Bringing it home

It's not a question. Everybody knows the answer. In the ultimate battle of the culinary arts, Italy takes the cake... and then goes on to one-up her prize as she dishes out her velvety tiramisu.

For the past five months, I traveled between various tables in Italy during a semester studying abroad in Florence. While it's impossible to summarize the countless memories spent twirling forkfuls of tagliatelle and laughing amidst sips of red wine, I can confidently say that if I were to look at a calendar for the months of January through May 2011, within the confines of any bracketed date, I could pencil in the details of a wonderful meal spent with my host family and roommate. Some nights were ushered in with dancing and singing by my host granddaughter and myself, while others began with a ten-page-long wine list at a local trattoria, but the hours of talking and sharing stories, all intertwined with hunks of warm bruschetta and smudges of green pesto, remained a constant.

Returning back to the States, one might think that I'd be missing these evenings terribly. And it's true. Having the reassurance that every night I would be eating a wonderful meal accompanied by family and friends can only be described as true bliss.

Yet, the elixir to combat these feelings of loss is quite simple: Pass on these memories through the evening mealtime practice I became so addicted to.

Last night, my friend Taylor and I made a delicious Italian meal for her parents and brother, a collection of dishes that we sampled throughout our two and a half weeks spent traveling between Rome, the Cinque Terre and Tuscany. After spending a morning at the market picking out fresh ingredients for our dinner, we crafted a feast of fresh, raw artichokes drizzled with olive oil and salt, bruschetta with tomato, pecorino cheese and grilled zucchini, hot and succulent calamari, and for the main course, tagliatelle with pesto that we brought back all the way from the Ligurian Coast.

Not only was buying the ingredients and cooking the meal a great reminder of our recent journey, but being able to share our stories through food - the funny moments when we watched the stars in our limoncello stupor, the hours spent catching up on each other's lives while walking along the lush, green trails of Vernazza, the night we nearly cried when we couldn't find an open gelateria to satisfy our gelato addiction - created an emotion inside of me which brought a permanent smile to my face.

As I drove away from Taylor's house last night, sitting in the car with a happy and satisfied stomach, I couldn't help but feel as if I was right back in Italy. And then it hit me, I didn't need to wish that I was in Italy, because I was home - in the presence of people whom I love and care for. No matter where I am, whether it's Rome or Cairo or Atlanta, as long as find myself at a table, gathered with a group of genuine people and enjoying a thoughtful meal, I will always feel that I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be.

Ciao a tutti!

Greetings everyone!

I have been in Florence for one week and already feel like I'm becoming a true Italian! Everything here - from the food, the wine, the people, the art and architecture, is truly amazing.

Now that I'm settled, I'll be updating to the blog very soon! Lots of marvelous culinary experiences to report on and I'll be full of details!

Un bacio!

Taylor

Cheers!

Thursday night, I was surrounded by the merry and slightly tipsy voices of family friends as they robustly sang me "Happy Birthday," crystal classes clinking with white and red wine lapping the rims. Around this table, our rosy cheeks and laughter were clear signs that love and cheer were in sheer abundance. As we passed around plates of crisp pita and hummus, handing forkfuls of golden baked ziti across the table, the dinner marked a celebration in my life - cheers to being 21!

Looking back on the last two decades, I realized that most my birthdays have involved some sort of festivity that centers around the family table. There were the countless birthdays where my grandma made my favorite German chocolate cake with walnut rich icing, the year my friends and I sat in a cozy log cabin, sipping hot cocoa with heaping pillows of whipped cream or the time my Dad made juicy pork chops with a tangy cilantro lime marinade. While I was never conscious of food as a main focus, each dish that was placed on the table for a birthday dinner seemed extra special. It was as if the flavors were magnified and my taste buds even more eager to savor each bite.

Honoring the day we arrived on this earth is important and duly deserving of an extra slice of silky cake, a throng of sparkling candles and a bottle of bubbly to toast off the night. In celebrating the incredible opportunity of life itself, isn't it interesting that we often choose to involve food to create a special atmosphere, one that mirrors our excitement and affection for those we love? Nourishing our bodies with food, while a daily activity, can be a magnanimous gesture and provide the foundation for many wonderful memories.

The beauty of a heartfelt meal is that it doesn't just have to happen for a birthday celebration; it can occur every weekend if you like! Although some days may seem harder than others, each day is filled with reasons to throw our arms up the air and raise our glass to toast the beauty that surrounds us. So uncork the pinot noir, break out your table linens and start slicing the dill Havarti, you've got a reason to celebrate, many reasons.

An ode to oatmeal

There's just something about those golden rounds cradled in my cereal dish that makes my heart feel light. Dressed up with a little cinnamon, a smattering of crushed walnuts and a good handful of plump raisins, oatmeal is a dish that I revere with biblical proportions.

By now, you might be thinking that I'm a little "oat obsessed" or that my other breakfast options must be terribly unexciting, but I have no shame in saying that oatmeal ranks high on my list of culinary favorites. Sure, oatmeal has the potential to be utterly bland and even gummy, but given some zest and earthy additions, oatmeal can be a reason to jump out of bed in the morning and get the day started with some enthusiasm!

As a college student, oatmeal can be a saviour - it's inexpensive, quick and easy to make. I admit (and know friends who can relate) to relying on oatmeal for a quick fix when a lone dollar nestles in my wallet or when I'm rushing between a dance class and the newsroom.

Steel-cut, rolled, old fashioned, my oats know how to satisfy my hunger pangs. As I mix together a bowl of steaming oats, ginger spread and soy milk, I have the tendency to stare at my concoction rather fondly. Each oblong pearl seems to whisper, "Taylor, you're an oatmeal genius" - praise which I gladly accept.

