Ramblings of a Wannabe Food Writer

I’m not a chef (although sometimes I wish I was). I’m not an established food blogger / journalist either.

Q: So why should anyone read this?

A: Food and the human connection.

Regardless of our experience in the food industry and regardless of our career path — we all need food to survive. That doesn't mean everyone can articulate their latest restaurant experience, nor does it mean that everyone values food in the same way. But if nothing else, humans are connected by food. They need it, they crave it and many find passion in it.

To write off a person’s view point solely because they are not an “expert” ignores their unique connection with food. I would never write off a person’s point of view on a topic they were passionate about. I firmly believe that passion trumps most in this world — whether that’s skill or experience. Passion leads to knowledge, knowledge leads to skill, and skill leads to experience.

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Call me a “foodie” (or whatever you prefer) but food is fun. Maybe I just watch way too much Anthony Bourdain — but food is both a passion and a hobby. I’ll probably never go to culinary school (like my mother) or become a lifelong baker (like my father) but I won’t let that stop me from experiencing the art of cooking. I’m determined to learn about food — and I’m more than ready to embark on a life full of culinary adventures.

Growing up in a house where my mother had the time and money to make homemade meals almost every night was a blessing. So when it came to food, I was spoiled. I don’t remember it, but she used to tell me stories about how I was eating salmon at the age of 2. By the time I was 10, I was ordering calamari at our favorite Italian restaurant, Vito’s — much to the awe of the waitress. “He knows what calamari is, right?” to which my mom responded “He sure does,” with the usual pride in her voice. In my teens, I spent most of my time skateboarding around town, eating Whopper Juniors — ignoring the wonders of the culinary world. But when I came home for dinner, there was always something ready for me. Something good, something inspired. I was so spoiled that when leftover night came around, choosing between Cajun Blackened Salmon and Chicken Marsala felt mundane. I would actually complain about those choices. “Ugh leftovers, again.”

After living the first 18 years of my life in a cookie-cutter suburb, I moved into Boston College. Those four years provided me with more cultural growth than then rest of my life combined. As a child and throughout my teen years, I didn't have many non-white friends. Therefore, my food consumption centered mostly around familial traditions (Italian on my father’s side and Jewish on my mother’s). But when college came around, the diversity of my friendships grew — leading to a greater diversity in my food choices.

Two of my most vivid culinary experiences came in Boston’s Chinatown — one delicious and one a tad too adventurous for the time. First was stir-fried frog with garlic, which was absolutely incredible. I found it remarkable how such a tiny animal could be packed with such immense flavor. The texture was a cross between chicken (Cliché alert) and lobster — tender, melt-in-your-mouth goodness to say the least. Now onto my not-so-great experience with jellyfish. My first mistake was failing to recognize that this was a cold dish. I’ll be honest, the flavor wasn't bad, but I couldn't get past the gelatinous crunch of the jellyfish itself. With a little (or a lot) of mental preparation, I’d be more than willing to give it another go.

The best part about finding passion in food is that you will never stop experiencing it (as long as you keep eating). Just recently I had one of the best and most unique meals of my young life — Omakase from Miyake in Portland, ME. What stood out to me was the immaculate attention to detail in the construction of each course. The flavor was refined, and the presentation was inviting. Each course provided a new level of flavor — meticulously crafted for the intricacies of the human palate. My favorite course of the meal consisted of monk fish liver pâté, raw lobster in garlic oil, salmon toro and more (pictured throughout).

I could ramble for hours about all the various food experiences in my life (what led me on this culinary adventure, where I think it’s heading, etc…) but I’ll save that for another time. If nothing else, food is important. Food is art; and it is most certainly more than the protein bar we grab as we rush from place to place.