I can’t remember a time in my life when I was not in love with all the foods there are to eat in the world. It’s vast; it’s miraculous, really, and I have always felt so lucky to live in a family that adored food and, most importantly, respected the tradition of preparing honored dishes for family.

When I wasn’t at school or in our store, I was at home with my mother and often my aunts, or at their homes, learning about and cooking Palestinian food. My mother’s food always took first place, and I paid close attention to what she did and to whom she looked up to and learned from.

Subsequently, the two aunts I learned the most from were Azizieh and Suad. Along with mom, they were the holy trinity of the most delectable dishes. Together, they instilled in me a wild desire to try everything and taught me that in order to deliver the ethereal tastes of our dishes, it was necessary to be intense and joyful in the kitchen. This joyful state of mind was required at the market or on the farms while planning the meals as well.

The joy seed for food was tossed around by my father and the seeds grew in our family and thrived there throughout our lives. He loved food his entire life and it was always a joy to eat anything with him. I know mom loved to cook for him as he was so excited about every meal. His love of food helped to fuel her passion to learn and then to perfect every dish.

Hot summer nights in Michigan were always a reason to crack open a big, juicy watermelon. Dad teased me that the “watermelon seed” birthmark on my right thigh was proof of how much watermelon he, my mom, and all my ancestors had eaten. I love that I carry this watermelon seed mark. It reminds me of where I came from.

My daughter Elise has the same birthmark, and we all love watermelon especially when served with some nice cheese and bread.