A bit of bio, and details, to help you know me.
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Check out the apron. Yes, that's me. The squirt in the middle, pausing to consume my milk before our culinary adventure gets started. Sure the apron is handmade, and obviously designed to show off my fabulous shoulders. Yet, there is more to this photo than ill fitting accoutrements, or glass milk bottles; charming though they may be. The most important part of this photo is my mom, who is front and center in my stove-side memories, and sporting a really cute apron of her own. I feature her here because she is the one that helped me find joy in the kitchen and in setting a table of love for others. Thank you, mom! |
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 Camine and Ron Pappas.
Ron and I found home, here in the Carolinas in 2004. It's simply one of the most diverse and beautiful places I've ever lived. The people are open and eager to share friendships. The land is green and moist emitting a kind of warm and pungent pheromone from deep inside the trees and river bottoms, communicating a welcome like no other. Because my ancestors reached the Americas by way of Charleston the south is all the more precious to me. I grew up eating my grandma's black eyes peas, ham and beans, and skillet fried cornbread. Why wouldn't I blossom in a place where food is love?
Why has cooking emerged as one of my most ardent passions? From the beginning I have always been creative. Music, drawing, writing, designing and now cooking have all consumed me in some form or another. But the cooking seems to ignite all my talents. The best part? Cooking also allows me to entertain. For me heaven would be a giant table of friends around it all the time and I'm making food for all of them. Laughing, sipping, devouring and even comparing a few celestial recipes. What could be better! During the day I spend my time creating graphic design for my own business, C and Company. As a Brand Therapist and Designer I have worked as a Graphic Artist, Writer and Consultant for over 20 years. So, if you knock on my door in the morning, just come downstairs and join me for coffee. For only the computer feels the creative call of my urges at that time of day. Come after 5? Ah, that's the best time. Join me and we will cook and laugh together. |
In 1994, after logging years of comfort in the kitchen, I began watching the Food Network and discovered that cooking was even more multifaceted than I had ever imagined. I marveled at the way a chef bent slightly over his plate, fingers moving quickly to scatter toasted seeds astride a towering monument of colorful veggies, or to sprinkle confectioners sugar atop transparent ribbons of candied lemon peel. This wasn't someone slaving over a Teflon pan, this was an artist with brush and palette, a veritable Michelangelo with a Cuisinart. I was transformed.
I set about finding things to improve my chances of excellence and bought my first real set of knives shortly afterwards. A little later I became more interested in technique, and then later on began reading books about how protein strands behave with heat, the ethereal sound of the word emulsify, and then, nearly losing my mind over how many different ways you could use figs. I have to say, though that the real breakthrough moments came after becoming interested in wine. The depth of this discipline opened up a new lens to use when cooking and I began to understand a whole new world of complex combinations, artistry and disciplines. Today, what you'll find is someone who has kept much of her music INSIDE. And just lately I have come to the realization that I have to start getting it all on the OUTSIDE. What does that mean? Well, it means I've been cooking forever but I don't have a culinary pedigree. I do have a slew of friends and family, though that will attest to my prowess and passion about cooking. I suppose a place to start is better than not cooking at all. I will always, "feel like cooking!" |
A summary of my culinary passions. Or, why I Feel Like Cooking:
I love food. It is the ultimate hobby. And I have been playing with my food ever since my first oven took its place in the corner of the my pink, little girl's bedroom, it's small, petite burners casting a faint glow of possibility on the faces of my well pampered dolls and fringed curtains. I didn't have tea parties, I had feasts, and it is amazing my barbies were able to retain their figures, especially since I insisted they always order dessert.
I guess I felt like there was always meant to be an apron on my hip and a spatula in my hand. (And a matching purse on my arm, apparently.) It just felt right and I knew I could figure out how to do anything if properly accessorized. Maybe you understand or you wouldn't be here reading the musings of someone who would rather wander the aisles of Sur La Table, or collect funky dishes, than wear a mink coat.
