MY STORY

Some of my earliest memories are of cooking. I distinctly remember my mom making pasta carbonara when I was around five years old in a blue cast-iron skillet. I still flash back to the warmth and love I felt in that room, and how salty-good that pasta was. When I travel, the first thing I do is find a good latte. Whole milk, please. And when I am sad, I get sushi. Does rice soak up sadness? Or is it the wasabi that zings it out of me? Who knows. But I love it.

 

My relationship with food hasn't always been hunky-dori. I was bulimic in my teens and it took me a very long time to learn to love my body and the food I feed it with. In fact, it is still a journey and part of what inspired me to start this blog.

 

I've gotten pretty good at teaching people how to make bread, and that's my happy place. I hope you're join me in the kitchen.