You’ll love this story. My mother was Italian. And you would think because DNA — an excellent cook. But no. She really was a bad cook. All through my childhood I had a reputation of being a fussy eater. I liked very few things she made & basically lived on mashed potatoes and Cream of Wheat. After she died & started hanging out at my aunt’s farm (SHE was a fabulous cook) I found I ate EVERYTHING. For decades I thought it was because I was literally starving. My father was a worse cook than my mother & I would eat TV dinners to survive my adolescence when I wasn’t at a friend’s house or my aunt’s.

Then — about 5 year ago (my mother had been dead 49 years this year) — my oldest sister (who is a GREAT cook) tells me that I always ate anything she fed me. And the real problem wasn’t I was a fussy eater but my mother was a bad cook. It all made sense. However, both of my parents were happy to let me believe the fault lay in me instead of the food I was served.

As an adult, I became a very good cook — thanks to my aunt’s instructions. And I love trying new foods from everywhere! I rarely find food in a restaurant I don’t care for. But then — I only went to good restaurants which were recommended by friends or colleagues.

I can make just about anything I have a taste for at home as well. The only things I can say I don’t eat is raw onion (it doesn’t like me — not the other way around) and I’m not a fan of any kind of fish eggs. I’ve had them fried, on sushi, and as caviar. I just can’t see what the fuss is about.

Thanks so much for your great response. I have to say — I have really missed you & I’m so glad you’re back. ❤

Self discovery in progress, stay tuned

Self discovery in progress, stay tuned