About Me

On Cooking

Make no mistake, I am in no way remarkable in my love affair with the kitchen.  In that I believe that there is something that makes us all intrinsically human, the common denominator for many, many of us is attached to memories, dishes, personalities and inspiration all arising from cooking.  My attachment is rooted in a need to celebrate my family and how fucking awesome they are (and no, my Tourettes is not acting up – they are just that cool).  The time spent laboring in the kitchen was always a statement of love, from red sauce that simmered for days before serving, to the sheer magnitude of dishes involved in feijoada completa.  You could measure the effort based on the number of dishes dirtied in the process – not to poo poo the one-pot supper, but the meals of my memories always included a goodly amount of porcelain and pots to get the job done.  I adored this, and it’s the way I cook for folks I love today.

I cook because it was what my great-grandmothers, grandmothers and mother all did, and when they did, it always seemed effortless.  I gush over ingredients and recipes that remind me of them, and think back to the time when it was a privilege to be invited into the kitchen to help with an old recipe.  I look for those experiences in the kitchen that turn all preconceived notions right around (read: sending them packing and hitting the road), and live for the meals that make me question why I haven’t indulged in a particular taste combination earlier than that moment.  I am literally bipolar in a great market, vacillating from giddy bliss over sexy ingredients to sadness at not having enough time to cook, mouths to feed or fridge space for leftovers.  I’m ok with my psychosis.  Really, I am.  Because I know that it’s an extension of me that has been passed down as much as my brown eyes and dark hair came directly from my family before me.  I cook because it’s absolutely who I am.

On Writing

I giggle about this blog, as I fought it for a goodly while before giving in.  All these months later, I couldn’t imagine my life without it.  It’s easy to feel like a total nerd pontificating about my musings in the kitchen, so I figured that rather than just gab with whomever would give me a second of their time, I’d start to catalog these ramblings for accessing later.  And maybe share them with others who might be interested.  All these recipes later, I find myself gabbing even more than before, but also constantly discovering the connections between the ways I’ve cooked for years and the ways in which my cooking is constantly changing and evolving.  I question all of the supposed absolutes that we create with what we choose to eat, like the existential crisis between a loathing of factory farms and an animalistic craving for such danger as a dirty water hot dog.  I know that these contradictions help us to better understand why we love what we love and why we cook the way that we do.  My posts are as much for me as they are for you, and I am fiercely dedicated to learning as much as I can in this ever-so-short life, which is why you guys are as much a part of this site as I am.