In the six or so years since my first attempt at blogging, I finished school, moved out West and back, and have gone through countless apartments, jobs and boyfriends. Amid the haphazard epoch of my early twenties, cooking was often the only constant. I made biscuits and gravy in my tiny Portland studio when I was in denial of my own homesickness. I baked my way through my first heartbreak. I crafted cheap, homemade cocktails and hors d'oeuvres for friends when I was too broke to go out. I fell in love over an unassuming tray of enchiladas. The meals themselves weren't always the most remarkable, but the process of cooking- that coming together of ingredients and inspiration, imbued with the day's triumphs and frustrations- remained cathartic and grounding.
Thankfully, my life has started to settle down a bit. I have a steady job and a nice apartment with my gem of a boyfriend. Still, I look forward to the nightly affirmation that dinner provides. It's a welcome opportunity to be resourceful, to experiment, and to create something worth sharing with the people I love.
So here it is. Another food blog. A space I hope will preserve not only the recipes I work with, but also the experiences that surround them.
"In the uncertain ebb and flow of time and emotions, much of one’s life history is etched in the senses. ”
― Banana Yoshimoto, Kitchen
