It was my grandma who first taught me to cook, first helped me spoon drops of rounded batter, plump with chocolate chips and sweet dough, onto cookie sheets at her kitchen table. She grew tomatoes in her backyard, made homemade pizzas, fed me delicious chicken on clear glass plates. Self-taught, she catered weddings, rolled her own cannolis. Cooking was her world; the kitchen, where she felt most comfortable.
And so it is for her today, on the ninth anniversary of her death, that I start this blog, in an attempt to pursue food, and the writing about it, with the same passion that defined her.