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,…

Salad City

The options were intolerable. Few in number were the days of Sloppy Joes and overcooked, sticky, yet surprisingly delicious mac-and-cheese; frozen turkey sandwiches and brownish-greyish hamburgers were only some of the choices of “slop” that mimicked food we were given that summer. For most pre-teen girls, summer camp was a period of time that housed…