Voula Halliday


Memorable first tastes: raw onions, frog legs, escargot, yeasty old Champagne, the toasted Western sandwiches dad makes, smoked Winnipeg Gold Eye, rare steak, chewy oysters.

By age 7 my parents trusted me with fire & knives.

I made perfect pastry, richly marbled with aged cheddar. I wrapped apples in this & baked them. Mom & dad kept peeking in the oven, impatient & eager.

First chef I loved: Anton Mosimann. Bought his book Naturally- dedicated "to all those who love good food". I made the Layered Buckwheat Crepes with Smoked Salmon many times for my parent's parties. I've had that crepe pan for 35+ years.

I learned to cook magaritsa. Took my time to chop lamb offal into bite size pieces. The different parts of the lamb were fascinating & haunting to me. This is the dish I made that would break the fast of the Great Lent for my Greek Orthodox family when they returned from church.

When teenage angst impacted me, I made bread from scratch—3 loaves, every weekend. The beauty of active yeast penetrated my eyes & nose & settled me down. Time was a good friend. The smell of bread filled the house until the morning. I slept well in this cocoon.


Putting into words what is happening in my heart, my life, my learning. In that which sustains me. Poems. Stories. Articles. Recipes.


When the world sleeps, I draw with oil pastels, markers, & pencils. Each drawing is an expression that manifests as a portrait of a person. In this person you see a story. I'm preparing next for a journey with canvas, brushes & oil paints. Already I see faces, thickly layered on the canvas, staring back at me.