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What My Nana Taught Me

The old adage that things skip a generation can apply to something different in every family – twins etc. In my family it was definitely cooking.

Neither my Mom nor my Aunt, despite having mothers that were great cooks, had much interest or aptitude in the culinary arts. Growing up in New York, this was not a huge problem as there were a multitude of restaurants to eat at or take out from most nights of the week. And eating a smattering of Italian, Japanese, Indian, Mexican, and many other cuisines on a weekly basis certainly opened my horizons and palate from an early age. But in terms of cooking talent and inspiration in my childhood, that certainly came from my Nana.

Nana’s given name was Eleanor Isobel, but she had decided early on that the Eleanor didn’t suit her and had swapped them. She never legally changed her name, but somehow through sheer will and insistence over the years she had even convinced the U.S. Government of the fact, and by the time I was born she was called Isobel on every government I.D. and legal document.

Although Nana was American, she was born to Scottish parents who had immigrated to New York with their young daughters in the 1920s. Her parents hailed from Glasgow (“Which was why they left,” as Nana always said) and there was always an element of Scottishness to her personality, her cooking, and even to her accent after a few glasses of wine. New Years was always the best for that – after all the champagne and some celebratory whisky, her accent was in full force for the singing of Auld Lang Syne.

On the surface, she wasn’t necessarily what you would picture when you think of the stereotypical kindly, soft-cheeked grandmother baking cookies for her grandchildren. Nana weighed scarcely 90 pounds, always had her hair done, and generally preferred a glass of chardonnay and a cigarette in the evenings to baking cookies. But appearances can be deceiving, and she was a great cook and the most amazing grandmother. My grandfather worked in the oil/energy industry and before working and retiring to Washington DC, he and Nana had moved over 30 times, lived overseas for years, mostly in London, and had travelled the world with four children in tow. Nana had the best stories, always told nonchalantly, and nothing ever really phased her.

She never forgot what it was like to be young, and by the time her children and grandchildren were teenagers she treated us as individuals, not as children. She even encouraged our little teenage rebellions, in her way.

I’ll never forget one Christmas morning at her house, while we are all sitting around opening presents and having coffee. Nana suddenly looked over at the table next to her, picked up the heavy ashtray, made of a bronzed lion’s paw print she had gotten in Africa, and handed it to my 15 year old brother saying “Merry Christmas.”  She knew that my brother smoked (and that my dad hated it) but she also knew he was going to do it regardless of anyone’s approval, so he might as well have a cool ashtray.

Even my uncle, now nearly 40 years later, has a teenage memento from Nana. While he was in high school in London, he had been dared by some friends to steal the wooden sign from outside their favorite pub. Having gone to accomplish this deed, he found a dilemma in that the sign was too big to fit inside of his tiny car. His solution was to call his mother. And after telling her the situation, Nana was very understanding of the importance of teenage pacts, she came to pick him and the wooden sign up and act as his pseudo getaway driver.

Having had Lyme disease in my teenage years, I didn’t get up to many acts of rebellion.  Apart from school, I spent much of my free time in the kitchen. I learned many of my greatest lessons about cooking, entertaining, and just life in general from Nana in those years. Nana had entertained many friends for years in many different cities and countries. The bulk of the entertaining she did was probably in the old Victorian house in Hampstead they lived in during the 1970s and 1980s. Cooking from a very tiny kitchen, she hosted dinners for 20 people somehow, including a big Thanksgiving party every year.

When I would ask her what she had made for most of these dinners, she might recall a roast here, or a dessert there but a lot of the dinner menus had blended together over time. Overall, she said that the food didn’t really matter – she had her few favorite dishes, and their variations, of course- but what she really remembered was the company and whether everyone had fun.

And therein lies the greatest wisdom when it comes to entertaining: the food is important but not nearly as much as the people you enjoy it with. Which will you have lasting memories of in forty years?

That doesn’t mean I advocate not caring about the food – quite the opposite – but realizing that at the end of the day it doesn’t matter whether you tried to make sole meuniere or did a simple roasted chicken, the experience is the lasting impression.  And that really takes a huge amount of pressure off. Why stress getting every detail perfect when that isn’t what anyone is going to remember?

Entertaining seems sort of old fashioned these days. Particularly in New York, it is so common to eat out or order in nearly every night (and afternoon) of the week. But I truly feel that it is due for a comeback.

For my generation, millenials if you will, they often seem not to know how to cook or not to have the time for it. And why bother with the hassle of grocery shopping, cooking and then cleaning, when you can simply press a few buttons on your phone, and through the ever-increasing number of delivery apps have every restaurant in the city literally at your fingertips?

