And we're off...

...and running?  Eek, I'm starting a blog.  Deep breath.  Here we go. 

I'm obsessed with food.  Yep, I admit it.  I was trying to think when the obsession started.  My mother would say it was when the dark, green mess of creamed spinach crossed my cheeks while sitting in the highchair.  She might even say that it was when I wouldn't cry for candy in the store like the other children. No, I yearned and longed for marinated artichoke hearts and kalamata olives.  I'm only half Greek, but obviously we know where the bloodline is saturated the most.  Maybe it was when my Greek immigrant grandmother (my Ya Ya) owned a restaurant business for 50 years.  (Yes, I know, shocking that a Greek immigrant would own a restaurant.)  I would look forward to going behind the counter and cleaning the water glasses, or lugging the gallons of salad dressing up from the basement and into the kitchen.  I was allowed to go into the kitchen.  I would watch the other Greek immigrant, Jimmy, skinny as a rail, chop and make concoctions that were to be the specials of the day.  If I close my eyes long enough,  I can smell that kitchen;  spotless, scented with garlic and olive oil, and the banter between chefs, dishwashers and servers.  I could ultimately make this blog about my grandmother.  I miss her everyday.  You will see her pop up often, as many of my food memories are with her and surround her.  You will meet my mother, hear about my Dad, his mother, my brother and all of the people that have made my obsession what it is today. 

I am not a writer.  I'm a "wannabe" of many things. I am in awe of the many blogs on cooking and eating that I follow and wonder, if in my small insecure way, I can live up to what they have brought to the world of blogging.  However, my passion lies within my memories that I have brought to every kitchen I have lived in.  Whether the kitchens of jobs I have held in Lake Placid, Henderson Harbor, or my own kitchens as an adult in apartments or a house.  The smells, the sounds, have permeated my nose, and seeped their way into my brain permanently.  Not such a bad thing, if you think about it. 

This is also a place for you.  If anyone finds me...if anyone is out there in this thing we call "cyberspace".  (Wait, do they still call it that?)  Today it would be nice to hear where your memories began. 
Share recipes.  Share memories from then...and now.  Even yesterday. 

Today I start with many thoughts to follow.  Right now all I hear is, "Thees ees so deleeceous", while her pinky is raised holding a piece of bread ,and dipping it into the tomato sauce of the Fasolakia she is eating. That would be my grandmother. 

Enjoy.
Kathy

Fasolakia (Green beans in oil)

3 lbs. of fresh green beans
1 1/2 cups of olive oil (I only use a little over a 1/2-3/4 cup)
2 medium onions, minced
1 1/2 pounds ripe tomatoes peeled and strained (feel free to use canned.  I like to use tomator puree sometimes)
Parsley
Salt and Pepper to taste
Water as needed

Wash the beans and cut them in half.  Heat the oil in a large heavy bottomed pot and saute the onions in it until soft and limp;  add the tomatoes, and bring to a biol.  Add the beans.  Add the parsley, salt, pepper and enough water to barely cover the beans.  Cook over medium heat until the liquid is absorbed but the oil remains.  Serves 6
* This will be like a stewed bean.  I like to keep mine simmering on the stove for more than an hour.  Great alone, and served with crusty bread, or accompanying your favorite meal.