We are happy that you are interested in the story behind Misty Mountain Smoke House.
We founded our company in 2012 with the devoted pledge to be real, be honest and above all, add amazing flavor to your cooking. Donna and I are very excited to share our culinary life and the flavors of our lives with everyone. We believe in giving our customers an honest product with the most flavor we can in a bottle. We don’t sell you a bottle of salt.
We feel confident once you try our spice blends they will be the variety of your life. If you want to read the entire story of Misty Mountain Smoke House, go grab a favorite beverage and snack, settle in, and let me take you on a journey. A journey of a couple of American kids, wide eyed and ready for adventure.
Spice Blends – Quartz Hill California 2014
Webmasters are an interesting breed of humans.
They do incredible work creating and organizing a sloppy lump of ideas into a slick professional presentation of information for our cyber friends and customers to peruse.
Ours is a truly creative soul. He is a force of artistic nature to be reckoned with. He insists you dear cyber surfers will want to know who we are and just what kind of oddball kooks would jump into the blended spice business.
Who am I to argue? Here then is the story, it’s a bit of history, some philosophy, and small rushing rivers of blood, sweat, and tears.
Spice Blends – Iowa 1968:
I am a ten year old farm kid who has been “making hay” with all my male relatives since before the sun came up that day. We are sweaty, smelly and covered in alfalfa dust.
Following the men into the kitchen of my Aunt Jo we are overwhelmed with the most absolutely delicious aromas. It’s time for the noon meal. It’s a typical farm lunch with a massive platter of roast pork, tubs of mashed potatoes, garden green beans simmered with fatback bacon all morning, corn, peas, home made noodles and enough gravy to fill a pond. There is very little conversation. Pointing and grunting, we disperse the vittles to island size plates set before us. “Pass the peas, pass the corn, pass the meat” are the only clearly articulated words among the eating machines now set about a more enjoyable kind of work. I have to work fast and assertively to get my share. However, grandpa George makes sure I get plenty. The vittles all disappear fast.