I come from a family of cooks. We associate food with caring for others and pleasant feelings.
Gatherings in my childhood included my mother’s mouthwatering pies, my aunt’s homemade squash-stuffed tortellini and my uncle’s oven-roasted fresh turkey.
There were always too many appetizers, side dishes and desserts. We left the table stuffed and content.
While dining out, I used to get a chuckle out of watching my parents split a meal or snack.
Many years ago my parents were at a cafe, each enjoying a cup of coffee and sharing a blueberry muffin. An elderly gentleman came over, noted how pretty my mom was and told my father, “Sir, if she were my wife, I’d give her a whole muffin.” That story is a family heirloom.