I almost didn’t start this blog because I am so damn neurotic that I can’t write an about me page. I stare and stare and go around in circles wondering what you even need to know about me.
I’m so nervous I mistyped can’t three times and no one is even watching. Welcome to my brain, world. Selling myself makes me (and most normal people) uncomfortable. It goes against my nature to say, “Read MY blog.”
So why write it?
The short answer is, for me. Food is my outlet, my Zen, my “I’m not going to freak out today” savior but it’s not nearly as fun (and way more fattening) without people to share it with. What started as a SnapChat story of making eggs in my kitchen at 3 AM (I blame vodka) has become a habit, a tradition of sorts, and people actually kind of like it. I know. It surprised me too.
I have a passion for teaching and showing love through food. My favorite memories are centered on my kitchens and the people I’ve taught and fed in them. I want to create a place where I can share the joy I find in food. Send me your thoughts, your requests; we’re in this together.
I’m 22-year-old, post-grad, self-trained cook who burns herself a lot and might as well be the headmaster of the prestigious “Fake it until you make it” Academy. I know just enough about cooking that if you don’t mind a little rambling, and maybe want learn a recipe or two, I’m your gal. I make pretty damn good food. It won’t always be pretty and it will be FULL of immature jokes and foul language but here it is, uncensored. Here’s to good food, great company and hiding this from my grandma. Grandma, if you read this one day I’m really sorry I turned out to be kind of a trash person with the mouth of a prison gang. Love you.