My grandfather was a tremendous cook. From pies to roast turkeys, a meal wasn't complete unless there were floured handprints on the cherry cabinets.

It was an idea that began in the first few months of 2016 — or more precisely, if I'm being entirely honest, it came to me on New Year's Eve of 2015.

It all started with a tin of French onion dip. It arrived to my apartment during a Fieldhouse Kitchen tailgating party.