It’s a tempting proposition and one even I, a chef, have fallen into the habit of using after a long day. But despite how convenient it may be, there is always something dissatisfying about the experience. The food is never as good as it is in the restaurant, it is often cold, and sometimes can take hours to arrive. It makes eating into purely a function rather than an experience to be savored.  Eating has historically been a communal activity, and in giving that aspect of it up, we lose something much more important.

Eating by yourself on the couch, even eating sitting next to someone wordlessly, watching tv, on that same couch while having delivered food out of plastic containers is a lonely, clinical experience. In the midst of all of this easy delivery, our kitchens become ghost towns – glorified garbage centers and water fountains.

Entertaining, even if it is just for a friend or two, immediately brings life to the kitchen and throughout the whole home.

In my family, the kitchen has always been center of the house, no matter whose house we are at. It is the hub where everyone gathers to talk, snack, listen to music, and sometimes to cook. And when you create that environment – a lively kitchen with food cooking, people talking, snacking and helping, it becomes so immersive and interactive that everyone becomes unglued from their phones for the moment.

I think people often shy away from entertaining because it can be intimidating. They don’t know what to make, who to invite, or are worried it wont be any good. And I want to share the most lasting and important lessons I learned from my grandmother, to make the experience as easy and stress-free as possible.  So much of it comes down to planning and feeling comfortable in what you are making.

Find a repertoire that works for you and stick to it. 

A lot of my grandmother’s dinners that she would entertain with were either roasts or stews.   And that is another lesson that I would advocate.  Particularly when cooking for more than four people, it is much easier to have your protein dish and meal centerpiece be a single cut of meat that serves everyone and can be thrown into the oven with minimal guidance.  Or a braised or stewed dish, like shortrib or beef bouguignon that can be made even a day ahead- and taste even better- and simply warm up in the oven while you get ready for guests to arrive.  Finding a repertoire that you are comfortable with, and one where you don’t overextend yourself, is key.  What is the point when you are stressed and stuck slaving away in the kitchen and unable to relax and have fun with your guests?

Probably the most important thing I learned about cooking from Nana was to feel comfortable in the kitchen, and to not be afraid to make mistakes.  We all make mistakes cooking sometimes! Some of my most memorable kitchen experiences are the blunders.  And you know what, those are some of my favorite memories because they are so absurd and hilarious looking back at them.  After all, what is the worst that could happen? Everything is a disaster? No one likes your food? That’s literally the worst case scenario.  And that isn’t something to be afraid of.  As hard as it may seem, you really shouldn’t care if someone doesn’t like your food.  Don’t be offended or take it personally.  Everyone has different tastes and some things are just not for some people.  Don’t let that stop you from making the foods you like and enjoy.

The other major lessons were really about practicality and logistics- equally important pieces to remove as much of the burdens as possible from the equation.

Some things are worth making, buy the rest. 

Not every single thing has to be made from scratch.  There are so many high quality products out there that can take such a weight off of your shoulders.  Whether its simply buying cheese, crackers, and grapes and having a cheese plate as an appetizer, or using storebought ice cream with an easy roasted fruit for dessert, definitely take some short cuts.  Will anyone ever know or care that you used pre grated carrots in your carrot cake or that the mushrooms were pre sliced?

Roast or stew

Don’t try and master some crazy new dish, or make perfectly cooked sea bass for ten people.

Don’t be afraid to make mistakes

They can always be rectified – normally by a quick Google search if you’re not au fait with culinary tricks.

Open a bottle of wine and enjoy yourself

Let the tension melt away after you’re over the biggest cooking hurdles of the evening. If you’re relaxed and having fun, your guests will follow suit.

Try not to spread out your workspace all over the kitchen

My grandmother learned this from cooking in a very small, very old kitchen in her Victorian house in Hampstead in the 70s. Somehow she managed to entertain from there.

If the meal is for more than 10 people, get help for the cleaning.

Whether that means you hire someone to clean, or simply confirm beforehand with a couple of friends or family that are coming, that they are cool with helping to clean up.  Most people are! But often when cooking a dinner and hosting, we feel like we have to do everything and that is what leads to being overwhelmed. After you’ve cooked for double-digits worth of people, the last thing you want to do is clean all the dishes they’ve produced. Knowing before you are faced with the aftermath that you have some help makes the situation so much more manageable and takes a huge, dreaded weight, off of your mind.

