Everybody thinks being the son of a caterer means that our family dinners were spectacular Michelin star meals.  Don't get me wrong, they were delicious, but more often than not they were delicious leftovers from the bar-mitzvah or wedding the previous weekend.  

The leftovers I grew to love became, in part, my compensation during my tenure as Cleveland's most notorious children's bartender.  As a 17 year old, I was proud that the 13 year old community respected my Shirley Temples.

After college, I moved to NYC where my true passion for all things food related began to consume my life.

I spent endless hours reading restaurant reviews, researching different cooking techniques and exotic foods, and most importantly always had the television on in the background tuned into the Food Network...more recently the Cooking Channel.

Every once in a while, a friend or family member would remark that with food in my DNA from my mom, and in my brain through what I'll call "television osmosis," it's a wonder that I haven't contributed back to the food community in any positive or meaningful way.

Welcome to my attempt.