They say it takes a village, but in my case, maybe just a cul-de-sac in Tulsa, Oklahoma where I grew up. It’s clear that childhood experiences groomed me for a life in food. My Italian mother routinely cooked our evening meals, and let me roll the meatballs. My father, with his engineering mind, constructed metal egg molds so we could enjoy mock McMuffins without the drive-through. On Christmas we swapped Hello Dolly’s for our neighbor’s homemade sushi (we really made out on that one). And I was writing menus and calling orders as soon as I could climb kitchen counters to grab ingredients. No surprise a career in food followed.

It’s the hustle and the bustle and the Wall Street of the city that supports my business as a personal chef. I’ve cooked uptown and downtown, in brownstones, pre-wars, and lofts; kitchen envy is unavoidable. My home kitchen is a little more “low-country”. Come dinnertime I’m a bull in a china shop, clinking into hanging pots, stacking and un-stacking mixing bowls and sheet pans (my husband plays records, I suspect, to drown out the noise). With frustratingly few appliances of convenience, our kitchen still hums along. Depending on the hours spent on my feet on a given day, I might be found tending to my CSA bounty, pulling something from the back of the fridge, or exploring via foot, bridge or tunnel for my next meal.

Fridge and Tunnel is for eaters who define eating “well” as home-cooked, local and sustainable, or 5 for $1. Inspired by the food culture of New York, this blog focuses on food trends and traditions as well as local and global issues surrounding our health and the health of our food supply.  


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