Sinneswahn?
It's an odd name, I know. In Germany, I've often heard the word "Wahnsinn" thrown around while someone gushes about how absolutely crazily deliciously overwhelmingly good a dish tastes, or in regards to something insanely luxuriously enjoyable. The word Wahnsinn is actually two words -- Wahn, meaning crazy, delerious, etc; and Sinn, meaning sense or senses. So Sinneswahn is just the word flipped around and has basically the same meaning, except the stress is more on the senses, and that's what I want this website to be about....all the things that make my senses dance, that make me feel alive ... food and cooking, fresh ingredients, exciting flavors ... traveling, experiencing new places and revisiting them, tasting, photographing ... being in motion, using one's hands, learning ... being under a different sky.
Me
My name is Maria. I was born to immigrant parents on May 30, 1971 in Brooklyn, NY at 1:11 in the afternoon. Incidentally, in the hallway of the hospital...I could not wait for the doctor (who to this day, calls me Peanut). I'm named after my mother's sister, who passed away at the young age of 14. I've been told that I remind people of her... feisty and stubborn. But I like to think of myself as more tenacious and steadfast, than stubborn. Someone who doesn't give up.
I'm genetically Italian....my mother emigrated, by herself, to the United States from Sicily when she was 17 years old. My dad, who had seen her at a wedding in Sicily, followed in hot pursuit. He got the girl, cutie that he was, and 4 kids later, yours truly was born. My best memories are masses of relatives getting together for outdoor meals, clams on the grill, charred artichokes, bread rubbed with garlic and tomato, vats of bubbling sauce, fat slabs of watermelon, and at birthdays, cake on your face.
I never got over the cake on my face. I wanted, always, to feel objects in my environment, to experience sensations against my skin, to feel the texture in my hands, to have the freedom to touch and be touched. Nothing was worse for me than to be in a place and be told don't touch.
And so, cooking was always in my heart. I learned from helping my mother -- I think I grew up with a wooden spoon in my hand -- and when I got older, I kept on cooking. Roommates during my college years often joked that there could be a jar of mustard in the fridge and I'd come up with a whole meal. Cooking, to me, is sensuous, and alive. It's my way of taking care of people, feeding them and feeding their lives, with warmth and pleasure.
I launched my first food blog, called Nosh, in 2004. A lot has changed in the food blogging world since then. Welcome old friends and new ... touch.
