By Pamela Price

With my maternal grandparents having passed away before I turned 4, my mother helped me forge a deeply rewarding relationship with an older couple, Bert and Frances Jamison, who were long-term friends of Mom's family. Although I called them "uncle" and "aunt", they functioned as surrogate grandparents. And they were wonderful human beings who helped instill in me a deep and abiding appreciation for farm life, determination, good food and a great story. Oh, and it's thanks to them that I keep an eager eye out for roadside fruit stands and mom-and-pop bakeries.

The Deutsch Apple (Blanco, Texas)

The Jamisons have been gone many years now... far too long for my liking, of course. It is a certain nostalgia for their presence that leads me to bite into satsuma oranges (he grew them) and crave pecan pies (she baked them) this time of year. Some time near Thanksgiving, a carefully packed wooden bushel basket would arrive filled to the brim with fruit, pies and jelly. Even though they shipped similar packages around the world for customers ranging from ordinary folks to U.S. senators, I always felt that Aunt Frances had filled that basket with a little extra love just for us.

Decades ago--using a fig preserve recipe passed to them from my own grandfather, the Jamison's started a small cannery in Pearland. Over the years, the business grew and grew. By the time that I came along, they were canning relish, pickles and other items. They also made old-fashioned fudge, divinity and pecan brittle. And they sold farm-fresh produce up on Broadway, back before it was lined with strip malls and McMansion-style subdivisions.

At the holidays, the Jamison's assorted homemade cakes and pies had cars lining their long, dusty driveway. , I vividly recall working the cash register, offering samples in the store or carrying customers' bags to their cars on many occasions at Jamison's Home Cannery. I remember driving my Baptist-reared aunt and my Methodist-raised mom to the liquor store when it was decided that a whiskey cake was the perfect addition to the line-up.

For a kid and teenager, it was great fun. And I can't tell you how many times in my life, when faced with the question of whether or not I've got enough gumption to try something new in my professional life, I've thought about Aunt Frances' enterprising, try-anything-once spirit and thought, "Yeah, I can do this."  (Incidentally, she purchased my fancy, rose-strewn wedding shoes when I was a bride--a lovely gesture that I think marked me for a happy wife. She, after all, had been so pleased with her marriage to Bert... well, I like to think such contentment was contagious.)

It was with the hope of offering my young child a first glimpse--albeit brief--of small-town entrepreneurism that I popped into Blanco's The Deutsch Apple Bakery earlier this month. I'd spotted it several times on the trip from San Antonio to Dripping Springs, each time eyeing the red-hued exterior with wonder about what lurked inside.

To my great delight, the interior was--for me, at least--a blast from the past. Row upon row of canned goods greet customers near the door, and a case of home-style pies, muffins, cookies and cakes beckon the curious. There's coffee, too. 

As we were in a rush during our visit, we opted for a spiced cookie. Once we sampled it, I knew we'd be back for more. Yet as luscious as the cookie was, I found myself weak-at-the-knees over the giant ovens. 

They looked just like the ones that Aunt Frances and Uncle Bert used.

Image credit: author's private collection.

Editorial coordinator Pamela Price blogs regularly at Red, White & Grew. You can follow her weekdays on Twitter.com (@CLifeMag), where she shares lifestyle tips.