After years of feeding four children and numerous guests on a regular basis, cooking had become a job for her. And when my grandfather retired, and so did the entertaining that accompanied his job, Nana took a retirement of her own, one from cooking. That’s not to say she never cooked, simply that the daily drudgery of it was no longer a part of her life. I think it made her cooking even more special in its way. As a child, I always knew that whatever Nana was making, it was going to be good and was excited to eat it, whatever it might be. Even the least appetizing dish became a must-try because Nana made it.

One of the recipes that reminds me of her the most, is Lamb Barley Soup. Hardly glamorous, and definitely Scottish, it was the most warming and delicious winter soup that I still get cravings for. After making a roast leg of lamb for either Christmas or Easter, Nana would use the leftover bones and meat to make this soup.  Sadly after going gluten-free, I had to give up barley. But I’ve found that using either buckwheat in its place, or an interesting Chinese grain called Job’s tears, gives the same toothsome, nutty bite to this perfect winter dish.

I always loved to watch my grandmother in the kitchen.  There was an ease of movement and air of complete comfort that I had never seen before. With my Mom, there was always a hint of unease in the air; pans clattered, things got burnt and new recipes felt more like unsuccessful experiments than special treats. Even my own fledgling forays in baking and cooking, which I loved and which gave me such a sense of satisfaction, were also accompanied by a trail of dirty dishes and an undercurrent of stress- I was always apprehensive that something would go wrong.

Nana made everything seem effortless, something that now after attending culinary school and cooking professionally I recognize as, in its way, the highest level of skill and one I still struggle to attain. All the things I had been taught in culinary school – clean as you go, don’t waste food, move quickly, keep a small and tidy workspace – came naturally from her: she had learnt all these lessons I tried to absorb in six months over decades of practice.

As much as I loved staying with my grandparents at their house in DC, watching Nana cook with her well-worn Le Creuset pans, drinking tea in the garden on her English China, my favorite times spent with her in the kitchen were when she would come and stay with us in Connecticut. Perhaps somewhat perversely, as children my cousins and I always looked forward to our parents going away because that meant that our grandparents would come to take care of us, and that Nana would cook for us.

Unlike with my parents, Nana didn’t particularly care what we had for dinner, or whether we finished our plates and ate our veggies. Whether we ate what she made, or wanted breakfast for dinner – and dessert on top of that – she was completely un-phased and as long as no one complained or went to bed hungry, we could eat what we liked. This sort of culinary freedom and indulgence- coupled with Nana’s great food- was exhilarating as a child.

As I got older and started cooking on my own, I loved having Nana stay just so that I could watch her in the kitchen. It was amazing to me how her presence seemed to transform the very same normally hectic kitchen into a serene environment, one where food calmly emerged, with no mess of piled up pans or other evidence of chaos to be found.

I’ll always remember one time, when I was about 13 or 14, and my parents were away and Nana was looking after us in Connecticut. It was just an ordinary week, but one day after school Nana decided to make apple pie. It was Autumn, we had lots of apples, so why not? It may sound simple, but this sort of impromptu pie-making was unprecedented in my family. My Mom, and sometimes even my Dad, would make homemade apple pies, but only a couple times a year for Thanksgiving or Christmas. And even the infrequent making of these pies was fraught with difficulty and disaster. Like the time my Dad made one, but forgot the sugar rendering it inedibly tart. Or the time the foil covering the outside edge of the crust fell off onto the bottom of the oven, caught on fire, and infused the entire pie (and kitchen) with its putrid smoke. Or the time the perfect, beautifully baked pie was dropped and smashed onto the floor while being taken out of the oven. Apple pie was a serious and risky dessert only for special occasions and one that involved lots of preparation, grocery shopping, and plenty of dirtied dishes. It seemed to me then that it was the opposite of a dish you spontaneously decide to make on a Wednesday afternoon.

Yet watching Nana make that pie, it seemed like the most simple thing in the world. No trip to the grocery store, no fuss, and virtually no equipment needed. Rather than sullying a peeler, bowl, cutting board, and whatever other ancillary equipment I had thought was necessary, Nana simply used a paring knife. Both for peeling the apples and then deftly cutting them into thin slices straight into the pie crust. I remember being almost in awe of the simplicity of it and of how adroitly her fingers moved with the knife and each apple. I asked her how she could possibly peel and slice them like that and not cut herself. Knives were still a bit scary for me then. And she answered, “Well, I’ve had 40 years of practice. Someday it will be just as easy for you”. Those words have always stuck with me – cooking is largely a matter of practice and of trial and error. The more you do it, the better you get.  And despite there being endless numbers of trendy, exotic, and seemingly complicated dishes, the most simple of foods are often the best and are in anyone’s reach. To this day, apple pie is one of my favorite desserts to make for my family and for the holidays. And even those times when the crust rips and doesn’t come out perfectly, I still feel a sense of calm as I patch it up. It doesn’t matter after all. It’s just apple pie.

