When I trace my interest in food, it’s hard to pinpoint exactly when it all started. As I’ve mentioned before, my love affair specifically with organic, natural, locally-grown products began in my early 20s.
But truthfully, if I were to dig a little deeper, my deep and complicated relationship with food started earlier.
I had quite a few food influences when I was growing up. My stepfather is Hungarian and his family lived in Switzerland and France before finally settling in the US. He knows his way around a plate of food like no other, jumping at the chance to order tripe and sweetbreads when we dine out. When I was 16, he taught me to appreciate a real French baguette, and wouldn’t let me travel to Paris on a family vacation until I learned to eat Brie cheese with the rind.
Like me, my mother was – and is to this day – an avid cookbook collector. I grew up watching her pull thick volumes off the shelves to whip up a batch of pancakes or find inspiration for a new stir fry.
Food traditions run deep.
But I think that my relationship with food goes back even earlier. My gut (no pun intended) tells me that it was in Elementary school when I was finally introduced to that shareable, swappable, social pecking order-inducing meal of all meals: school lunch.
