Here it is--my first post. If you had told me five years ago that someday I'd be writing a cooking blog, I would have called you crazy. At that time, my only experience with baking and cooking involved cleaning the mounds of dirty dishes I invariably created whenever I walked into the kitchen and trying to peer at my handiwork through the blackened oven window as whatever I had put inside progressed from batter to baked good to charcoal. Biscuits, cookies, cakes--you name it, I could burn it.
However, around four years ago I met my current roommate, and suddenly had an audience--a hungry, demanding, audience--for my cooking. My parents don't each much meat, fat, wheat, sugar...the list goes on. One bite of whatever I made as an appetizer before their daily bowl of quinoa wasn't exactly the reception I craved, and their attitude about food, while healthy, which is more than I can say about most Americans, didn't foster an environment of culinary creativity and diversity. My roommate's interest in eating and his family's enthusiastic approach to food opened me up to cooking, and I realized it's not only a way to get good things in your mouth; it's an art. The process of cooking is an exercise in all the senses--the arresting burst of chili oil on your tongue, the rough embrace of flour gripping your fingertips as you work butter into it, the faint sweet smell of baking cake that signals to the practiced nose that it's almost done; and, since I started incorporating photography into my recipes, the banquet of visual beauty I had hitherto overlooked.
This blog is documentation of my quest to cook, based on my love of making things and eating things--and I can guarantee that each story will have if not a sweet, at least a fulfilling, ending.
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