Last summer, as we were killing off the grass in our front lawn to create an edible meadow, a friend gave us a gift for the new ecosystem we were coaxing into being. Kevin had bought some wine cap mushroom spawn — more than he could possibly use on his own lawn — and offered us the remaining half of the bag. Just before we shoveled wood chips over the layers of cardboard and compost we had laid down, I scattered flecks of inoculated sawdust along the shady north side of the house.

I’d been waiting 25 years to talk to Bette Midler, so I dove at the chance to interview the Divine Miss M on the release of her 1998 album Bathhouse Betty. I told the publicist I loved the new record, then, having the phone time for her call reserved, went home, dug up the new disc from the “not enough hours in the day” pile and listened to it for the first time.

When I was writing Momfluenced, I did some informal polling about the shit moms buy via Instagram and elsewhere. We all know that moms are sold beauty products to mask their exhaustion, mommy makeovers to eradicate evidence of creating a human, and obviously all sorts of clothing options made specifically to suit our Busy Mom™ lifestyles. But according to the 100 or so people who filled out my questionaire, moms are also prompted to buy wellness products, baby clothes, diapers, home goods, toys, books, art supplies, vacation packages, furniture, lunch boxes, parenting courses, weed, paint, and TOOTHPICKS.

The Shopper had bought king prawns, and I had unearthed a random fillet of blue-eye trevalla in the freezer. We looked at each other. This called for fregola.  Toasty pearls of Sardinian semolina pasta, fish and prawns in a sort of thick, dirty, dark stew made from the prawn heads. Done. You don’t need to actually cook the recipe to get a couple of things out of this: 1/ Never throw out your prawn heads and shells.

Identity is a concept I reflect upon often, as many do, and perhaps you as well. Growing up as a Greek-American in a family with shallow roots in this country, my dual identity became an issue early in life. My father was off the boat, and my mother was only a couple of generations here, from a Greek Cypriot family. Much like Toula in my Big Fat Greek Wedding, I realized my otherness in school – how I didn’t fit in with the American kids.