For me, Sundays were holidays growing up. My mother would cook spaghetti bolognese and by cook, I mean simmer for hours. She would prepare appetizers of meats, cheeses, and bread, side dishes of fresh veggies, and a gigantic salad! Rather than snacking during the day, we would push ourselves to wait until our late "lunch". It was always worth it....mmm Thanksgiving every Sunday!

 

Looking back on my childhood there was something my mom never slacked with, food. Each and every meal my mom made was genuinely Made with Love.

 

Love was added through the time, patience, and dedication that my mom put into the meal.

 

Love was shared as we joined each other at the dinner table, laughing, crying, and spending countless hours together.

 

Love was enjoyed as we ate every last bit of spaghetti off of our plates.

 

Living in the attic, I would smell the aroma and run down two flights of stairs to see if dinner were ready. I would sit on the stairs of my kitchen and admire my mom as the sauce was simmering to perfection. When she would leave the kitchen, I would dip bread into the sauce and run back to my step while trying to hide my childish grin and lick the red sauce off my lips. Never would my mom yell at me.

 

Noone would dare to miss a Sunday meal. There were countless Sundays filled with laughter, camaraderie, and joy. Dinner brought us together as a family and still does.

 

From watching my mother cook, I knew exactly how to make sauce but it wasn't until I ventured off to college where I realized the importance of those Sundays. Each Sunday at school I would spend the time making sauce, just as my mother had made it for me. I would invite over friends to eat and it would make me extremely happy to see them enjoy my food.

 

Food with love does not only occur in my household on Sundays but at various homes, markets, and restaurants throughout the world.  As I connect with new people, I have my best experiences when entering their households and taking part in their family traditions. Food Made with Love is a culture. I instantly relate to it.  Once you have had a meal Made with Love and with people you love, you will know exactly what I am talking about.  Every time I am fortunate enough to be invited into someone elses home, I get to experience their “Sunday.”  On this journey I will be trying new foods, understanding new cultures, laughing constantly, but most importantly making new friends through Food Made with Love.

 

Thanks Mom.

When you walk through the doors of the Elamine house as a dinner guest, you are instantly engulfed in a warm, bustling, vibrant energy. You can hear the sounds of laughs and chatter, a fast-paced Spanish guitar playing in the background (compliments of the gypsy kings), my mother’s sing-along voice and the clanging of pots….possibly a bark or two from the dogs.  

 

You will (without a doubt) smell the alluring aroma of garlic and cilantro, onions and olive oil frying in a pan. You will see my brothers and sisters dicing and chopping away. My father will be pouring his “best in the world” ruby-red, Lebanese Ksara wine into hefty glasses as he tries to one-up my mother’s singing with his baratone voice, “bamboleo, bambolea…”.  

 

The king-sized oak table greeting you upon your entrance will be decorated with olives, pickles, lebneh, hummus, raddishes, baba ghanoush, and pita bread. My mother will come over to greet you with a big hug and a twinkle in her eyes. Shortly thereafter, she will put you to work, either squeezing lemons or setting the table.

 

Upon entering my family’s abode you will feel love, the kind of love that makes you feel alive and makes you feel apart of something beautiful, a part of my family.