My first memories of great food began with watching my mother make Danish pastry using a recipe booklet put out by Allsweet margarine. The momentous occasion usually took place around late March, just when the weather was beginning to change. She learned to make the pastry from a neighbor next door who moved to Detroit from the Virgin Islands. I was about four years old and from that time forward I began my sensuous love affair with food. I have been a cook, food stylist, and caterer, pastry assistant, cooking instructor and all round food enthusiast for more than forty six years. I remember sending off for a free cookbook using the label off a Campbell soup can at the ripe old age of ten. Food is my passion, food is my life. I have worked in a major hotel, a swank restaurant in downtown Detroit, catered for the rich and famous, been the food stylist for a “love chef” and a few other visiting chefs promoting their books and products, catered for Fortune 500 companies and learned to make the best Gumbo in the world… or so I’ve been told. I hesitate to call myself a chef, although according to the Wordnet Princeton dictionary, a chef is defined as a professional cook; I really just consider myself to be a good old fashion cook who makes good old fashion food. My philosophy is simple, a good cook + fresh ingredients = great food. You don’t need a lot of fancy appliances, although they are nice. You don’t need a lot of fancy ingredients, although they are helpful. You don’t need a big fancy kitchen, even though that is nice too. What you really need is a solid foundation in basic cooking, time, commitment, a good attitude and lots and lots of love for the craft. Today I teach private cooking classes, set up cooking demos, write about food, review restaurants and stress the importance of creating food memories that will last for generations to come. It is not how often you cook, but how well you cook that really matters. If you just have a few deliciously sinful recipes under your belt, you will always be able to experience a “divine dine.” Laissez les bon temps roulez, Denay