WELCOME

I’M SO GLAD YOU’RE HERE!

Hi Guys ! I’m Ashley Madison, and if you ever find yourself wandering a quiet Manhattan street at dusk, when the city lights begin to twinkle and the scent of garlic and basil dances through the air, you might just stumble upon the little apartment where I fell in love with food all over again. I’m 45 now, living in the heart of New York City, but my soul still hums with the rhythms of Italy, where my story began.

I grew up in a sleepy town just outside Bologna, where Sundays weren’t Sundays without a house full of cousins, the clatter of pans, and Nonna Rosa’s voice singing old lullabies as she stirred her sauce. She had magic in her fingers—her gnocchi were like clouds, her ragù like poetry. I used to sit on a wooden stool, chin barely reaching the counter, watching her hands work, feeling the pulse of generations pass through flour and eggs.

When I was 24, I packed a suitcase with too many shoes, not enough sweaters, and my trusty pasta machine. New York felt like a thunderstorm of energy and dreams, and I was lightning in the middle of it. I started in tiny kitchens with broken ovens and big ambitions. I burned things—oh, I burned so many things. But I learned. I cooked for everyone from tourists in Times Square to jazz musicians in smoky lounges who swore they played better after my tiramisu.

The city tested me. It made me sharper, bolder, braver. I earned my scars in the heat of kitchens and the cold of early morning markets. I opened pop-up dinners in forgotten alleyways, taught kids to make lasagna in after-school programs, and once fed fifty people out of a kitchen the size of a broom closet. Every moment, every meal, taught me something.

Now, my kitchen in Manhattan is a wild blend of old-world and new—cast iron pans beside immersion blenders, Nonna’s spoon resting next to my latest gadget. Here, I invite you in. Whether you’re a home cook just learning how to chop an onion, a seasoned chef looking for a spark of inspiration, or someone who simply loves to eat—I’m here for you.

Cooking, to me, is storytelling. It’s remembering the laughter of family, the bravery of moving far from home, the quiet joy of a perfect bite. It’s okay to mess up—I’ve curdled custards, dropped entire cakes, and once set off the fire alarm making roasted peppers. But it’s all part of the dance.

So come in. The sauce is simmering, the wine is open, and the stories are just getting started. Let’s cook something unforgettable—together.