I've never been that fond of Paula Deen ...

... but this recipe for her hashbrown casserole got the better of me.

I found it earlier this week when I was thinking about having some people over for a holiday brunch. For some reason when I started contemplating hearty egg and sausage dishes, I gravitated to the Paula Deen cookbook.

I consulted with my copy of Paula Deen Celebrates, the first addition to my now growing collection of autographed cookbooks. The holiday brunch didn't pan out, but the hashbrown casserole sounded good, so I figured I'd make it for myself. (And various co-workers who I shared it with at work today. Feeding the bosses can never hurt ...)

But my Paual Deen story actually starts about eight years ago before I moved to Florida. Before Paula made it big.

My father and I were driving to Jacksonville, where I was spending my summer doing an internship at the newspaper. Along the way, we stopped in some southern state where my dad found a copy of her original Lady and Sons cookbook, all authentic and spiral bound like she had it done at Kinkos.

Later that summer my dad and some other family members stopped at the Lady and Sons restaurant on the way down to see me. My dad raved about the food. Pure southern cooking. As the story goes, he asked the waitress to give the chef his compliment.

"Well why don't you tell her yourself," the waitress told him. "She's sitting over there having dinner with her family."

Maybe this is where I got the foodie stalking from. My dad went over, shook Paula Deen's hand, got his picture taken with her and my brother and told her the food was delicious. She was sweet as pecan pie to him, and thus began my dad's Paula Deen fandom.

Not long after my dad's visit, as another story goes, the people from the Food Network stopped at the restaurant and they, too, were wowed by her cooking. The rest, as they say, is history.

Fast forward a few years to when I'm living in Sarasota. I saw ads that Paula Deen was coming to town to do a book signing right around the holidays. I thought that would make a great gift for my father.

The whole operation was quite strict. You needed to call and order your cookbook from the now defunct Sarasota News and Books, pick it up that evening (probably to ensure you bought it from them) and then wait in the line to see her.

There were probably about 400 people waiting in the line when we got there. Another 200 or so waited in a separate line for those who didn't get their cookbook far enough in advance, but could wait and see if she still had time to sign them.

The rules were rigid as we made our way into the store. No one was allowed in who wasn't getting a cookbook signed. Show your receipt. Open you book to the appropriate page. No pictures. No personal message. Don't bother asking. I felt a little bit like cattle being herded.

The line moved swiftly, basically giving you a quick walk past the table where she sat with her husband signing "Paula" assembly line style.

Despite the warning, I couldn't help but ask her to personalize it for my father.

"Hi Paula. My dad loves you. He met you at your restaurant a few years ago. Could you please personalize it for him?"

She didn't even answer. She just signed her name and slid it down the table and grabbed the next one. We snuck a friend of mine in the store to take a picture of me getting the book signed. The picture revealed Paula Deen giving me a nasty look as I plead with her.

I was a little disappointed, but thus began my dislike of Paula Deen. (Even though I do find some of her shows on the Food Network entertaining.)

Some of my friends have since been to her restaurant and say it's morphed into a totally different place then it as when my father met her. Apparently it's a multi-story, multi-hour wait to get in kind of place. And the food wasn't as good as they expected.

As far as the casserole goes, not so awful : )