About 13 years ago, I met a woman who facilitated the building of labyrinths at a spirituality conference. As soon as I got home, I told Steve I wanted one. And of course, he knew just the place.

At the time, we were living in a seven-room bed and breakfast that is now the Inn at Serenbe. Steve cleared a patch of land nearby and I put together a letter inviting more than 40 family members and friends from all over the world to help us create the labyrinth. My only request: They had to bring a rock and a story to go with it.

When I think back about it, it seems like an unusual request. But lo and behold, everyone brought something special. I was shocked at the time and effort some people put into it:

Steve’s cousin from Colorado went to the family church that Steve’s Swedish ancestors built, crawled over fences and got rocks from the foundation.

My best friend Connie’s husband brought a rock his son gave him years before. He traveled often and his son gave him that rock to remind him of home.

John Ferrell, the man to whom I sold Mary Mac’s, brought a rock that had been part of his home in North Carolina.

Everyone arrived on a Thursday. We welcomed everyone over dinner and set the intention to create the labyrinth together. Afterwards I gave everyone candles—one of my favorite parts of my Catholic upbringing—and we walked across the bridge Steve had built to a clearing with piles of rocks all around.

When we all came to the center, the women who facilitated led us in a blessing of the land and for the work we were about to do. The center of a labyrinth is the most sacred space—when you’re there, it’s said that you’re in conversation with the divine energy. I told everyone they were welcome to leave their candles or take them back to their rooms.

The next morning, we broke up into five groups to make the four quadrants and rosette in the middle, much like the one at Chartres Cathedral in France. By lunchtime we’d laid out most of the rocks and spent the next few days finessing—changing a rock here and there and sharing the stories behind our rocks.

We set up an encampment by the trees near the lake—a cloth for shade and table with refreshments. When we started to share stories on Friday afternoon, a swarm of bees appeared and we had to get up and move. They kept following us until we went to the center of the rosette, then they left us alone.

That’s where we shared our stories. And there were a lot of them, but it was important to listen as everyone shared their spirit. Once they shared, they could place their rock wherever they wanted.

After lunch on Saturday, Connie and my sister Barbara asked to see more of the land where we planned to build the Serenbe community. Steve and our land planner, Phil Tabb, took them on a hike. When they came back, Barbara said, “Can I see the map?” She pointed to a lot and said, “I want this one.” And that started the sale of houses at Serenbe.

The candles that we’d left at the labyrinth that first night were still burning. They weren’t seven-day candles, but every time we’d go up, they’d be flickering with flame. Before everyone left on Sunday, we gathered at the labyrinth again, sang and I asked several of the women to read either a book of poetry or the Bible—whatever page wanted to be read. Again we blessed the space, returned to the house to have lunch—because meals are important to Nygrens—and everyone went on their way.

I went back up by myself that night and was amazed to see the candles still burning. Also that night, the cows decided to break out of the pasture and congregate in the center of the labyrinth. And not one of the candles went out.

The next night I went up and the last candle had extinguished on its own. The cows got out not once but twice and went to the labyrinth, leaving every rock in place. I guess they wanted to bless it in their own private ceremony.

I still think of it as one of Serenbe’s most magical weekends.

People still bring rocks to our labyrinth. A minister at a local church brought some from the Berlin wall. I bring rocks back from trips and take them up there. And Serenbe Playhouse just did their first spring play in the center of it. It was Man of La Mancha and the tagline was, “sometimes to find your heart, you have to lose your mind.”

Years ago, when Serenbe was much smaller, I had a conversation about black-tie events with a resident and a young woman who rented a place here. The woman said she’d never been to one and the idea of a community-wide black-tie progressive dinner was born.

We did those until five years ago, when Serenbe Playhouse started hosting an annual gala fundraiser. One of the big auction items every year was an in-home catered dinner for 30 with entertainment from the Playhouse actors. Then one day it dawned on me that all the businesses at Serenbe except one is run by a woman and a Women of Serenbe package would be a highly sought after experience that would bring in lots of money for our beloved Playhouse. And has it ever.

The first Women of Serenbe experience was a low-key event with a native American theme. Serenbe resident and notable stylist Jill Sharp did the décor, The Hil chef Hilary White and I did the food—no forks, hands only—and Garnie did the drinks. We had a drummer and the whole bit.

Last year, we took the Bacchanalian feast theme and ran with it. We added set designer and Serenbe resident Kristin Genet to the mix plus Serenbe Farms farm manager Ashley Rodgers and Serenbe resident and Many Fold Farms proprietor Rebecca Williams, who provided the venue.

