Dreams and the Kitchen

I used to dream that my mountains of journals and diaries would someday be found and published to great acclaim, and that I might even be a awarded a posthumous Pulitzer. There are a few kinks in the romantic plan, among them the fact that my illegible scrawls would require the expertise of a paleographer, or in extreme cases (the adolescent period principally) a course of cryptanalysis. I’m also currently in Italy, and the probability that my diaries would be discovered and poured over- (with thirsty eyes) by someone with a solid mastery of the American language- is slim. In Rome they might even be mistaken for disposable class notes, whereas my electronic equipment and high-heeled shoes would be salvaged as valuables.

That said, my inner egocentrism has no intention of waiting for death to bring her fame. Vanity aside, there’s just no sense in being “someone” when according to medical science you ought to henceforth be referred to in the simple past tense.

I never liked the word BLOG. It’s indelicate, highly technical, and seemed at once a passing trend. Now that the truth of the BLOG boom is out there, I cannot go on living my life as I did yesterday. I am an undeniable wealth of information about Italy and Rome, and much of what falls under the categories of Shopping, Eating, Nightlife, and Accommodation. While I’m not writing nearly as much as I ought to, I am cruising the freelance circuit and helping out friends and relatives with their travel queries. Now I’m live and online!

Mmmmmm. Let’s talk about food. Some us were born to sing and dance or kick around a soccer ball. Others are more cut out for politics or deep space exploration.

I eat. I cook as well. It should never have been a mystery. The signs were there. I’m not one of those people who after a near-death experience goes on to write Carpe Diem themed best-sellers. I simply grew up, felt my pants getting tighter, and considering my active lifestyle and general lack of skinny friends… it all became quite clear.

A recent family reunion opened my eyes to the fact that I was put on this earth to explore the pathways of our collective gastronomic heritage. For a recent venture into food television I’ve had to write down 50 of my recipes. This proved to be an arduous task, as I never use them. I’m guided by a culinary muse. That and a glance at epicurious.com. It’s a gift that took 29 years to unwrap, and as an aspiring adult, I’m now determined to put it to use.

I welcome you to join me as I recount the adventures of my appetite in the city where carousing Romans once binged and purged with the sole intention of eating as much as possible. Call it pacing yourself. I call it downright practical.

Welcome to Italycious and Buon Appetito!