Damon Lee Fowler

You may have noticed that new Recipes and Stories entries have been rather sporadic over the last couple of years. That's because now that I'm no longer teaching and writing a newspaper column there's just so much to say about the cooking that goes on in my kitchen day-in-day-out. A lot of it I've already written about more than anyone needed to read, and the rest isn't easy to put down—not because it's complicated, but because it's just cooking—without a recipe either in front of me or even the front of my mind. Things are measured, though not with scales, cups, and spoons but with my eyes, tongue, and hands, relying on five decades of experience. That's something a teacher can tell students about, but the only way to really get it is by doing it.

It usually evolves along these lines: last week was St. Patrick's Day, which is a big deal where we used to live. You couldn't miss it in Savannah if you were blind and deaf. Well ahead of time, Read More 

If you've followed this page for any time at all, you know that the fall of 1978 was a pivotal time in my life. That was when I was lucky enough to begin my graduate architectural studies with four months in Genova, the capitol of Liguria and heart of Italy's Riviera. That's where Clemson owns a modest Renaissance-Revival villa in the hilly suburb above the old city.

With its sun-drenched terraced gardens and incomparable views of the bay, It was an idyllic setting for studying architecture—and I did. Some. Half my time was spent either in studio or tramping, sketchbook and journal in hand, around that ancient city, the other picturesque towns of the Riviera, and some of Europe's oldest capitols.

The thing that changed my life, however, and eventually took it in a completely different direction had nothing directly to do with ancient art and architecture. It was the way I spent the other half of that four months: in the kitchen with our beautiful cook, Ilda Gemme Torti.

That kitchen was an experience all by itself:  Read More