To say it was over the top doesn’t do it justice. Kristin helped each of us create our own headdress—mine was more than two feet tall—and she handmade amazing invitations that she hand delivered. She got cow bones from a nearby farmer and used them in the most incredible set design, along with branches, feathers and other found objects.

The package was bought by Tom Reed, the mayor of Chattahoochee Hills, and his wife, Karen. They invited 40 of their friends, all of whom were led in by the light of tiki torches. We had stations where people could adorn themselves with temporary gold and silver tattoos, try on necklaces made out of bones and fit themselves for headdresses made out of hydrangeas.

Guests sampled oysters, cheeses and charcuterie then moved into the barn, where they sat at a long farm table lit with twinkling lights and dined on roasted baby pig—head on, apple in the mouth—and vegetables from Serenbe Farms.

• 1/2 cup heavy cream
• 2 tablespoons honey
• 1 12-ounce package Ghirardelli semi sweet chocolate chips
• 1 tablespoon brandy
• 1/8 teaspoon cayenne
• Pinch kosher salt

Bring cream and honey to simmer in heavy saucepan. Add chocolate and stir until melted. Remove from heat. Stir in brandy, cayenne and salt.

Taste and adjust seasonings if desired.

Pour into a bowl or a fondue pot. Surround with sliced fruit, cubes of angel food cake and/ or Biscoff cookies.

Gerry Klaskala and I locked down the dates of his first visit to the Southern Chefs Series last fall. As his March date approached, the chef/owner of Aria, Canoe and the consulting chef for Atlas at the St. Regis peppered me with questions, excited to nail down the details and get prepped for his class.

A few days before, Gerry called to say that one of his most loyal diners at Aria—a woman who was almost 90 years old—had died and her funeral was scheduled for Monday, the second part of his class. He apologized profusely, said he would still do the Sunday night dinner, but his chef de cuisine, Brandon, would take over the next day. “But if you tell me I absolutely need to be there,” he said. “I’ll be there.”

That’s Gerry in a nutshell, and it says a lot about who he is as a chef, a restaurateur and a person. He’s not into the Next Hot Thing; he’s into the Next Right Thing. In the fickle world of food, he’s loyal to those who’ve been loyal to him.

He was incredibly gracious with the guests, who immediately picked up on his enthusiasm and desire to be part of the circle, instead of center stage. He brought beautiful oysters and served them with cucumber champagne mignonette as a snack and plied the guests with homemade limoncello and one of his favorite brandies.

Together they made grilled lamb and asparagus with roasted fingerlings and carrots and Florida strawberries with mint and lemon curd in a crisped puff pastry, but my favorite was the creamless celery root soup—one of his signature dishes at Aria. Simple and exquisite, it was a delicious demonstration of how quality ingredients aren’t a luxury, they’re a necessity.

Creamless Celery Root Soup with Black Truffles and Parmigiano-Reggiano

• 3 ounces butter, unsalted
• 2 each large celery root, peeled and diced
• 1 leek, white part only, diced and washed
• 1 quart light chicken stock
• ¼ cup Parmigiano-Reggiano, freshly grated
• 1 ounce black truffles, microplane grated
• Kosher salt

Place a heavy bottom soup pot over low heat and add 2 ounces of the butter. When the butter begins to foam, add celery root and a little salt. Cook slowly for 4 minutes, add leeks and continue to cook slowly for another 4 minutes, stirring frequently. Do not allow the celery root or the leeks to brown.

Add chicken stock and bring to a simmer. Cover and cook slowly for 40 minutes.

Carefully puree the soup in a blender until very smooth. Add the remaining 1 ounce of cold butter, all the parmesan and continue to puree until very smooth. Season to taste.

Return soup to a clean pot and heat. Add truffles and serve into warmed soup bowls.

Next up: Nathalie Dupree returns to the Southern Chefs Series May 17-18. To register, call the Inn at Serenbe at 770.463.2610.

Since the first wedding 16 years ago, Serenbe has been the venue for approximately 400 blessed events. Around these parts—and especially around this time of year—we affectionately call it Weddingville.

But long before there was an Inn, a pavilion or nature trails that make beautiful backdrops for bridal photos, there was a little girl named Kara who dreamed of getting married in her own backyard. And this September, friends and family will eat, drink and dance at my middle daughter’s reception, less than 1,000 feet from her childhood bedroom window.

People have asked if I’m helping Kara plan, but to me, helping her means making sure she gets what she wants, not what I want.

