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I believe in a home cooked meal. For my family and I, dinner has always been an important facet of our home life. It was a time and place set aside for one another, a place we would gather and talk and share. No matter how hectic my dad’s day at work was, how many problems my mom solved as a special education teacher that day, or how long my brother’s and I school day was, I think we all took solace in the fact that midst the unwinding and relaxing by ourselves, there was a time set aside for all of us to be together as a family. Ever since I can remember, I was always involved in the dinner somehow, even if it was when I was so young all I could do was give everyone napkins and set the table, but I was still a part of it. As I got older, I became more interested in cooking and developed a love for food and making meals, gaining not only knowledge and skill, but also a personal cooking philosophy.
Although there were countless dinners in my 18 years of living, I don’t think any display the notion of family and sharing better than Thanksgiving dinner. When I was younger, I can remember standing next to my mom on a stool over the sink peeling potatoes to make the same mashed potatoes we had every year, and every year it was my job to peel those potatoes. Over the years I took over making more and more of the myriads of dishes to be served at our vast and seemingly endless dining room table. When I was 15 years old, I cooked my first Thanksgiving meal entirely by myself. It took me days to conceptualize, visualize, and execute this meal. My menu was extensive, starting with a shaved fennel and orange salad all the way down to my pumpkin pie crème brulee¢.