One of the things I remember most about growing up in Venezuela was the culinary expeditions I used to embark on with my mother when I was a teenager. Mom would have called them simple errands, but, to me, they were joyous adventures in search of the freshest loaf of oatmeal bread or the perfect cut of filet mignon nestled amongst coveted opportunities to share time with my mom. Contrary to what all the adolescent parenting books claimed, I really did like my mom and loved hanging out with her and I am sure these moments where crucial in molding my passion for food.Back when I was a kid, food shopping was a daylong affair in Caracas (Venezuela’s capital city). For meat, one went to the butcher. For fish, the ;pescaderia;, or fish store (only open in …Read on

I had the perfect “aha” moment the other day. It happened after my jittery high of Sudafed wore off, my headache cleared, and I was wired with the sudden need to cook. It was at that moment that I realized I was done being sick. Two days of feeling no connection with cooking is disastrous for me. I become very, very grumpy. Immediately, I had to make up for lost time, and, being in the midsts of the Jewish High Holidays, I couldn’t have picked a better time.This is heavy-duty Jewish time. If you are going to pay a visit to a synagogue at any time of the year, this is when you’d do it. Yom Kippur, which begins sundown Friday night and runs until sundown Saturday night is the godfather of all …Read on