Middle East, Your Own Feast

There are some days that just don’t blend. My memory is like a treasure trove of places and people and things, those that help me conjure up each post; each memory, while different in feel, has a similar undercurrent: individuality and food. The year was 1994. My parent’s best friends owned a a local pharmacy in…

Curtailing Cooking

I always had “major anxiety” (and lets be honest, was a bit jealous) from those particular people who could fly by the seat of their pants, never organize anything in advance, never pre-plan, and yet somehow end up with perfect results, or without any consequence to their malaise. But, as I got older in life,…

Open The Flood Gates

It’s kind of like Pamplona: the gates swing open… and ready, set, bull! Cooking, for me, is like opening the gates of something packed-with-action: the beginning and middle are irresolute, yet, somehow, the finale brings happiness to all spectators and participators; it leaves people adamantly wanting more. As with all other tasks or challenges in life, I abandon any traces of fear before…

Creating Concoctions Part 1

I remember it vividly: it was winter, the sun set early. 5:30 pm and staunchly dark outside- I bravely took that evenings still frozen, whole chicken, and chucked into a soup pot with dried oregano and whole, uncut lemons, generously squeezing an entire bottle of Hidden Valley Ranch Dressing all over the contents. I belted out, “dinner…