Here's another thing I love about food. It affects all our senses and possesses an incredible ability to soothe us, challenge us, elevate us and certainly define us. Over the years I have found my love of food and cooking deepen as I experiment with textures, chemistry and flavor combinations. I love adding something spicy to a sweet dish, or making things twirl and sizzle in a pan. It's like discovering an imaginary friend that is always next to you, urging you on to greatness and experimentation one recipe at a time.
Eons ago, and I do mean eons, I cooked my first meal. You know, the one in your first house. Not the one where you help you mom make green bean casserole, or slice carrots for your aunt's salad. I mean cooking in the space you arranged, with magnets on the fridge that mean something to you and a deviled egg dish in the cupboard that dreams of greatness. And because I was a newlywed, clad in a smiling cloak of panic as I maneuvered my way from stove, to fridge, I needed to feel spectacular about what I put on the table, so I bought one of those jello molds at KMart and began wowing my dinner guests. (Well, my mom thought it was awesome!) The final creation even emerged in once piece and looked very formal on a table featuring boiled corn and fish sticks. That's probably because the jello was two tiered, the effect occurring because I didn't know the jello should be partly set before you add cool whip. Happy accident #1 and it has led to a lot of mistakes that I have turned into triumphs. Ain't they all.
As you peruse my website, I hope you will see that most of it is the result of whimsy and a need to calm myself beside a stainless pan with fresh ingredients at my side. There you will find me smiling, and most likely barefoot (I hate to cook with shoes on.) a pad of butter poised in my hand, and friends gathered around a table. I have learned that the most amazing things happen spontaneously, and the best ingredients are the ones that beg you to let them be the stars. All in all, it's what happens when "I Feel Like Cooking."
I love food. It is the ultimate hobby. And I have been playing with my food ever since my first oven took its place in the corner of the my pink, little girl's bedroom, it's small, petite burners casting a faint glow of possibility on the faces of my well pampered dolls and fringed curtains. I didn't have tea parties, I had feasts, and it is amazing my barbies were able to retain their figures, especially since I insisted they always order dessert.
I guess I felt like there was always meant to be an apron on my hip and a spatula in my hand. (And a matching purse on my arm, apparently.) It just felt right and I knew I could figure out how to do anything if properly accessorized. Maybe you understand or you wouldn't be here reading the musings of someone who would rather wander the aisles of Sur La Table, or collect funky dishes, than wear a mink coat.
Here's another thing I love about food. It affects all our senses and possesses an incredible ability to soothe us, challenge us, elevate us and certainly define us. Over the years I have found my love of food and cooking deepen as I experiment with textures, chemistry and flavor combinations. I love adding something spicy to a sweet dish, or making things twirl and sizzle in a pan. It's like discovering an imaginary friend that is always next to you, urging you on to greatness and experimentation one recipe at a time.
Eons ago, and I do mean eons, I cooked my first meal. You know, the one in your first house. Not the one where you help you mom make green bean casserole, or slice carrots for your aunt's salad. I mean cooking in the space you arranged, with magnets on the fridge that mean something to you and a deviled egg dish in the cupboard that dreams of greatness. And because I was a newlywed, clad in a smiling cloak of panic as I maneuvered my way from stove, to fridge, I needed to feel spectacular about what I put on the table, so I bought one of those jello molds at KMart and began wowing my dinner guests. (Well, my mom thought it was awesome!) The final creation even emerged in once piece and looked very formal on a table featuring boiled corn and fish sticks. That's probably because the jello was two tiered, the effect occurring because I didn't know the jello should be partly set before you add cool whip. Happy accident #1 and it has led to a lot of mistakes that I have turned into triumphs. Ain't they all.
As you peruse my website, I hope you will see that most of it is the result of whimsy and a need to calm myself beside a stainless pan with fresh ingredients at my side. There you will find me smiling, and most likely barefoot (I hate to cook with shoes on.) a pad of butter poised in my hand, and friends gathered around a table. I have learned that the most amazing things happen spontaneously, and the best ingredients are the ones that beg you to let them be the stars. All in all, it's what happens when "I Feel Like Cooking."