alabama. She first saw my dad when he drove the truck for her Tri-Hi-Y hay ride. She was twelve years old and he was seventeen. He then saw her dressed as an angel in the church Easter parade. A few years later, they met at a teenage hangout, the Sugar and Spice. He wrote her number on his friends dusty dashboard so he could call her. It all sounds like a Southern fairy tale, but its true. When he called her, he said, You want to go see a flick? At first, my mom didnt know who it was, and since they were from different sides of the Alabama tracks, she didnt know exactly what he was asking her. But she soon figured it out. It was that crazy redhead, Paul, that shed met at the Sugar and Spice. She went to see that flick with him.

They were soon married and were together until my mom passed away from breast cancer in 2002. My sister and I are so lucky that my mom decided to go see that flick with that crazy redhead from the wrong side of the Alabama tracks.

Ever since my mother passed, my friends and family and I have been dedicated to keeping her memory alive. At the bake shop, we do this by offering customers delicious treats, and also by conveying the warmth in which she lived her life. My mom was the kindest, most sensitive person I have ever known. Her concern for the well-being of all people and animals is a big part of me. And her love of baking and cooking shaped my childhood. Although we constantly moved, I have fond memories of each kitchen of my childhood. I remember my sister Andis beautiful, long hair getting caught up in the cake beaters while we were making a cake for someones birthday. I remember the wafting scent from the Crock-Pot, always filled with delicious chicken and noodles. I remember the smell of unleavened bread every Saturday as my mother baked the Communion for Sunday church. I always remember the kitchens.

Our bakery in the heart of Manhattan is our newest kitchen, Donna Bells Bake Shop. It brings old charm to the big city. Wed love for you to drop in and see us sometime, but for now this book can be your way of doing that. We hope you enjoy reading the history of the bakery and have fun trying out all the recipes!

PAULEY PERRETTE

Los Angeles, 2015

Pauleys parents, Donna Bell and Paul, on their wedding day.

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Growing Up

I was born in Louisiana, twenty months after my big sister, Andi. My parents, Donna and Paul, had known each other since they were teenagers in Alabama. After serving in the Air Force for years my dad was working his way up in the phone company, so our family moved often because of his job. We lived in almost every Southern state. During the rather chaotic nature of this perpetual displacement, we spent all of our vacations and holidays at a tiny lake house in the middle of the woods in Alabama. My folks had named it Paupers Paradise. That little place became the one constant in our lives.

Pauleys school photo.

When we spent time at this house, all the cousins would swim in the lake, fish off the pier, climb trees, and make rope swings. And there would always be food. We would wake up to eggs, grits, biscuits, and gravy. There was something cooking all day long and then dinner would often consist of whatever fish was caught that day. My maternal grandmother, Granny Bell, had moved one cabin down so there were two kitchens going. The scents of a Southern kitchen are in every fiber of my memory. To this day, wherever I am, if I smell a ham cooking, it puts me right back in my Granny Bells house. My sister Andi recalled these times: From Sunday lunches, potlucks, cookouts, and holiday feasts, everyone played a part and usually had their own specialty claimed as their own. Everyone willing had a job suited to their age or ability. Children stirred the sugar into the tea and happily volunteered to be taste testers. Unsure adolescents were given well-worn, proven dishes until their confidence grew to where their suggestions for a change could be courageously voiced to the group. All steps led to that bittersweet coronation moment of preparing your first Thanksgiving turkey, with the realization that a generational scepter had been both earned and passed and your role had forever changed.