|Domenica Marchetti's Eggplant and Porcini "Meatballs" in Tomato Sauce|
If you are like me my travels (whether it be to the neighbouring town or across the pond) are centred around food experiences. In speaking with friends I am certain I am not the only one who relives life's most intimate details through the sight, smell and taste of particular foods. Each of us seems to have a favourite or, in some cases, a most hated dish with which they can recall a particular moment of their lives. I am far more likely to associate a place with the stone cold and lumpy soup I had at the local pub or the shatteringly crisp crust on the lemon meringue pie than the art instalment I saw at the Louvre. For me memories have always been made in the kitchen. Sharing a table and breaking bread together is the best way to get to know a country and its people. The taste or smell of an enticing meal is capable of painting a picture with richer, deeper brush strokes than any snapshot in your photo album. I find it interesting that while I struggle to remember my cellphone number or remember what I did yesterday the merest sniff of bread baking in the oven will evoke a plethora of memories and has me gathered around the kitchen table with my dad kneading dough with 5 year old chubby little fingers with frightening clarity.