I cook because I love to eat. I garden because I love to cook.
When my children Jacob and Ariana were little, they used to spend a good amount of time hanging out in our bed. They would come on in the morning if we didn’t have to move too fast, especially on weekends. They might watch a little …
When I was a kid at Camp Onas many years ago, to change things up, we used to have theme weekends. The counselors would pick a movie, TV show, or an era – the 1950s or 1960s for example – and all the activities would …
I must have been traumatized as a kid. Or perhaps it was Hurricane Marilyn in 1995, which Marci and I suffered through when we lived in St. Thomas in the mid-1990s. I am extreme when it comes to preparations for a disruptive event, especially when …
When Jacob and Ariana were graduating from high school and moving away to attend college, I was contemplating my mortality. Top among my concerns was the thought that if I died, my children would no longer be able to enjoy many of the dishes they …
After several months of living in a cramped studio apartment in St. Thomas, Marci and I moved to a first floor apartment that was part of the Harmer Family’s home. It was a great improvement: much larger, a decent size kitchen, nice dining area, and …
As my wife Marci’s birthday approached a couple of weeks ago, I asked her what she wanted to do about dinner. She could choose any restaurant for a proper celebration, of course, but immediately responded that she wanted me to make a Bolognese over fresh, …
Have you ever watched a teenage boy eat? It’s amazing – and a little revolting – to see how much food they can stuff inside their body. They go to the refrigerator, stand with the door wide open, and eat whatever is in sight. As …
I had to repeatedly remind myself: half the people in the world, especially in less developed countries, cook delicious, extensive meals using a single flame, often fueled by dung. We had just moved into our house. Our refrigerator was dying, the kitchen was falling apart, …
With three young boys each separated by roughly two years, my parents always gave us chores to do. There were weekend duties, cleaning specific rooms of the house, for example, and those we did on a daily basis. Daily responsibilities primarily revolved around dinner; setting …
We woke with a start at 6:00 a.m. It was not a loud noise or rapid movement, but something more subtle. We sensed that someone was watching us. Through the fog of sleep, we saw him. Seven-year-old Dan, my wife Marci’s nephew, staring at us, …
