Born and raised in suburban Michigan, my love of food
started at a very young age. My earliest
food memories are of farm-fresh corn on the cob and luscious peak-of-the-season
tomatoes my mother would purchase from roadside produce stands in the late months
of summer. My grandparents had 10 acres
of property, on which wild raspberries grew in abundance. I remember going on walks with my grandmother
with a little copper bucket so we could pick them to have for dessert. My grandfather was a hunter, so we would
often go to my grandparents’ home in late fall to have that season’s duck,
which was more often than not served with wild rice from the Great Lakes
area. From a very early age, I learned
that fresh, seasonal, local food tastes best.
As a child, my family and I would take a road trip every
summer. I had a little paperback book
about the US that had a chapter devoted to the history and highlights of each
state. There was a map in the beginning
of the book and I would use a pencil to color in each state that I’d been
to. By high school, I had 32 states
filled in.
These first travels in my life also taught me about regional
food. For example, my favorite part of
visiting Maine was a little restaurant called Abel’s in Bar Harbor. When I was about 9, I got to go outside to
the tank and pick out my very own lobster.
It was the most delicious thing I had ever eaten. A couple years later, we went to Yellowstone,
where I had a burger made with BISON meat!
I was astounded! During a trip to
Georgia, I first encountered a strange item on a breakfast menu called
grits. I had never heard of it
before. I was amazed!
When I moved to California at the age of 24, I was excited
to find that instead of the end-of-the-summer farm stands, there were actual
farmer’s MARKETS in addition to YEAR ROUND vegetable stands.
After I was married, my husband and I traveled to Italy many times to visit his family there. Having grown up in a household with 2 American parents with German ancestry, my idea of Italian food was pasta and red sauce (which came from a jar) with maybe some garlic bread found in the frozen section of the grocery store if the mood swept you. And of course peperoni pizza from Dominos. My first trip to Rome is REALLY what ignited my passion for food. The Italians took my appreciation for fresh ingredients to a whole new level. Their ability to take the most simple ingredients and put them together in a way that makes each component sing while perfectly harmonizing the flavors of the dish as a whole …. It really is genius.
These trips led to side trips to different regions of Italy
(on tours led by the Italian relatives), and also to other European countries
such as France, Spain, Ireland, and England.
Before I ever opened a book or heated a pan in culinary school,
experiencing the regional cuisine of these cultures were to become the
foundation of my education. I began
buying cookbooks so I could recreate what I experienced in Europe at home. And I watched so many hours of The
Foodnetwork, that the logo was permanently burned into our TV screen!
After my husband and I divorced, I followed my dream and
enrolled in culinary school. During this
time, I also found out my mother had stage 3 esophageal cancer. Two months into my education, I had to fly
home to be with my sister at my mother’s bedside as she underwent an
esophagectomy, removing her esophagus and the cancer it contained. The most difficult and horrifying experience
I have ever had was seeing my loving, patient, strong mother in that
state. She was in so much pain and so
helpless, and my sister and I couldn’t do anything to make her better. We could just hold her hand and tell her how
much we loved her.
After 2 weeks, I returned to San Diego and to school. Because of the time I missed, I had to join
another class that was about 6 weeks behind my original one. I was determined to graduate and to do the
best I could possibly do so I could make my mother proud.
However, she was never able to fully recover from the
surgery. In September of 2011 – 3 months
before graduation -- she passed away in her sleep. Once again, I flew home to Michigan to be
with my family and to help my sister plan the funeral.
A week later, I picked up at school where I had left off,
joining the same class. I had to finish,
no matter what. And I did. During the entire program, I never earned
less than an A-. I graduated at the top
of my class, and I was the recipient of The President’s Award for my dedication
to the culinary profession and for my commitment to the highest of standards. That award was for my mother.
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