Hi! I’m Grace. I grew up in a stucco house on a hill in Massachusetts where strawberries, rhubarb, and thyme grew wild in the surrounding fields. I studied English at a little college in Iowa and then moved back East to teach, satisfied with my limited abilities in the kitchen as long as I could whip up passable quesadillas to munch on while I graded papers. I saved the food euphoria for when I visited home, where my mom cooked from her overflowing vegetable garden and baked pies that could make you weep.
But then one summer I went to Italy, and three mouthfuls altered the course of my life forever. The first was of hazelnut gelato, eaten one evening in Rome on a quiet cobbled street: perfectly cool-sweet-soft-nutty bliss. The second was of lardo, whipped into a mousse with salt and herbs, spread on olive oil-drenched bread and eaten in a crowded butcher shop in Chianti. Finally, pasta: floating in a green haze of mint-pea pesto, punctuated by cubes of caramelized bacon, eaten under an arbor of grapes in a medieval hilltop town at sunset.
I fell deeply, irrevocably in love with food.
These days I read cookbooks like novels. I go to bed dreaming of sea salt and chocolate and wake up with visions of watermelon radishes dancing in my head. On this blog, I share my love of (mostly) vegetarian recipes, stories about growing up with my eccentric food-loving family, and chronicles of my life dating a law student, living in New Haven CT, and attempting to make sense of what it means to be an adult.
Thanks for stopping by and happy eating!