Monica Bhide Young teenage girls are supposed to fill their diaries with dreams of love, visions of the valiant prince who would sweep them away from their wicked, curfew-imposing, tightwad, strict, uncool, unhip parents.
My diary, however, was filled with emotions of a kid obsessed with food–particularly the cuisine of the Western Hemisphere. At the tender age of 14, I could cook a mean Indian-style leg of lamb, explain to you how to buy the best hamur (a local fish), smell goat cheese a mile away, and spell out nine ways to make couscous.
Read more here – Valley Advocate
