When I was growing up, the Childhood BFF and I were inseparable. We met in preschool, and soon enough I was taking weekend refuge at her house–the home of an only child…
Author: emiglia
Mom’s Roast Chicken
When I was in high school, one of my best friends, the Violist, had an ongoing struggle with artichokes. She loved them, and whenever they featured on a menu, she wanted to…
La question de demenagement
In 2003, I flew to France for a week, and when I came back, it was 2004. It happens every year–this year, New Years was spent gorging on grapes (a Spanish tradition)…
On a scale of one to ten…
Growing up, this was my father’s favorite phrase. “On a scale of one to ten, how do you think you did on that test?” “On a scale of one to ten, how…
Spring Has Sprung
I tend not to do things the way I was supposed to. You’re supposed to stay at home for high school; I went away. You’re supposed to go to college and live…
Ceci n’est pas un bol de pâtes…
For those of you who have forgotten your French/took Spanish/don’t know about the juxtapositional Magritte painting, what I’ve written above translates to, “This is not a bowl of pasta.” And it’s not….
Kale Chips
Like most people, I think, I don’t cook just for me. Don’t get me wrong–I love being in the kitchen. Case-in-point: my mother has been off gallavanting with my little sister in…
Chana Masala Chutney and Dal
“The grass is always greener on the other side.” There’s a reason that clichés are cliché: thoughts so true have to be expressed, often too often, until suddenly the metaphor or simile…
Homesick
“You know that point in your life when you realize the house you grew up in isn’t really your home anymore? All of a sudden even though you have some place where…
Almost-Spring
Almost-Spring is in the air. If you’ve lived in cold-weather climates (I’m looking at you Canadians… and you, too, New-Englanders), then you know what I’m talking about: it’s not warm–far from it….