How I learned to cook no thanks to my mother

I’m not sure if my mother has ever chopped a vegetable. Her idea of baking from scratch is adding a dash of cinnamon to a muffin mix. She doesn’t like spice and it’s a struggle to ever get her to go out to dinner anywhere but at her favorite Chinese restaurant.

Needless to say when I started living on my own I didn’t know anything about cooking. I used to make pesto from a packet. But luckily I knew a lot of wonderful cooks. I would watch them chop vegetables and add seasoning to recipes when I visited them for dinner.

My life changed when I started renting an apartment on a pick your own farm in Bucks County, Pennsylvania. I picked blueberries, opened up a used Pillsbury cookbook I bought and made muffins. The blueberry exploded like fireworks. It was the most incredible thing I had ever seen or tasted.

I love food. I love flavor. I love anything my mother would consider unusual like adding cinnamon to a Moroccan chicken dish.  I have a kitchen full of appliances and subscription to several cooking magazines.

I’ve started this blog to share my food obsession. I hope you’ll use this to share recipes and your favorite food stories with me too.