To those non-oatmeal believers, little do you know the powers of this breakfast treat. Feeling sick? The answer, a soothing bowl of oatmeal drizzled with honey. Needing some energy? Oatmeal with a spoonful of almond butter. Wanting to impress a date? Oh yes, oatmeal with a sprinkle of coco nibs and sliced strawberries.

This week, I encourage you to see how you can put your own twist this traditional breakfast. Invite a group of friends over for a oatmeal tasting where you can enjoy each other's creations. And if you find any keepers... be sure to let this oatmeal connoisseur know about them!

Bring your offering to the table

There was a distinct difference between my Thanksgiving dinner in 2005 and this year in 2010.

Five years ago, the tension bottled up inside of me felt like the pressure bursting through the top of Mt. Saint Helens. That year, I made every dish: the popovers, cranberry sauce, stuffing, green bean casserole, mashed potatoes, the pie, even the halfway cooked turkey... don't ask. While there was some slight guidance from my Dad, he was too distracted to focus his attention towards the kitchen, so I was left to master the dinner at 15 years old. While I wanted to tackle the full smorgasbord of culinary delights, I was quickly drown in the stress of not enough oven space, ingredients spilling over the counter and trying to have all the dishes ready by 5 p.m.

My ambitions may have been noble, but I was missing the spirit of Thanksgiving: the magic of each guest bringing to the table dishes that they made - traditions, childhood favorites and new creations. Thanksgiving fosters the ability for a group of people to share part of their past and present through the offering of food prepared with their unique love and care. Focused attention on one or two dishes allows for a more effective display of their dedication and personality. Aunt Marge brings her orange-cranberry relish she makes every year, cousin Carol tried Ina Garten's new rosemary mashed potato recipe and your neighbor Jack baked two succulent, golden apple pies. As each guest places their dish on the table, you're reminded how the meal is made special by the contributions of all those who join, not by the stress and sweat one person slaving to making the entire feast - so much so that they are not able to enjoy the experience.

This year, I had the privilege of sharing Thanksgiving dinner with my godparents, their children, grandchildren, family and friends. It was a group of 15 with plenty of laughs and clinking wine glasses to fill the night with cheer and merriment. When each couple arrived, they set their contribution on the kitchen counter, and soon it was covered with the traditional Thanksgiving dishes and then some. No one person was burdened with supplying too many things and each dish was made with the attention and care it deserved. If there was any stress, it was impossible to detect, all aided by the simple act of sharing the creation of what can seem to be a daunting culinary extravaganza.

Five years later and I finally understand the lesson ... let everyone take part in the magic of Thanksgiving! Dishes shared from a variety of people cultivate a memorable and heartfelt meal... and who wouldn't want a taste of that?

Share the invitation

Daily, I committed this personal sin for the past week. Every time I did it, I shook my head, because I promised myself that I won't be in this predicament night after night. When I sat down, I was confronted with my fears and then allowed them to toy with my mind, because deep down, I knew better.

I used to get teary eyed when I thought of my Dad sitting alone at the kitchen table or at a restaurant, uttering the sad syllables that compose the request "Table for one." This image cultivated my fear of him being alone, and after his death, it turned into my fear of isolation. As much as a I didn't want to acknowledge it, eating with someone was the strongest way for me to feel connected and at peace with life's swells of chaos and sheer beauty. Yet as a college student, outside the realm of my hometown friends and family, focus on togetherness at mealtime was placed on the back burner. Then, when I confronted my desire for togetherness and companionship, meals were restored to their prominent status in my hierarchy of priorities.

For me, eating a meal is never an individual activity, it's an action that involves sharing with someone - someone you love, someone you want to know more, someone you respect. It's a chance to show your care for one another, an opportunity to get to know someone on a deeper level. My heart begins to beat faster when I think about how amazing it is that there is an event where such a beautiful connection can be made! ... That's why I feel is it a sin to keep dinnertime to ourselves - to let loneliness win, to let bitterness become of the victor.

With Thanksgiving this Thursday, we prepare for an evening where sharing a home-cooked meal with others and hours of conversation are the centerpiece of the day. In the spirit of this holiday, I am truly thankful that a day exists where Americans retreat from their fast paced lifestyles and unite around the family table. And even though the Thanksgiving meal is usually more elaborate and time consuming, couldn't we devote more evenings to meals like this?

In church today, the pastor finished with this verse, which I took to be as an answer to my question: "Behold, I stand at the door, and knock: if any man hear my voice, and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with me." Revelation 3:20

What your food says about you

I am a Bananas Foster. I am served splendidly in a variety of occasions, whether delivered aflame by a waiter in coattails or savored within the comforts of a cozy leather couch. I am exotic - the tastes of tropical banana caramelized with brown sugar and a hint of spicy cinnamon; yet I am also homely - mingled by the flavors of a mother's homemade vanilla ice cream. I am stable, my foundations, composed of fluffy yet slightly toasted pound cake, assuring that every drop of oozing goodness will be absorbed and savored. I am awaited in anticipation, inspiring the eager gaze of guests and the curiosity of children. I am the reminder of a college student's family tradition. I am the part of the day that makes life fun and joyful while being a subtle whisper to relish each moment in the present.

When you eat something, be aware of what it is that you put into your body. Be proud of what flavors excite your tongue. Be adventurous when scouring a menu. Be appreciative of the abundant harvest and hard work that graces your plate. While the concept of eating may have turned into a scientific analysis by leading dietitians and doctors, don't ever let the magic of food turn into something that causes anxiety. Take joy in the fact that you can delight in the wonder of new flavors and preserve traditions through the practice of cooking, eating and sharing this communion.

The next time you flip through a cookbook, scan the grocery isles or visit a local restaurant, ask yourself what the food you're about to eat says about you. I hope it tells a story and I hope that it is a happy one.