I’m one of the four rugrats you see there. When my family fled Vietnam after the war, it was one of the few baby photos we took with us. I grew up in a kitchen surrounded by grandmothers, aunties, cousins and my mom. It was loud. It was jovial. It was love personified. Everyday, the most rudimentary ingredients were transformed into aromatic, delectable dishes –passed down through the generations by word of mouth.
As an adult, it wasn’t until my husband and I purchased our first home (and miraculously survived a 2-year remodel) did my love for being in the kitchen resurface. My food is a blend of the scents and memories of my eastern heritage, along with unearthed ingredients, flavors and techniques of my western upbringing.
Food remains the connection. To family. To love.