Years ago, long before the Serenbe community came to be, we added on to the main house so each of our daughters could have her own bedroom. We made sure they were all the same footprint and each girl got to meet with designer Stan Topol to discuss the look they wanted.

That’s how Steve and I raised them: This is your life, how do you want it to look? And when Kara calls asking for advice or feedback, I tell her the same thing: This is your wedding. How do you want it to look?

I had my wedding, or should I say circus? Steve and I had 1,200 people. We invited 1,400! Kara doesn’t want that many—and if I had to do it over again I wouldn’t either—but what she liked about our wedding is that we spread it out over a few days, so she’s planning to do something similar.

Having lots of flower children is important to her—she plans to have more than 20—but one of the biggest parts of Kara’s vision is having a long aisle. That’s not an option in the usual places we offer to brides, so she came to us and asked, “Is there any place no one’s ever used before that can just be mine?”

Steve didn’t say anything, but he immediately knew the place. That man knows every inch of this property—it’s his playground. So we all got in the car and when he showed it to us, we were all like, of course. It’s perfect.

And so it begins. Stay tuned for more updates of the first Nygren wedding in Weddingville.

Back in September at the Southern Chef’s Potluck—a benefit for Wholesome Wave—Serenbe resident Grace Aldridge bid on a fish fry and oyster roast for 30 people with chef Ford Fry in my backyard. 

Steve and I were in Morocco at the time, but from what I hear, three other chefs from Fry’s restaurant group had a few cocktails, started feeling especially participatory and offered to join in.

Grace won the auction item, which she bought to celebrate her 10-year anniversary with her husband, Doug. They got married at Serenbe, so it was fitting that she invited family and friends to another celebration here a decade later. Many of them hadn’t been back since the wedding and got to see how much we’ve grown.

It rained for days leading up to the event a few weeks ago, but as soon as I started putting together a back-up plan, the forecast said we’d get a break. The sun came out just as my garage turned into cooking central full of deep fat fryers, where Ford and three other chefs made Nashville hot chicken, roasted oysters and a beautiful low country boil for good people and a great cause.

The 6^th annual Southern Chefs Potluck will be held September 13 from 3-6 p.m. at the Inn at Serenbe. Tickets will be on sale in the near future at Wholesome Wave.

If you love cookbooks as much as me, you probably have one you’ve held onto for years but have only used to make one recipe. That’s how I feel about The Complete Vegetarian Cuisine by Rose Eliot, a cookbook I’ve had for more than two decades. I look at it and think, why do I keep this if I only use it for one recipe? And, since I love that recipe so much, why don’t I try more of them?

And then I make the spinach gnocchi, put the book back on the shelf and go through the same thing again the next time.

I tried the spinach gnocchi years ago and it was such a hit it became something of a special occasion dinner when the girls were young. Kara, my middle daughter, loves all things Italian and asked me to make it a few months back. It was a busy time—oh hell, they’re all busy times around here—and for some reason, I’d built it up in my mind that they took a long time to make. So I told her I couldn’t pull those off and made something else.

Kara moved to Seattle because her fiancé lives there and came home recently to be in yet another wedding. She’s the first of our daughters to be engaged, but the last of her friends to be married and has been to so many weddings over the past year and a half.

It’s been a long time since it’s been just the five of us for dinner, so I asked Kara if she had any special requests. She said, “Oh, just lasagna or something like that,” but I was feeling energetic and decided to take on the gnocchi as a surprise.

As a bonus, I invited one of my favorite neighborhood munchkins, 10-year-old Kate, over to help roll and pinch. Kate is a lovely, exuberant 30 year old in a 10 year old’s body. She reminds me so much of Garnie at that age.

It was so simple that I wondered why I ever thought it was difficult. These are northern Italian dumplings—they don’t include potatoes and don’t have that light, pillowy taste. But they are still so delicious … especially when covered in browned butter and Parmesan.

Spinach Gnocchi

Serves 4

• 1 ½ pounds fresh spinach cooked, drained and chopped, or 1 pound frozen chopped spinach, thawed
• ½ pound mozzarella, grated, or other skim-milk soft white cheese
• 1 ½ cups flour
• 1 cup grated Parmesan cheese
• 2 eggs beaten
• Salt and freshly ground black pepper
• Freshly grated nutmeg
• Extra flour for coating
• A little butter
• Grated Parmesan cheese, to serve

1. Drain the spinach, then puree it in a blender or food processor. Put the puree into a saucepan and dry it over the heat for a minute. Remove from the heat.

