As far back as I can remember, I’ve loved to eat. Not too surprisingly, eating as much as I did was directly responsible for the nickname that my Japanese grandmother gave me – sumotori mintai. Translated, it means “little sumo”. Some of the other kids found out that my grandmother called me that, and the rest is history.
My grandmother was probably the best cook I have ever known. No one, absolutely NO ONE, ever walked from her table hungry. Even though she spoke English fairly well, she was always a little embarrassed of her accent. As such, she let her cooking express her love for her family.
That’s why I say Food Is Love.
I’ve been cooking since I was a teenager. Way back in junior high school, while my buddies were all signing up for wood shop, Sumo was rocking the home economics class. Mostly for the cooking, but I’d be lying if I said the fact that 90% of the class was girls didn’t factor into that decision.
People keep asking me when I’m going to open a restaurant. The short answer is, never. Would I like to own my own eatery? Sure, but knowing how my mind works, eventually I’d come to hate cooking, and I don’t want that to happen.
Also, I don’t think a restaurant based on my culinary experiments would be successful – I don’t really have a genre. I’ll cook Italian, French, Spanish, Japanese, Chinese, Thai, whatever. If I think something sounds tasty, I’ll give it a shot.
I also have some issues with the whole “presentation” angle. I care more about how food tastes than I do how it looks.
So, I have only one option left – this blog. I can share my culinary meanderings, enjoy my favorite hobby, and not get the urge to punch a pretentious jackass in the throat.
The author accepts no responsibility for any weight gain that may result from consumption of any of the recipes contained herein.