Welcome to Petey's little corner of cyberspace.......

In the beginning, when the world was new and nothing had a name, my mother made me cinnamon buns. I never knew how she did it, raising me and my brothers after our dad moved to Santorini, but she always made sure there was food on the table. And boy! What a full table it was; yet it was hard being in a set of triplets.

There was nothing that was just mine. We would fight like junkyard dogs, as boys do, over who could get seconds. Rarely did I come out on top, Benji was always the biggest of us La Bia boys, but the magic of food never left me. Of course life has a funny way of getting in the way.

I never even tasted the cake on my wedding day. I knew it was chocolate buttercream and I knew it was a premier pastry chef my wife met abroad in Amsterdam. I knew it was expensive. I really did want something fruitier, but Jen didn't trust my instincts. Men don't get food like us girls, she told me. Now stay out of the kitchen. Sometimes I think if I gave in, really let myself try it, really put my foot down for some strawberries on top, Jen would still be here.

For a long time I thought that's just not me. I thought I was just some guy from Long Island who would never be able to appreciate a complex dish like a pastrami and swiss or fish and chips (hold the tartar sauce). Would I ever really understand what my mom was putting into all those meals before heading off to her shift at the university hospital? Maybe my father just couldn't resist the allure of a perfectly garnished watermelon feta salad? Was this what that pastry chef from The Netherlands had that I didn't? The secrets of the world were on the tip of my tongue but I couldn't seem to pick them out from the stovetop mac and cheese I made every night. Maybe everyone was right about me, maybe I'm just some loser who doesn't know the difference between kraft and velveeta. I believed it so it became true. Until now.

I'm documenting this journey, this exploration of eating for my mother. For all mothers. For Jen, I'll show you there's more to this world than chocolate buttercream. For my father, a wayward foodie just like me. Most of all this blog is for the little boy who always wanted that extra cinnamon bun, but never got it.