2. In a bowl, mix together the mozzarella cheese, flour, Parmesan cheese, eggs, and spinach. Season with salt, pepper and nutmeg. If the mixture is very soft, put it into the refrigerator to firm up for about 30 minutes.

3. Roll heaped teaspoons of the mixture in a little flour. (All this can be done in advance.)

4. To cook the gnocchi, first heat the oven to low, to keep the gnocchi warm as they’re ready. Half-fill a large saucepan with lightly salted water and bring just to a boil.

5. Drop 6-8 gnocchi into the water and let them simmer very gently for about 5-10 minutes, until the float to the surface.

6. Make sure the water does not get beyond a bare simmer, and remove the gnocchi as soon as they are ready, or they may fall apart.

7. Drain the gnocchi well, then put them into a warmed serving dish, dot with a little butter and keep them warm while you cook another batch.

8. When all the gnocchi are done, sprinkle with grated Parmesan cheese and serve immediately.

When the line-up for the 2015 Chefs Series was finalized late last year, I immediately called my friend Rhonda. Her daughter, Jen, and son-in-law, Nick, love to cook and adore chef/restaurateur Kevin Gillespie—so much so that I gave them a set of knives and Kevin’s first cookbook, Fire in My Belly, when they got married. Jen is one of my daughter Kara’s childhood friends and she grew up coming here, so Rhonda decided Kevin’s class and overnight stay at Serenbe would make a wonderful Hanukkah gift.

Kevin was Kevin: a brilliant mind in a good old Southern boy body. Little known fact: He turned down a scholarship from MIT to study cooking professionally. His class sold out and everyone loved being around him—he makes people feel instantly comfortable about being in the kitchen.

Everything Kevin cooked came from his second cookbook, Pure Pork Awesomeness: Totally Cookable Recipes from Around the World, which will hit shelves March 31. This is a big year for Kevin, who also plans to open his second restaurant, Revival, in early June.

For Sunday dinner, Kevin made black-eyed peas with jowl bacon, fatback fried corn, cabbage with ham hocks, country fried steak, crispy fried catfish and warm banana pudding. And for Monday lunch he did spicy sausage and kale soup, slow-smoked pork loin with bitter greens and a Southern version of croque monsieur with bacon he made from pork shoulder. Don’t want to make your own bacon? Me neither. But this recipe will be just as delicious—and decadent—with store-bought bacon.

Cottage Bacon Croque Monsieur

• Makes 4 sandwiches
• 12 thin slices of bacon
• 2 tablespoons + 2 teaspoons butter
• 1 loaf brioche or challah bread, cut into eight 3/4–inch-thick slices
• 2 teaspoons all-purpose flour
• 1 cup half-and-half
• 3 ounces Fiscalini or other super-sharp Cheddar cheese, grated
• 4 teaspoons Dijon mustard
• 2 tablespoons freshly grated pecorino or Parmesan cheese

Arrange the bacon in a single layer in a large sauté pan and place over medium heat, working in batches as needed. Cook for 2 minutes, then flip and cook until the edges are crispy, the bacon is pinkish in color, and the fat starts turning translucent, about 2 more minutes. Transfer to a paper towel-lined plate and repeat the process until all of the bacon is cooked. Remove the pan from the heat, add 2 tablespoons of the butter to melt into the drippings.

Adjust the rack in the oven to the highest setting and preheat the broiler to high.

Brush a baking sheet with the buttery bacon drippings and brush one side of each slice of bread with the drippings. Place the bread, brushed side up, on the baking sheet. Broil until the edges start to brown, about 2 minutes. Remove from the oven, flip the bread, and brush the other side with the buttery bacon drippings. Return to the oven and toast until the edges start to brown, another 2 minutes or so.

Decrease the broiler temperature to low and move the oven rack down one notch.

In a small saucepan over medium heat, melt the remaining 2 teaspoons butter. Stir in the flour and, stirring constantly, cook for 2 minutes. Slowly stir in the half-and-half and bring to a boil; cook for another 2 minutes or until thick. Stir in the cheddar until melted and smooth.

Spread each toast with Dijon and a light sprinkling of pecorino. Build each sandwich with 3 slices cottage bacon and a toast on top. Place on a parchment paper-lined baking sheet and spoon a generous amount of sauce over each sandwich, making sure all of the edges are covered completely with sauce so they won’t burn. Evenly sprinkle the remaining pecorino over the tops of the sandwiches and broil until browned and bubbly, about 4 minutes.