Eat, Darling, Eat 

(by Helene Henderson) My mother was a blond, blue-eyed traditional Swedish beauty. I was her very opposite genetic offspring: tall,...

(by Pam Koner) My earliest memory is the smell of garlic mingled with dishwashing soap on soft hands holding me in the kitchen, sitting...

(by Thea Habjanic) Just a salad and pancakes. Or palačinke as they were called in Slovene. That was our go-to dinner, my mom and I, when...

(by Anie Hart) I’ve always had a rather distant relationship to food, perhaps because I never learned anything about nutrition as a...

(by Natalka Burian) (me, Bapcha Dorosz, and Mom) My mother is an intrepid and fascinating woman in nearly every area of her life, but not...

(by Bri and Aleya Howington) Our grandmother grew up in the Philippines before marrying and moving to the United States with our mother....

(by Neema Avashia) On my annual pilgrimage to Tudor’s Biscuit World—undoubtedly one of the Seven (Culinary) Wonders of the World for West...

(by Dunya Ahrns) It’s an interesting juxtaposition, being fully of one culture while, simultaneously, fully of another. I am thoroughly...

(by Maggie Robertson) Growing up in the political chaos of Argentina (the reign of Juan and Eva Perón meant censorship, demagoguery, and...

(by Olive Ho) When I visit my family in Hong Kong, my mother sometimes puts Chinese ingredients—dried scallops, exotic mushrooms—in my...

(by Maha Rouchati) (My mom, my sister Chada, and me) Moroccan cuisine is a sort of religion. It contains a moral code, a specific and...

(by Vanessa Woy) My mother was, and always will be, a vision of long legs, tiny torso, and head of ashy blond hair that spills down her...

(by Margaret Crane) My siblings and I were not allowed in my mother's kitchen, except to clean up her messes. She carefully checked the...

(by Barbara Ballinger) My mother taught me almost everything I needed to know to throw a successful dinner party. Guests often filled our...

(by Liz Susman Karp) I used a fork to mix milk and egg together in a rimmed soup bowl, recklessly dotting the liquid with vanilla extract...

(by Amy Silverstein) (Sister Jodie, stepmother Beverly, and me) The kitchen that grew me up was not a warm place of happiness and love....

(by Jane Bernstein) (I'm the wiggly youngest one.) I think my mother loved to cook, but she never said so, and if I’d asked when she was...

(by Eva Zelig) I am the product of two cultures: that of my parents who abandoned a comfortable life to escape the rising holocaust in...

(by Christi Clancy) It’s not that my mother didn’t want to prepare meals, but meal prep required time she didn’t have. She was a single...

(by Joan M. Harper) My mother was born just before the Great Depression in a modest home in Medford, Massachusetts. It was a happy family...