Paula Deen - The Lady & Sons, Too!: A Whole New Batch of Recipes from Savannah

When I look back over my life, I get filled with so much emotion. My early childhood and teen years were so wonderful and safe. My brother, Bubba, and I were protected, guided, and watched over by wonderful parents. You get so secure that you begin to think life is made up of only peaks and almost no valleys. I was nineteen, and Bubba was twelve, when our father, who was our hero, died unexpectedly at the age of forty. This was the beginning of my broken spirit. When our beautiful, sweet, and loving mother died four years later at the age of forty-four, I felt impending doom hanging over me. I thought this valley would last for years.

Being married with two babies under the age of three and a sixteen-year-old brother to finish raising was a big task for a twenty-three-year-old girl. I certainly couldnt classify myself as a woman because I think my mental growth froze at the age of nineteen from the pure shock of the situation. While trying very hard to put up a competent front, I became a scared, nervous shell of my usual self. I lived in dreadful fear of the death of someone I loved, or my own death.

In 1978, due to tremendous financial problems, my husband and I lost our business and also our home. It was at this point, after getting situated into an apartment, that I began to feel safe only within the four walls of my own home. Before long, I had stopped doing anything that required me to leave the apartment. The very thought of having to leave my safety zone sent me into a horrendous panic attack. During these attacks my arms would go numb and my heart would almost pound out of my chest, leaving me weak.

Surely this had to be the death that I had been waiting for. The fear of the fear eventually made me a virtual prisoner. Life continued much the same way for the next nine or ten years. Then, like a miracle, at the age of forty, I got up one day and felt as if a light had been turned on. Yes, one day I would die and I might possibly lose others that I loved, but that was all out of my control. God had given me today, and today I would start the journey of mending. We all know that a certain amount of fear is natural, that healthy fear keeps us safe, but I never again would let myself be a victim of controlling fear.

Sometimes I feel as though I have two birthdays: one January 19, 1947, and the other June 19, 1989. The second date marks the day that I became completely responsible for myself and my actions; it was the day that I, with the help of my sons, Jamie and Bobby, began our business. All those years of being a prisoner in my home were about to pay off, for I had become a pretty good cook. After all, cooking had been my number-one source of entertainment.

The business was started with just two hundred dollars, and today I can still tell you, almost to the penny, how I spent it all. The first year and a half was spent working out of our home, and this proved to be quite a hardship for the family. A divorce after twenty-seven years of marriage was imminent, and we were about to tackle a full-fledged restaurant as well. The next five years would be the hardest, physically, that I had ever experienced. I had taken an available space located in the Best Western Central Motel, and the restaurant required three meals a day, seven days a week.

There was no money to pay employees, so I, along with Jamie, Bobby, and their girlfriends, began the task of providing good, affordable food for our guests. Soon (although it seemed like forever) I was able to employ some very talented women. They were wonderful cooks, and all I needed to do was show them how I wanted things prepared. Almost immediately they were off and running and before long they were teaching me things as well!

Jamie and Bobby were waiters and enjoyed a nice boost to their income through their tips, but the size of the restaurant would not allow me to generate the income I had hoped for. I dreamed of something bigger, a place where my style of food went hand-in-hand with its surroundings. We had met and made friends with many wonderful people on the south side of Savannah, but I knew that we belonged downtown.

It was time to take the next step. I had not a clue just how hard that next step would prove to be. Being nave, I signed a long-term lease on a wonderful old building in the heart of historic Savannah. It would require total renovationall at my expense! Its amazing, but when I signed that lease it never dawned on me that I might not be able to get the financing; after all, I had saved and scraped up $20,000, and surely that was good for something. Our nonrenewable lease with the Best Western expired and all we had now was the catering part of the business to keep things going. Bank after bank refused my applications, despite my tears and pleas, until the day I met Doug McCoy, vice president of one of the local banks. Doug listened to my plan and gave me great encouragement. He suggested that with a loan from his bank and the help of SBA and SBAC, we could probably put together a package. The encouragement was short-lived though, because although I had $20,000 in savings, I was still short $25,000. One thing was definite: This was another valley. I had no idea where to turn, but then my mentors and most enthusiastic cheerleaders stepped up and helped clear the way for me and my sons. My aunt Peggy and uncle George Ort did something for which we will be forever grateful. They lent us the remaining money, making it possible for us to open a wonderful restaurant and meet the worldand what a world it was! Our trials were certainly not over, but there was light at the end of the tunnel. On the morning of opening day I received a call from our accountant, Karl Schumacher, who said, Paula, were in pretty bad trouble here. Both the construction and restaurant accounts are overdrawn, and we need to take care of this. Well, I hadnt had any money to put in the parking meters that day, much less to cover the overdrafts. In fact, I didnt have a penny to make change with. We were supposed to open our brand-new business in less than an hourhow could I cash a check on an overdrawn account? I made a humbling phone call to my banker and explained the situation and asked him to please allow me to cash just one more check. With a smile in his voice he said, Yes, Paula, come on down and get your start-up change. Were not going this far with you to stop you now. Good luck! Im extremely proud to say that that was the last time we were overdrawn.