I was the oldest child, and when things got chaotic in my house, I was sent to my Grandma Sunna's for awhile. She lived in a large white clapboard house in Passaic, New Jersey. Sunna was stylish, always wore chunky necklaces and matching earrings; glasses with rhinestones in the corner. She never learned to drive. My grandma shopped daily for food, something that I, growing up in the Pennsylvania suburbs never experienced. We walked downtown and she stopped at the bakery and the green grocer, chatting with the counter people and old friends we would encounter.

When we got back to the house, she would hand me a worn blue checkered apron, folded over to fit me, and we would start cooking. My mom was busy going to college, raising 4 children and my dad worked two jobs. Dinners were hasty. But at Sunna's, they were magical. We would knead dough and watch it rise. She would send me out to her garden to pick tomatoes and parsley. " Is there a recipe for that sauce", I'd ask. She'd say, "It's written down, but the real flavor comes from the love you put into your food."

Then I grew up. I went to college, got married and became a mom. I always had a love of maps and my Poppy had a study filled with globes and vintage books. Looking back, that's where my love affair with cartography began. I had a career outside the home, but 8 years ago I started my map jewelry and home goods business. It has been a wonderful ride and I still enjoy long hours at the bench.

Lately, I've been restless. My two passions, cooking and telling stories have been on the back burner for way too long. That my friends, in the blink of an eye, is how "Peas on a Knife" was born. Simple vegan and vegetarian cooking and stories you couldn't make up. I hope you'll join me.

eat well: tell stories and kiss the ones you love,

 photo knife-background-sig_zpsjlma9cfq.png
share this on »
Add a comment »

Leave a Reply