My mom tells me that I was the slowest and most careful eater of all of her six children. Not that I was hard to feed, but that I loved food so much I had to make sure every little piece made it into my mouth. So, I guess food and I always had a “special relationship.”
As I got older, I knew that I was meant to be in the kitchen and my Mother made sure that I had every opportunity to be. I was the official helper with creating our family meals. While my older sister was determined to stay clear of the kitchen, I could always be found either elbow deep in dough or with my head buried in the fridge. My mom was the queen of opening her cupboard to scan the shelves for that perfect ingredient which would make her meal into that something special. She was no culinary extravagant, nor did she claim to be, but she had a gift for flavors and was not afraid to try new things.
When I was nine years old I started to home school, and it was there that I began to develop my own culinary creativity. Everyday at lunchtime I became an artist in the kitchen and I put myself to work gathering all the bold ingredients that would become my pallet. I opened all the cabinet doors and rummaged through the fridge searching for that one ingredient which would kick start my “meal of the day.” Would it be eggs and mushroom for an omelet (which my mom had shown me the previous year)? Or would it be a piece of aged Canadian cheddar to create the perfect grilled cheese with tomato soup (my favorite)? And it never stopped there. Who wants just a plain grilled cheese? Where was the fun in that? As I had seen my mom do a million times before, I sifted through the spice cupboard and grabbed the garlic and that herb (was it oregano that made it taste like a pizza?) and began my days creation.
It was my mom who gave me the gift of creativity to explore beyond the norm, but it was my dad who showed me a true example of confidence in the kitchen. There was a pride with the men in my family as they were all known as the breakfast kings. No matter the time of day, if we were having a breakfast meal, my dad was in charge. He had a confidence in the kitchen that demanded respect. If you wanted something for breakfast besides cereal, he was your guy. Pancakes, bacon, eggs sunny-side up and cooked perfectly runny (or “daddy eggs” as us kids called them), it was perfection in the kitchen. At a young age I wanted to be known for my breakfast too, just like him. I wanted to be the guy who was asked to cook something amazing and then took it to the next level.
My wife and I have been blessed to have been able to do quite a bit of international travel, and each country we’ve been to has opened up a new culinary experience that I can’t wait to take home with me and try out for myself. Because of my travels and the relationships I have built with people along the way, my mind has been awakened to a whole new culinary world. There have been many people in my life who have been influential in developing my new culinary mind: my Philippine aunt, my best friend’s mother who made organic, home-cooked meals, my Lebanese pastor, my adopted brother and sisters from Colombia… the list goes on and on. I have had the chance to visit many places, including: England, France, Mexico, Romania, Cypress, Tanzania, South Africa, Lesotho, Israel, Egypt and across the U.S. and Canada. Each of these countries has given me a new appreciation for food, and the significance the role of food plays within each individual culture. My love for the flavors of the world has driven me to push myself to try new things in the kitchen.
I love food, and I love people, and being in the culinary industry lets me spend time with the two things I love most. I look forward to sharing my love for food with the world that first shared it with me, and I hope the meals I create reflect my entire life’s culinary journey. Life is full of good people and good things. Why shouldn’t we fill it with good food, too?
