My relationship with my mother was, um, complicated. She was a kid herself in many ways, having been neglected by her own beautiful but narcissistic mother. She pretty much raised herself and from my jaundiced teenage perspective, my mother was a disgrace. She wanted romance and adventure and was frustrated by the mundane tomb of her obligations. Never mind the fact that she’d been a parent since the age of 19 with 4 kids.
But nothing makes you appreciate your mother more than psychedelics. When I was 15, my best friend and I decided to try Mescaline and drive up to her grandfather’s house in Trancas. Right on the beach, we thought this would be a glorious place to trip.
We waited on the sand for about 2 hours for the stuff to ‘come on’ and realized it just wasn’t gonna happen. Frustrated and angry we started the long drive on PCH back to Beverly Hills.
In a handful of months I will become a first time mom. When my husband Alex and I think about what we’ll cook for our son or daughter, he has pot loads of ideas, and with good reason. My mother-in-law is Italian, raised in Milan, and my father-in-law is Japanese, raised in Tokyo. Alex’s childhood food memories are like an episode of Anthony Bourdain’s Parts Unknown. They are just, quite literally, that rich and that good. 
