My path to private chef started at sixteen, at the pot sink of a scratch kitchen in an area diner under the watchful eye of a seasoned chef and his professional staff. Nineteen found me graduating from The Culinary Institute of America and taking my first cook position at a restaurant and banquet house in Pittsburgh PA.

My curiosity for cooking was whetted in my grandmother’s small kitchen in a Collingswood bungalow.The aroma from spice cookies and apple pie are as redolent in today’s memory as they were in my childhood. Delmonico steaks searing with onions in an iron skillet for my father were later to be my treats on luncheon visits. It was dad’s experimental nature and love of fine dining that enhanced my desires and lead me to the professional kitchen.

The gardener in me came alive in my twenties. My first home was accompanied with a large garden that had been neglected for many years. My young back and a rake uncovered a small Eden beneath the huge magnolia, pieris, azalea. Forgotten roses hidden by a massive thorned mock orange. Errant iris and daffodil outlined the memory of a perennial border. I married not long after. It was during the honeymoon Barbara and I spent a long day at the Montreal Botanical Gardens. I’ll admit I returned home with two loves. Both blossomed on that tree lined street.

Soon I was bringing fresh herbs into the city to enhance the dishes at Gaetano’s. It wasn’t long our two lovely daughters were sharing the sand box set in the rose garden. The swing set behind the vegetable beds. In my present garden I have crops throughout the year. Most meals are created around this bounty.