I am not sure how many of you know of my family background. Many know that I married into a French family and thus embarked on a lifetime of all things French. I even worked under the tutelage of a French Chef to learn the French Classics while living in NYC during the 1980’s. Little did I know then how much my own heritage would play in my passion for cooking. A journalist asked me, “When was it that you developed your appreciation of food and the importance of fresh ingredients?” I immediately turned to my first memories of food. I have to admit that these memories aren’t of fine restaurants in France or Italy but are of my daily childhood routine. I grew up with my father’s family of Italian immigrants close by. We enjoyed our ritual Sunday lunch surrounding a very long dining table at my grandmother’s house. Every Sunday I was joined by my uncles, aunts and cousins as we waited for the courses to magically appear served by my Grandmother from her small kitchen. The aromas of fresh fennel and strong black coffee will forever take me to the seat at my Grandmother’s table. (to be continued)
I was finishing this blog as the atrocities occurred in Paris…my only Food for Thought…When will HUMANITY learn to lead not from FEAR but from COMPASSION?