When I was a child, my mother spent much of her time in the kitchen, preparing all of our meals from scratch. We regularly went to the local farm for fresh eggs and milk, the mill to grind flour and nut butters. Honey was the only acceptable sweetener, and her idea of a “treat” was a trip to the local health food store for fresh-squeezed carrot juice. Once a year, she would bake a cake on our birthday, made with real sugar. Needless to say, I started hiding bowls of sugar under my bed at a very young age…As a young adult, I rebelled against my humble and healthful beginnings and consumed foods that were the polar opposite of health; processed frozen meals, diet sodas, Twinkies and the like. It wasn’t until I got older that I came to appreciate food for its flavor and aesthetic. Cooking nourished me on an entirely different level. For years, I’d pour over countless cookbooks and magazines, reading cover to cover and trying out new recipes, which helped teach me some kitchen basics. While I still enjoy cookbooks and foodie magazines, blogs etc., I’ve come to rely on my intuition with the food I create.
For me, cooking is a process that reaches beyond mere sustenance; it is a currency that connects me physically, emotionally, and socially. I cook with instinct and heart. I love to cook for friends and family. There is nothing better than going into the kitchen and taking stock, then coming up with something creative and delicious on the fly, often with a few bits of leftovers and some basic pantry staples.
My posts match my mood: I tether between wry humor and sarcasm, and an overly-bubbly sense of optimism and exuberance. Please, take me with a grain of salt.