Kitchen Scars

It has been said that kitchen scars are the sign of a great, impassioned chef. For the past few years, my culinary experiments have lead to quite a collection of cuts and odd burns that no amount of vitamin E can remedy. They are conventionally ugly--but I bear these markings with an odd sense of pride--Each has a backstory, representative of a lesson learnt, a dish that left its imprint on me. Even as I type this, the middle finger on my right hand is gauzed up and unusable--A result of an unfortunate mishap attempting to thinly slice squash blossoms with a cleaver. The pain was unbearable-- but I have lived to tell the story...

I'm inspired to put together a little collection of short writings dealing with the assemblage of kitchen scars-- where every piece correlates with a recipe and every recipe with a culinary adventure. In the meantime, I hope to stay clear of any gastronomical injuries as the summer unfolds and my mom's vegetable garden blossoms.