It began with a cookbook, a revered classic I inherited from my Italian grandmother and mother.

As mentioned in Tap the Source, I didn’t know what I’d find when I first opened Il Talismano della Felicità (The Talisman of Happiness) and began reading. After the first introductory page, I was captivated. In addition to its clear culinary interest, there was a philosophical/historical intrigue (such as the author’s life advice to le donne della casa, the women of the house), and a linguistic one. Here was an Italian different from the common conversations I’d been used to. Some of the passages were poetic; others were highly technical. And some simply reinforced the intrinsic beauty of the language—its sayings, exclamations, the turns of a phrase. For example, the author refers to per far buona figura, meaning “to present a good image and attitude, to be respected and admired," though it has no true equivalent in English. And depending upon the context, it can mean something quite different, as in Che figura che ho fatto! O Madonna, che figura! (a self-deprecatory how stupid/bad/ridiculous I’ve made myself look). 

As I read on (with Paul's assistance), memories began to warm and lift like steam from a stock pot, and from these, essays. One after another, in no predetermined order, rather simply as I encountered recipes and words, they were written. They are posted here on this site (beginning with  01. Tap the Source), along with a personal portfolio of stories and poems. 

When I mentioned this project to a friend, he laughed. Food, always food! he said. I bet you and Paul met over food.  

As a matter of fact, I said, it was a box of animal crackers. 

We were in a community meeting. I hadn’t had lunch and it was nearing 6 o’clock. The building’s snack bar offered hot dogs, donuts, and ... animal crackers. The decision was instantaneous. The crackers had been a favorite of mine since my kids were small: the dry sweetness, the crunch, the incongruous shapes—some with heads snapped off, others missing one or more of their squat legs. 

I took a seat next to this handsome, white-haired giant. He made a comment about the crackers. I laughed and offered him a few. A common acquaintance noticed, said You know, I think you both speak Italian....

Paul is Italian, and bilingual. His translation assistance and humorous anecdotes have made reading Il Talismano both an education and a treat. Yes, he's a good one to have around.