Welcome to the love letter to my ancestors; an homage to my childhood, to my father’s childhood; an interview with the great-grandparents I never met; my virtual recipe book and family tree.
Welcome to memories of watching my mother hover over steaming pots of soup or wrap chicken thighs with twine, to smells of wine-deglazed mirepoix and fresh “Betty” bread.
Welcome to the hodgepodge of my fabric:
Of what it means to be Italian- and Irish-American,
Ashkenazi by blood and marriage,
child of a Catholic New Yorker and a Pagan Brit,
stepchild of Jalisco and Hungary.
Welcome to the musings of a curious daughter, a perpetual student, a storyteller, a cook, and an angsty millennial.
Welcome to The Linguistics of Sauce. Take a seat and don’t eat too much before dinner.
