Hi, my name is Carmen Graham, but I go by Carmen Lynnette.
I've lived in Houston, Texas most of my life, but I was born in a small, quiet country town called Woodville, Texas. You know those towns you have to slow all the way down for when you're driving through on a long road trip, just to make sure you don't get a ticket, then you speed right back up once you're out? Yes… one of those.
Just outside of Woodville is an even smaller place called Doucette. Back roads, open pastures, and land that seemed to stretch forever. That's where my roots are, and where I spent so many of my childhood summers.
Both sides of my family lived there, less than a mile apart. Big families on both sides, with ten or more siblings each, which meant plenty of aunts, uncles, and cousins. There was always something going on, always someone around.
On my dad's side, at my grandmother Etta Mae's house (we called her Mo Mo), they had a farm. I remember collecting fresh eggs from the chicken coop, picking mustard greens, shelling purple hull peas one by one, hauling big watermelons up the hill, and picking blackberries straight from the bush (thorns and all). It was work, but it was the kind of work that made you feel connected to the land.
On my mom's side, at my Granny Maxine's house, things were slower and quieter. There wasn't much to do, which meant we had to make our own fun. My cousins and I would run in and out of the screen door until Granny got tired of it and sent us outside for good. We'd play jacks on the front porch, freeze Kool-Aid cups to cool off from the heat, walk to the corner store for pickles and lemon heads, or take off down the dirt road trying to outrun the neighbor's mean dog. Simple days, but the best kind.
But what I remember most, on both sides, was the food.
My grandmothers could cook. And not just cook… they put their whole heart into feeding their families. Big meals, made from scratch, always enough for everyone and then some. And if you have a sweet tooth like I do, you know the desserts were the highlight. Cobblers, puddings, pies, cakes, cookies. I loved it all.
Granny Maxine would even call me when I was back in Houston just to say she had a pie waiting for me. And Etta Mae made the softest, buttery biscuits from scratch, served with homemade marmalade. Those are the kinds of flavors that stay with you.
And right there in the middle of it all was my mom, watching, learning, and later passing those same recipes and traditions down to me. She made sure those flavors didn't stop with one generation. Because of her, what started in those kitchens didn't stay there. It continued.
But the one thing I could never get out of my mind… were the old-fashioned tea cakes.
Despite the name, they're actually cookies. Both of my grandmothers made them in their own way, and they didn't make them often, which made them even more special. They were soft in the center, lightly crisp on the edges, simple, but unforgettable.
Those tea cakes stayed with me.
About 16 years ago, I started baking my own for my family. I kept it as a tradition, only making them for Thanksgiving and Christmas, so everyone would have something to look forward to. And they did.
But recently, I felt something pulling at me… a quiet nudge telling me it was time to share them beyond just my family. That maybe more people needed to experience something this simple, this nostalgic, this comforting.
And that's how Doucette Tea Cakes was born.
Inspired by those long, hot summers in the country, and created in memory of my grandmothers, Etta Mae and Maxine, two women who taught me what it means to cook with love, and carried forward through my mother, who made sure those traditions lived on.
They've both since passed on and are now resting with our Heavenly Father, but I truly believe they're still watching over me. Their love, their prayers, and their legacy live on in everything I bake.
And today, I'm honored to continue what they started. Sharing a little piece of Doucette, one tea cake at a time.
— Carmen Lynnette