Chef David C. Wentz

A Central Pennsylvania native, son of an egg farmer, and product of the '60s, David recalls... buttermilk pancakes with local sausage and scrumptiously thick maple syrup on Sundays; a dandeline, smoked bacon and egg salad on the front porch; hot apple dumplings wafting with cinnamon and vanilla, served in a pool of fresh cream; the quintessential ribs of beef- boned, rolled, tied, and roasted with a black iron skillet of yorkshire pudding and a platter of fat green asparagus with hollondaise; once or twice a year- a whole fresh shad roasted on an ancient black cedar plank; a ground chuck burger and sliced summer tomatoes from which juices ran down his arms to his elbows; a chocolate pie to die for; exquisite merangues, the thinnest Christmas sand tart cookies; and a textbook perfect roast tom turkey. And Mom did all that without a Rolls Royce peppermill, 13 year-old balsamic vinegar, Williams and Sonoma, or a wire whip.

Presently living in Southern California with my wife and two teen-age daughters, I'm always appreciative of the fine weather and the bounty of fresh produce from local farms. I'm a former art student, an ex-drummer, and an experienced English teacher with a nice copper pepper mill, a bottle of aged balsamic vinegar, and a selection of wire whips in my pantry. And let's not forget about that Williams and Sonoma gift card taped on to the refidgerator.