Everytime I bring a dish somewhere or have folks over or even talk about food or gardening, I am asked for recipes, tips, advice. I am always willing and eager to share and generally have good intentions, but it seems I never do pass along the requested information. Finally, after being reminded by a good friend, again, that I owe her a dozen or so recipes from the last year or so, I decided to do the only logical thing, the only modern thing. What you may ask, why of course, to blog.
I don't pretend that you'll find anything eloquent or profound, but I will try for delicious, wholesome, always vegetarian. Most often tried and true.
So welcome to my blog. I'm hoping to not only remember all those recipes that have been requested over the years, but to come up with some new ones too. And add some other interesting commentary about cooking, gardening, shopping locally and whatnot.
Before all that, here's a little background on my cooking.
I've been cooking, gardening and eating vegetarian for over twenty years. Just a few years after becoming a vegetarian, I met my partner, Frank, also a committed vegetarian and of Italian heritage. His family has a strong ethnic heritage, one centered around food. It was in the midst of becoming an adult and a householder that Frank's mother, Ellie, and his grandmother, Gerarda, one of my son's namesakes, taught me how to cook Italian food. I would say that my style of cooking, while having branched out to every corner of the globe, is still rooted in the mediterranean. Around my 30th birthday, I decided that while I was an accomplished cook, I was a reluctant baker. With our kitchen newly renovated and a fancy stove to work with, I embarked on becoming a better baker. Fifteen years later, or thereabouts, I can make a pie without consulting any recipe at all and can tackle even the most complicated of pastries. Kudos must go to my mom on this one since she is that kind of baker - not one to rely on a recipe, but certainly one to bake at every occasion and who sees baking as the answer to insomnia, even in the middle of the night. She invited me to bake with her from an early age and perhaps my insecurity stemmed from feeling like I had some big shoes to fill. And one last big influence. As I was getting to know myself as an artist, my dear friend and fellow artist, Roberta Theriault, would often refer to her pantry as her pallet and her process of making dinner akin to the process of making art - spontanteous, and free. And somehow this freed whatever inclination I may have had (if I did) to follow the recipe, the rule, especially for savory cooking, but more and more for baking too.
And yay to my family of adventurous eaters who so appreciate my cooking. They certainly give me the freedom to have fun in the kitchen.