Hi, I’m Mel — making elevated, vegetable-forward cooking easy.

Born From Italian Sundays and French Canadian Winters

My roots stretch between two food cultures shaped by place and season. My mother was born in Italy, my father in a small town in French Canada, and I grew up in the multicultural rhythm of Montréal — where long Italian Sundays and cold French-Canadian winters quietly shaped my relationship with food, community, and the way I cook today.

Italian Cooking: Intuitive and Honest

My cooking has been deeply influenced by Italian traditions, shaped by childhood Sundays in my Nonna’s kitchen — family-centred, unfussy meals built around pasta, fresh greens, ripe tomatoes, herbaceous flavours, and generous drizzles of rich olive oil. I watched my Nonna cook by instinct, guided by simple, honest ingredients and years of quiet confidence. When I would ask her how much of something to add, she’d look at me puzzled and say you simply put in as much basil as it needs, as you feel it needs, teaching me that good cooking is less about strict rules and more about attention, intuition, and tasting along the way.

My Nonna taught me how to make pasta by hand, a tradition passed from mother to daughter in Italy and carried through generations. This process — turning flour, egg, and a pinch of salt into countless pasta shapes and sizes that have nourished an entire culture for generations — feels meaningful, rooted in history and carried through family.

Outside the kitchen, I grew up watching her tend to her tomato garden, propped up with whatever sticks, broom handles, or scraps of wood she could find — a reflection of her steady, no-nonsense care, given without fuss and full of quiet dedication.

Watching her, I learned the value of hard work, an appreciation for simple, honest things, and the patience of the seasons. Later, I would stand beside her with my mother and sister, canning tomatoes together — the tiny kitchen alive with conversation and filled with the scent of warm earth and ripe tomatoes, marking the end of summer. Those moments continue to shape my cooking today, grounding it in a deep, humble respect for ingredients and an unfussy, intuitive approach.

Even now, that way of cooking stays with me — intuitive, ingredient-led, and rooted in care. Dishes like simple bean-based soups, garlicky greens, and slow-baked vegetables reflect that spirit. Humble, family-centred, and generous, there will always be a trace of those Italian Sundays in my kitchen.

French Canadian Cooking: Communal and Hearty

As much as my cooking was shaped by my Italian heritage, it was equally shaped by where I grew up — in Québec, where food tells a very different story. While it isn’t always internationally known, French-Canadian cooking carries a rich history of resilience, tradition, and deeply comforting dishes shaped by long winters. Meals like tourtière, hearty pea soup, pâté chinois, and the maple-laden rituals of cabane à sucre cooking speak to nourishment, practicality, and warmth. Much of this cuisine is traditionally meat-based, and that’s where I love to get creative — reimagining familiar flavours and techniques in ways that are vegetable-forward, balanced, and gently elevated, without losing their soul.

French-Canadian cooking taught me the importance of generosity at the table — hearty dishes built around root vegetables, slow cooking, and meals meant to be passed around and eaten together. It also instilled a deep respect for the seasons, shaped by long winters and brief harvests, a rhythm that mirrors the Italian approach I learned in my Nonna’s kitchen. My cooking today lives at the intersection of these two traditions, drawing from both — intuitive and ingredient-led, communal and comforting — grounded in care, and a deep respect for what the season offers.