Monday, September 12, 2011


My sisters and I used to love to go to the grocery store with our mother. We would follow like little disciples, contributing our wish list of meal choices for the family dinner. This was the one thing that kept us together, the family meal. I never took an interest in cooking, never needed to. My mother was gifted at the culinary arts and I just basked in her glory, sampling an array of delectable delights as the years passed. She cooked with such passion and love, we all were the recipients of this gastronomical  way of showing affection.  

When my mother was growing up, she had artistic abilities, talents that she never had the opportunity to fulfill. She could pick up a pencil and sketch a portrait, and sing like a songbird. Her mother taught her dreams were unrealistic and unattainable. Over the years those dreams were left at the wayside, replaced with children to raise and the constant need to just get through a day and survive. When my father first met my mother, her cooking skills were so lacking, she could not even boil an egg. I believe when she picked up that wooden spoon for the very first time, the artist in her was reborn; the wooden spoon was her pencil, and the food she created was her masterpiece. Her cooking would be the light that kept us from darkness during those challenging years of childhood, and I believe her culinary talent became the basis of her identity and our lives together.

As we grew into our teens, birthdays meant big meals with spaghetti and tomato sauce, and all the accompaniments that go with a  huge Italian meal. Our friends were always welcome, and there was always enough food to share with anyone who stepped on our doorstep; kindness to others always came first. We might not have had much, but there was always enough to share. Through my mother I learned it is so much more important to give than to receive. A value I believe has shaped me through the years.

I became a vegetarian and I was one for ten years, and she was always able to take family recipes  and come up with something completely  unique just for me. As the years went by I never took a liking to cooking, I was always off doing my own thing and let’ s face it; who needs to cook when you have someone always doing it for you. I could never compete nor did I wish to, that was her arena. My interests were in the arts and I was not a cook. Then the day came when I wasn’t within driving distance of my mother.  It was time I learned to cook, and I did so  with her help via the telephone . I learned all that I needed to learn and more, and I even cooked my first Thanksgiving Dinner.

Now I find myself living in California and a vegetarian once  again, a lifestyle I find enlightens my mind, body, and soul. This time it is me converting recipes and reinventing old stand-byes.  If I do say so myself the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, passion for cooking  and giving can be inherited.  I am always learning, growing, and evolving; with the reassurance that my inspirational Mother is always a phone call away to assist me when needed.

Food feeds our bellies but friendship, love and light nourishes our souls. I am honored to share both with all of you as well as all topics about the beauty being alive. Join me in my new journey through the blogosphere of life.
Rose Bruno Bailey


  1. Thanks for sharing this wonderful story of how your mother has inspired you. I am looking forward to trying to make some of your recipes. Please post soon so I can grab my wooden spoon too.
    Stay blessed

  2. Thank you Tracy, get that wooden spoon ready.

  3. An interesting and beautiful person full of delicious talent. I look forward to creating your recipes and being inspired by your daily words. Thank you for this blog!

  4. I love this picture of you and James! I love this blog!! Wonderful job Rose <3

  5. make me want to live in my kitchen! Everything looks delicious and perfect for the cool fall weather and stay in the house nights..I love the mix of good food and great reading~Thank you!