My family comes from NW Montana, near the Canadian border, and a part of Montana that really ought to have been Idaho. In our family, we loved potatoes of any kind - but most especially mashed. A meal wasn't hardly a meal if it didn't include potatoes. A meal was all about "meat and potatoes." My grandfather, born in Sweden and an indifferent Lutheran from birth, always offered the same irreverant grace before meals: "Here's the spuds and here's the meat, so why in the heck don't we eat?" At family get-togethers, there was pan-fried chicken, northern cornbread (sweet and cake-like), corn-on-the-cob, buttermilk mashed potatoes, peas or carrots, and for dessert some kind of pie or cake. If you were really lucky, someone would bring a rare and expensive treat - a pie made from huckleberries. I went huckleberry picking once. You climb mountainsides that are so steep you have to hang on to the bush with one hand to keep from falling down the hill while you pick with the other hand. And you keep your eyes peeled and make lots of noise because the bears like those huckleberries an awful lot too. Huckleberries are bigger and more purple than blueberries, and more tart. They only grow at certain elevations, and in certain conditions. They have yet to be commercially cultivated, as far as I know. Your turn! What recipes say "home" to you, and what foods? And where is "home" for you?