In the beginning there was pasta...

You are at some family gathering or you're reminiscing with your spouse during a long car ride, taking a walk down memory lane, sharing, laughing, comparing.  The stories usually start with "there was this time when I was 6 years old...."  or  "remember that night when..."  I started to notice a trend. Almost ALL my poignant memories involved food and no one else's did.  Is this how I catalog the events...or non-events- in my life?  Is my personal timeline measured in flaky pastries and  gooey cheeses?  What the heck is wrong with me?  What kind of person remembers things this way?  Is there anyone else out there who sees the world through sauce colored glasses?
Subsequently, in the dark chasms of my mind, I began to go back in time and comb over these events more and more....trying to prove to myself whether this was, in fact, the case.  Much to my surprise, it is true.  Why should this surprise me though?  I grew up in an Italian American family....and what could be more important than those two things?  Family and food.  When I began to form this food timeline in my mind, I made several interesting discoveries. One is that there is a mysterious food "blank" during my early teenage years....when only one other thing could flood my body with higher levels of serotonin...boys.  Another observation I've made is that after having children, my food memories involve much more of their food experiences.  I think I've told my poor kid a dozen times that he used to loved baked sweet potatoes so much that he ate two for lunch once when he was a baby.
But here I am now with a family of my own, and food is just as important as it ever was.  Sure, there is no more sauce at 2pm each Sunday.  And sure, family "supper" each night (which was never optional) does not take place each night at 5 o'clock on the dot when the husband arrives, nor does it include a perfectly balanced meal with all the food groups, AND bread AND salad. But we do sit down together most nights, and yes, I try to stuff some sort of vegetable into my men at each meal.  Yes, I occasionally make Sunday sauce, I love trying new recipes, live to whip up a masterpiece and serve it to my little crowd, anxiously awaiting their praise....and Lord, I love to eat.  Now, of course, food is my nemesis....meaning, according to Webster  a: one that inflicts retribution or vengeance  (in the form of heartburn, high blood pressure and fatness) b: a formidable and usually victorious rival or opponent (meaning when you are faced with an apple or apple pie, you know which one is gonna win).

So, although I thought I could make this a book for adults, I don't think I'm a good enough writer for that.  My brother definitely got that gift.  But I think a blog is doable.  If for nothing else, it takes a small slice out of the messy lasagna in my head and puts it somwhere else, thus unclogging things a bit.

Now you know what I'm going to be writing about.  My life in food.  If your life is "in food" too, then I look forward to knowing that I'm not alone.