My otherworldly godfather played a huge part in my upbringing working as a foraging blacksmith by day and enchanting party host for the bon vivants by night. I remember evenings spent in his forge, heavy with cigar smoke and loud with various languages and laughter. People from all over the world gathered in his high-end mishmash of a kitchen, eager to taste his wild boar ragout and hear stories of the displaced Sicilian and his journey through the culinary world of San Francisco. This is where I learned to explore. Growing up, my insatiable curiosity for new cultures made me aware of my own cultural biases and raised my awareness of the value of multinational communication. This started with my Sicilian godfather indoctrinating my sister and I into the culture of his roots at a very young age.

Beautifully sculpted iron creations adorned his studio with dried chili peppers hung on every ledge, and persimmons dangled from the rafters. Watching him create such beautiful food while all the time surrounded by rust and fragments of metal reshaped my definition of a kitchen. Instead of mere food, I found art. As I got older my interests evolved from food to conversation with the wide variety of interesting guests. Adult conversations were no longer forbidden fruit and I eagerly joined discussions of art and music and beauty. In his kitchen, I was surrounded by a blur of people sprinting back and forth in a cacophony of clanging pots and languages, as different cultures converged. Watching them, I became fascinated with the nuance of human communication; it was more than just words. Seeing these people work so hard to communicate inspired me to experiment with their languages. One summer I took on Swahili. Another summer, it was Japanese. I spent two semesters of college learning Arabic. Right now I am trilingual, but in the future I know I will speak four or five or six languages. 

Over the years my repertoire has evolved to incorporate the vast set of rules, values, and beliefs distinct to different cultures. A Jamaican family friend taught me to appreciate the complexity of wine and how to pair its components with food. My French father taught me the art of storytelling and the importance of salt and imagination in all things. My delightful godfather with his sleepy eyes and his scraggly beard brought people from all backgrounds together to share and rejoice in the beauties of food. I am eager to explore what I have not yet explored, and to taste what I have not yet tasted. Living in a community so ethnically and culturally diverse not only helped me communicate better, but affirmed a deeper respect for the differences within all of our cultures. Those late nights filled with bread, citrus, and simple stories about life have shaped me in ways beyond my imagination.