If ever there was a love passed down through meals, through laughter, and through hands flour-dusted and diligent, it was the love my mother gave me for food. Growing up, my mother was my hero, best friend, and first culinary inspiration, inspiring me to embrace food as more than just nourishment but a celebration of life. She didn’t simply prepare meals; she crafted experiences, each more prosperous and layered than the last, even having my peers pay for a sandwich at elementary school lunch. Thanks to her, I call myself a foodie today, a lover of flavors, and a seeker of the stories that food tells.
To watch my mom build her bread company was to witness determination in its purest form. She managed this passion while raising two children, balancing business and family with remarkable grace. Her bread wasn’t just a product but a labor of love. The scent of fresh-baked loaves and the OG scent of her car emitted from her clothes. Early mornings at the bakery and long phone calls on every car ride, when I wanted to play Justin Bieber, are the memories that shaped my childhood. And I wouldn’t change it for the world. My mom taught me that food can be both a livelihood and an art form, as well as a way to leave one’s mark on the world—watching her pour herself into her craft instilled in me an appreciation for food beyond taste and texture.
But it wasn’t just her bread and business-making; it was the joy she found in the kitchen, especially when her sister Polly joined her. Oh my god (OMG) is what I say when Polly comes up. My closest aunt and my second mom shaped my career. When the two of them cook together, the kitchen transforms into a sacred space filled with laughter, stories, and the rhythm of hands at work. They moved around each other quickly, passing ingredients, throwing in a pinch of spice or a touch of salt. I remember sitting on the counter, watching them in awe as they chop onions and dance through recipes only they know. The meals they create together isn’t just food; it’s where lovable dishes filled with laughter, friendship, and family unite. In those moments, I understood that food is something to be shared, something that brings people together in ways words never could.
As I grew older, my mom and I began to travel together, embarking on culinary adventures worldwide. She became my guide, showing me that food was a passport to different cultures. Together, we explored bustling markets, sampled spices that filled the air, and tasted dishes that spoke of history and tradition. From Italian pasta to tapas bars in Spain, every meal we shared was a new world that opened up to me, and each bite was another chapter in our story. She taught me to savor every flavor, to approach every dish with an open heart, and to seek out the stories behind the meals.
This is my ode to my mother, my first and forever food bestie. You taught me that food is not merely sustenance but art, passion, and memory. You raised me in a world filled with flavor, laughter, and love, and because of you, I have a hunger not just for food but for the world. I thank you for every meal shared, every laugh-filled kitchen moment, and the endless encouragement to explore. In every bite I take, in every dish I savor, I carry you with me and the love you instilled in me for food, family, and life.
Luisa LoFranco 
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