Some of you have heard me talk about my courtyard in Busoler, but for those who have not, let me tell you a little about it:
Busoler was a small town then made up of only thirty houses along one white stone road. At the center was the courtyard where my maternal grandparents lived. I would go to Busoler as often as I could—every weekend, every holiday and the first eleven birthdays of my life.
My grandparents grew, raised, produced, vinified, and milled everything they needed to survive and bartered any excess for items that they did not have. Little did I know, the pristine flavors, the unadulterated aromas of nature, and the simple country cooking of my grandmother and great aunt would set the tone for my future career. This is where my collection of taste is rooted, and these are the flavors I am always striving to recreate in my cooking.