Once I put myself out to the world as a "pro cook" for my business and videos, I naturally started getting a lot of questions about my culinary influences.

I was lucky enough to have two living grandmas while I was growing up. I never met my grandfathers as they both died before I was born. Grandma Lucy and Grandma Beau lived for most of my preteen and teen years about a block and a half apart from each other in my hometown of Chisholm on the Minnesota Iron Range. Other than being called "Grandma", they had nothing in common.

Grandma Lucy (Spada /Bonicelli) came from Northern Italy, owned and operated the "Progressive" shoe shop, and was a seamstress. She was a devout Catholic and a cooked like the Italian she was. She made her own pasta, savored fruits and vegetables, often prepared my father his favorite foods, and made her grandchildren and great grandchildren love gnocchi and ravioli because hers was fantastic and she only made it for special occasions. She had a handshake that could impress a wrestler and a stride in her walk that was unforgettable. She preferred walking to riding in the car.

Grandma Beau (her last name was Beaumont) came from the east, specifically Baltimore. To my knowledge she never worked, but had a deep love of Marshall Fields - so I always viewed her as well off. She only cooked a few "specialty" dishes and exclusively used the "high" setting on the stove. Things would get burned, but at least they got done quickly. My mother inherited her cooking skills (I'm not telling tales out of school - Mom considered my father to be the family "cook" and her skill was making pies and potica). I, my sisters, and our daughters inherited Grandma Beau's deep love of department stores.

I remember staying over at Grandma Lucy's often. I learned to sew and make pasta and her house always smelled great like a mixture of powdered Tide and drying pasta. She had a treadle sewing machine. It took me years of hand sewing to earn the honor of sewing on that machine. She always told me I was a better seamstress than she was. This was the only lie I could ever accuse her of telling. I loved pretty much every food she made. Every once in a while, a bag of snails would show up from Italy. The kids were allowed to play with them for a while, which was actually much more entertaining than you'd think, and then they'd disappear. I never dreamed that the turtle shell hanging in her shop storeroom may have belonged to last week's soup.

Staying with Grandma Beau (only a block and a half away) was a totally different adventure. We'd usually take a walk downtown (also a block and a half away) to go shopping. Shopping typically involved something for Barbie from the dime store, blueberry pie with ice cream, and Russell Stover candies. For Grandma Beau, getting herself ready to go was a much longer process than the actual trip. She'd start with the clothing selection followed by bathing, powder, perfume, a girdle, a rather complicated bra contraption, dressing, more perfume, and then finally a whole lot of jewelry and the proper pocketbook. Then we were off! Dinner was one of three things.... baloney (yes, it had a first name) cut in squares with maple syrup, canned ravioli (made by a chef with an Italian last name) , or corn fritters (made from scratch) - also with maple syrup. She always said "I eat to live - not live to eat". True!

So, about my culinary influences, while I certainly credit the culinary diversity of the Iron Range, traveling, producing food photography, and just pure obsession with a lot of it, I spent much time with my grandmothers. Even though my Grandma Lucy was a great cook, food was a very big part of my experience with my Grandma Beau in a very different but equally memorable and positive way. Maybe I learned what not to do, but as a kid I thought it all was just fine. As for the image for this blog post, I had a tough choice between Baloney and Maple Syrup and Pasta and yes - I was a plump child!

Buon Appetito!