My parents, Mike and Rosie Naumcheff, were the original tastemakers in my eyes, My love of food—creating it, eating it, exploring it, sharing it, teaching it—all began with them.
My Mom, the Baker, Pastry Chef & Hostess
My mom was not only an extraordinary baker, by industry standards she was a pastry chef. I would stand bewildered watching her masterfully cut fat into flour for perfect pie crusts in seconds. She could fearlessly boil sugar into a perfect caramel without a thermometer. Her regular weekend breakfasts were a decadent display of all things southern fare: plates brimming with buttermilk biscuits, gravies, grits, pancakes, sausages, bacon, eggs—a seemingly endless spread.
Every Christmas Eve, I would keep her company as she prepared an infinte spread of pies, cakes, candies, breads, and more. We would laugh, cry, and renew our love as mother/daughter, knowing all was right with the world.
My Father, the Restaurateur, Rocket Scientist & Feeder-in-Chief
While my mom handled most of the cooking on weekdays, my Dad took the reins on the weekends. My dad was a magnificent savory cook; yet, his career at NASA left little time to spend experimenting in the kitchen.
When my mom wasn’t preparing her southern breakfast spread, he would serve up breakfast for the neighborhood kids, usually sourdough french toast or pancakes. Later in the day, he’d offer authentic ice cream sodas, with salty redskin peanuts adorning the top. During the holidays, he prepared homemade chutneys, stuffed turkeys, roasted chestnuts, and made festive charcuterie boards, long before charcuterie was a thing.
Going to the grocery store with my father was a celebratory event, shopping the aisles like it was Christmas. First the bakery, filling boxes with apple fritters, raspberry danishes, and chocolate eclairs. Our basket, brimming with cheeses, olives, pumpernickel bread, pastrami, mustards, all in anticipation of unpacking and whipping up something magical.
He knew early that food and cooking would be my life’s work, so he fostered that love and taught me the intricacies of flavor. Very early on, he challenged me to take a box of phyllo and create pastries, like his Macedonian mother did early in his life.
My dad allowed me—no, expected me—to have the audacity to believe that I could accomplish anything. Only with his supreme confidence would I have undertaken many of my roles in food.
Continuing the Family Legacy
When I opened my first restaurant—Sweet in Memphis, Tennessee—my mom and dad had very different opinions: My mom was fiercely proud, travelling to Memphis to serve as hostess. My father, on the other hand, did not encourage it. Not because he didn’t believe in me, but because he knew from his own restaurant ownership days how grueling and all encompassing the industry can be. Together, they helped guide my journey through the culinary world, and I wouldn’t be where I am today if it weren’t for their profound support and influence.
My parents and I continued to commiserate and savor the world of food until they passed away. In the last interaction with my father, he challenged me to create a new savory phyllo pastry. In my mom’s final days, we all were together when she made her famous peanut butter fudge. Today, I honor them by launching Eat Splendid in their name—this one’s for you, Mom and Dad.
Love,
Paula
