Helenka (yes, with no last name).

Only Brian and I could find each other from one end of the country to – well, not the other end but – somewhere in the middle (of the universe), namely Toronto. Just as his background is unique, so is mine. My parents were Polish and met here. I grew up eating some of the most exquisite cuisine because, contrary to popular misconception, Polish cooking isn’t all about beet soup (no matter how it’s pronounced), cabbage rolls or pierogi (which BTW is the plural of “pierog”). With the royal liaisons between the French and Polish courts (two Frenchwomen marrying Polish kings around the time of Louis XIV of France; also King Louis XV marrying the daughter of the exiled King Stanislaw of Poland but, hey, you’re not here to read about history), it’s not unexpected to learn that the cuisines shared similarities.

So, do I know how to cook Polish food? Truth time: no. Because I was only allowed to watch from the sidelines. But I have wonderful memories of some of the extravagant French-inspired dishes (sauteed calves’ brains in butter being a particular fave). On the other hand, I also grew up eating just about EVERY part of an animal, so it wasn’t unusual to have tongue or sweetbreads or heart.

When I moved out on my own, I was determined to learn how to cook just about everything else. And I began to collect cookbooks. Shelves and shelves of them. I still have them all. Besides, I like looking (drooling) at the pictures. And, now, I get to share some of my memories while acting as Brian’s sidekick. Also, it’s wonderful to have adopted him as a brother because I was an only child. I didn’t know what I was missing!