I’d love to hear who or what inspires your cooking – tweet me and tell me your stories.


My Top Tips For Throwing The Perfect Party

My top tips for throwing a party – whether that’s 8 people or 18 – is all about getting your guests to get involved and keeping things SIMPLE.


Bring a bottle

You don’t need to be making gin and tonic with a twist for 20 – if your guests bring a bottle, as most people always do, the law of parties means that you will always end up with pretty much as many bottles as you served in the first place.

Make a communal cocktail

If you really want to pop something on the table to water your guests, try making a punch that everyone can help add to as they arrive. Tell them it’s a lucky punch so they just need to bring a dark or a white spirit and fruit juice.

If you are house proud then just enforce the bubbles only rule – whether its Prosecco or champagne – keep it bubbly (maybe with a touch of cordial to add in to glasses) and I promise everyone will be happy!

For the non-alcoholic option I always serve elderflower cordial with mineral water, loads of ice and lots of mint. Its so fresh, it will make every party go off with a zing in its step – even a tee-total one!

Fabulous florals

Setting the table, terrace/garden or your living room for a
 party is a magical way to get the mood just right. Fresh flowers – either from
 a florist or just picked from the garden in a small jar – are a fabulous way to make things sing for an event.

Fresh flowers are ideal from Spring to Summer but equally bare twigs, 
fresh rosemary, branches and pine cones dressed with a bit of sparkle are great to use from October onwards through all those dark winter months.

Mix and match

You don’t need matching cutlery or tableware – you can pick up some beautiful platters and bowls from flea markets for next to nothing. Stash them away in a cupboard and then pull them out for your party and hey presto – you will look like a prop stylist has popped into set your whole event up.

Luscious linens

If you use linens then take the time to iron them – its so simple but it makes guests know you care – I would rather have a paper napkin any day than some creased old bit of cloth sitting on my lap.

Keep everyone watered

Make sure you have enough chairs, and enough glasses and lots of bottles of water on the go at all times – no-one wants to have to clear up the drunk at the end of the night!


Don’t let throwing a bigger dinner or event become a headache
. And remember: you are the host. Your guests will look to you for the lead – if you aren’t having fun and socializing with everyone, then how can they? If the host or hostess is having fun, so will your guests. I guarantee the party will always go with a swing.

Do you have a top tip for hosting parties? Tweet them to me!

Parties? What’s NOT to love?

Cooking and eating with your nearest and dearest ones is truly the best and most real way to connect socially.

It’s something that’s written into our human DNA. Eating has always historically been a communal activity in every society – when those grizzly hunters back in the dark ages had gathered all they could, they would of course all come back to the fire for a get together over a lump of (very) chargrilled meat!

Only in the last 15 years or so has eating become such a solitary activity and one completely divorced from the actual act of preparing food. Everyone is using Apps to dine to such an extent that the very thing that was meant to free us is now keeping us captive… and taking our kitchens hostage at the same time! I want us to all to say enough – and to claim back our ovens and go back the way we used to eat – at a dinner table with friends and family (and cutlery and plates…call me old fashioned!) with food, created with love in our own once abandoned kitchens.

Part of the beauty of cooking is that is forces us to slow down. You can’t rush roasting a chicken – unless you want to risk salmonella – it simply takes as long as it takes. Learning to accept and enjoy that natural, slower pace, so different from the instant gratification we expect in the iPhone age – its so healthy for our minds, as well as our bodies and our souls. There is a deep satisfaction that comes from the food we make ourselves and serve to others, and that feeling isn’t something you can order on any old app!

When you cook your own dinner you know exactly what is going into it – there is no secret pot of MSG hiding in your cupboard – you know how much salt and how much sugar you use. Cooking is all about taking control back over our diets and our lives in general and removes so much of the anxiety attached to our food choices. It is much easier to discover the foods that make us feel good – as well as the ones that don’t – when we are more connected to cooking them. I know it’s a cliché, but finding the correct diet for you is all about getting the right balance – and that starts with re-introducing yourself to your kitchen.

The answer to so many of modern life’s problems really comes from the inside out – and changing your what and how you eat can truly transform your life. Eating amazing food offers us the ultimate party to which we can invite all our friends and our family – and of course, the most important person, our self.

