A Tribute to My Mother

I had a blessed childhood.

I was blessed (not the least of which) by education, safety, health, and love.  But the one blessing I am paying tribute to today is my palate.  Thanks to my mom, I wasn't raised on Mac and Cheese, but Triple Cream Brie.  I wasn't raised on over cooked vegetables that lacked flavor, but roasted vegetables with extra virgin olive oil and a pinch of salt and pepper.  And I wasn't raised on Jell-O, but on homemade pies and cakes.

Last night I was able to indulge in a dinner to write home about.  Paper thin slices of age-dried Jammon; roasted eggplant and zucchini stacked with mozzarella and sun-dried tomatoes; and the piece-d-resistance a personal serving of Foie Gras and simple toast.  All accompanied by a crisp wine, great service and ambiance. 

As I sat there relishing every bite, and living the dream, it was all I could do but text my mother and thank her for how she raised me: to appreciate the good life, and things that come with it; to have the manners not to be intimidated by fine dining; have the palate that appreciates good food done simply;  and to work hard to be able to eat these lavish dinners.  Thank you, thank you, thank you, a thousand times over, thank you mom.

PS - much to my mother's chagrin, I still enjoy triple cream brie, but sometimes there is no substitute for Mac and Cheese, neon in color, out of a box. ;)