I first started cooking at the tender young age of 12, when a friend of the family bought me a microwave cookbook for my birthday. I haven't looked back since! I'm happiest when making a mess in the kitchen, and prefer to think of recipes as inspirations rather than instructions. It doesn't always work, but thankfully I can always count on The Boy to be more than willing to eat all but my most miserable failures. Anything and everything, really. My latest inspirations are Moroccan and Persian flavours, vegetarian meals, and BBQing (yay summer!). Mom taught me some of the best things I know... I still make her versions of spaghetti sauce, pot roast, meatloaf, and so much more. (Gosh, did I just admit my mother was right about something?) I make a mean osso bucco, and my chili is nothing to sneeze at. But I think the one dish I'm proudest of is my squash and bacon carbonara. One of the hazards of being bilingual: in English, c. is the abbreviation for a cup... in French, c. is the abbreviation for a teaspoon. As I learned, the time to realise this fundamental difference in cultures is not when baking one's first ever spice cake.