The trouble with Lyme disease…

I caught Lyme disease when I was ten years old.

My family had just moved from Upper East Side in New York City to a small town in the heart of Connecticut – one that was bucolic and picturesque, but within whose dappled woods and nature preserve, lay a hidden epidemic of ticks.

There is so much debate about Lyme disease, whether in the media or even amongst doctors. No one can seem to agree on what treatments are best, for what length of time, or even whether Chronic Lyme disease even exists. I can only speak from my own experience with Lyme Disease – I got very sick and for a very long time.

How I caught Lyme disease

Lyme disease is caught from ticks – a very nasty little thing called a spirochete, a type of bacterium that can affect any organ of the body. That tiny little monster caused me a huge amount of pain for almost a decade of my life as a child.

I caught Lyme at ten, was finally diagnosed at eleven, and didn’t really re-join the world as a “healthy” individual until I was eighteen.

Lyme disease symptoms and treatment

Most people get a bull’s-eye rash when they get bitten: a clear sign of Lyme that makes it easy to catch early and treat successfully with a short course of antibiotics.

But if like me, it goes undetected and untreated, the results will be deep and long lasting. I began with the traditional antibiotics, but when we realized they were not working and my migraines, fatigue, and muscular pain was getting worse, I missed increasingly more school and saw increasingly more doctors as my poor parents tried desperately to seek a cure.

Trying the strongest antibiotic treatment possible, I had an IV inserted and underwent daily IV antibiotics for 6 months. The treatments were exhausting and unfortunately, unsuccessful, and having an IV made having any sort of normal life pretty impossible. I missed so much school that I had to be homeschooled with a tutor and was unable to continue any of my favorite activities, like gymnastics or tennis.

Unfortunately, the IV and traditional treatments weren’t helping and I was taken completely out of school to undergo hyperbaric oxygen therapy for six months. That means for an hour every day, somewhere deep in the Berkshires in Massachusetts, I would sit in a chamber that would simulate the high pressure environment of well below sea level and I would be pumped full of oxygen.  This is normally something done by super athletes, scuba divers with the bends or firemen suffering from severe smoke inhalation …I was a fifteen year old kid. It was definitely one of the more surreal experiences of my life to say the least.

Discovering cooking

The one light in this dark period was that in spending so much time sick at home with none of my usual hobbies, I discovered my new hobby – cooking. It started with watching the Food Network every day and turned into being inspired to try and recreate these delicious recipes on my own.

While I didn’t have the energy for athletic endeavors any more, I found that on my good days I was up to baking a cake or even cooking a chicken dish for dinner. Cooking, especially baking, became my favorite distraction from the daily realities of Lyme disease and gave me a sense of satisfaction, of accomplishment on days that I wasn’t able to do much else.

Going gluten-free

Eventually I went to see a Lyme disease doctor who also practiced Naturopathic therapy. It was he that suggested going gluten-free, along with prescribing weekly antibiotic injections (again) and a fully sugar-free diet to boot, pretty much eliminating everything I wanted to eat as teenager and crippling my hobby of baking.

Back then, following a gluten-free diet was not easy. There were very few GF brands like there are now and no Whole Foods that stocked GF foods or ingredients. I remember making the same batch of gluten-free and sugar-free brownies over and over, because there was nothing else I could find to make. But I stuck to it and after about six months, started to feel better.

Being an impatient and shortsighted teenager, once I started to feel better, I figured I could lapse back to my “normal” diet and stop being so restrictive. Which led to another return of symptoms. Luckily, at this point, I had finally found the right mixture of medicines that worked for me and was on a program of antibiotics that would lead to finally being cured of Lyme Disease. So despite returning to eating gluten and sugar, I felt better.

It would take the better part of another decade for my health to again deteriorate so badly that I was forced to completely eliminate gluten from my diet. But despite my return to a “normal” diet for so many years, that first brush with gluten-free eating and the effect it had on my health taught me a lesson that I always have carried with me. It planted the seed for my later interest in the relationship between diet and overall health that is one of my passions to this day.

As my diet changed so did my health, and ultimately my relationship with food.  Even though being sick for so long was definitely not an ideal adolescence, in the midst of my worst times I discovered my passion for cooking, which is something I will always be grateful for.

I know that many people come to a gluten-free diet because of illness, seeking some relief, whether that is celiac, Lyme disease, arthritis, or any of the many many other autoimmune diseases that are so crippling.  I hope that my journey might inspire you. Things will get better; I am testament to that very fact!