About Me

My parents did not force me to eat – anything.  They lived by the general rule that if I was hungry I would eat and, perhaps more importantly, I would not starve myself.  I spent many dinners at restaurants happily waiting for everyone else to finish their steak, fish or chicken so that I could pick something out at the local grocery store on the way home.  I never had any desire to eat meat, fish or poultry.  It never appealed to me and my parents did not try to change my mind.

Both my paternal and maternal grandmother worried about how any person could possibly survive without eating the staple animal products that keeps every ordinary Jane alive and healthy.  Different schemes to entice me to eat meat were undertaken during my formative years.  Total refusal and a choking incident that involved quarter-size “vitamins” put these efforts quickly to rest. Visiting school friends presented an additional problem as their well meaning parents found it more difficult to accept my parents’ philosophy.  I became a master at moving food around on my plate, and when that did not work my parents and I decided that “overnights” were one way only – good friends spent the night with me at my home.

I was not called a vegetarian growing up in Worcester, MA.  Instead, I was called an all-around picky eater, otherwise known as a pain in the neck.  To make matters worse, I refused to eat anything that came out of the freezer or in a can.  Natural, fresh ingredients were the sole staples of my diet.  Cooking for myself was my only option.  And so, as soon as I could reach the stove atop our tallest kitchen stool, my food education began.