My family is obsessed with food. I think by the age of ten, my brothers and I were holding spatulas more than watching cartoons. Coming from an Italian and Hungarian heritage, the dinner hour was almost sacred; and food was synonymous with loud conversation, laughter, and an open front door. My parents instilled a philosophy in me: friends means fellowship, and fellowship means food. I'm now on my own, preparing meals in my small 1940s apartment, and experimenting in my own kitchen. But the front door is still open--just like home.