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Around My Table
Food comes alive for me when it tells a story, and nearly every dish I make
has one — of a hike with a friend through the hills to forage for mushrooms,
of an afternoon spent canning tomatoes with the neighbors. When I cook or
eat those dishes, I remember the friends and our shared times.
A large wooden table sits at the center of most Italian families. My nonna
Vicenciana's heavy table occupied the center of her large, ground floor kitchen,
warmed by her wood-burning cook stove. An "American" kitchen on the first
floor remained almost unused, while all the family activities took place
around her big table. A parade of delicious tastes from her pantry —
mountain air-cured prosciutto, canned sweet red peppers, and olives —
accompanied the long hours of story telling.
The dishes I create today continue to draw on memories of my Italian heritage
that's as much about family and tradition as it is about food. And in my
own kitchen, I have a large wooden table. My kids do homework there, and
friends gather round it with glasses of wine as I cook. For years, my restaurant
staff knew they were welcome any Sunday afternoon to join the circle around
my table.
Just as staff members have become family to me, so the small, local producers
and growers who understand and share my passion for perfection have become
friends. Nothing gives me greater pleasure than inviting them into my kitchen
to cook and eat with me, and leave their imprint on my kitchen table. |
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