I started journaling a few years back while driving cross country from Los Angeles to Atlanta. There was no plan or objective. I never shared it with anyone. Off on a grand adventure, I felt a need to track the things I was experiencing, record the people I was seeing, the wine I was drinking, and to set down the words that were dancing in my head. It became a habit. I traveled alone and wrote about my journeys. More recently I started to share these. More recently they’ve become, somehow, more important to me. And a little encouragement goes a long way. The recipe leading to this…a blog.

I am not sure that there really are “qualifications” for being a blogger. But if you’re taking the time to read all this nonsense, I thought you might want to know who I am and where I am coming from.  Here’s a quick picture: I’ve spent the better part of my life working in and out of restaurants while chasing other creative dreams. I’m the son of hippies, born on a commune and raised in a blue collar Brooklyn-Italian neighborhood.   I’m a poor boy who attended Poly Prep and Vassar College. I’m a New Yorker through and through living in Los Angeles. I’m a hopeless romantic who’s divorced. I’m a sports nut, entertainment enthusiast, amateur chef, and owner to one extraordinary yellow lab mix. My family communicates through food and most of my friendships forged over drinks. Currently, I make my living selling wine.

I am in love with storytelling. I am writing this blog because through my journaling I started to see stories in every place I visited, in every work of art I saw, every stranger, every meal and every glass of wine. They took on a meaning of their own and seemed to want to be shared. Some names have been changed to protect the innocent. The rest is all me. If they make you angry, laugh, cry, or think; fantastic.