Secret Ingredient is Always Ma
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To honor my Ma
My Ma was a breast cancer survivor. She faced that battle with incredible strength and grace, and we were blessed to have many beautiful years with her after her mastectomy. But life has a way of throwing unexpected challenges our way. Years later, she was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, and eventually, we lost her to complications from the disease. My Ma was so much more than her illnesses. She was the heart of our home. She poured love into everything she did, especially her cooking. Her kitchen was a place of warmth, laughter, and the most delicious smells you could imagine.…
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My Ma also had Alzheimer’s
My Ma went through her mastectomy and then later in life was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. As the disease progressed, her mind slowly returned to her childhood, the happiest time of her life. She was raised in Sicily during World War II, and only made it through the second grade. Life was hard, but when she spoke about those years, her face lit up. She’d talk about her parents, siblings, cousins, everyone, because they were good to her, and those memories stayed tucked safely in her heart. In 2013, we had the privilege of visiting Sicily with her. We stayed in…
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When Life Hands You Lemons, Make Limoncello
Sicilian women don’t waste anything. Not food, not time, and certainly not lemons. Growing up, my Ma would turn the simplest things into magic. A bowl of bruised fruit became jam, a pile of stale bread turned into meatballs, and a tough week could always be softened by a shot of homemade limoncello. When I had my double mastectomy, I thought of her a lot. She faced her own surgery years before me, and she never once complained. Instead, she poured herself a glass of wine, kissed me on the forehead, and said, “We’re not broken, we’re just seasoned.” Leave…
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Reclaiming Joy, One Recipe at a Time
When I first lost my breasts, I thought I’d also lost a part of who I was. The reflection in the mirror didn’t match the woman I remembered. Strong, curvy, confident, and unapologetically herself. But then, one afternoon, I walked into the kitchen and realized something: I still had the one thing that’s always defined me. Love for good food and family. Cooking became my way back to myself. The rhythm of chopping garlic, the sizzle of olive oil, the smell of tomatoes simmering. It grounded me in the present. Each recipe brought me closer to the woman I used…