This blog started with a break-up. I broke up with a guy who I loved to talk about literature with. He was cute, sensitive, a good conversationalist, he could be charming at times, and sometimes he surprised me in delightful ways. He was also too young, a bit caustic, moody, self-absorbed, not particularly emotionally astute, and lacking in the kind of calm confidence with which I thrive, but he sure had good taste in books.
Where his taste was lacking was in food and he was a terrible cook. Worse yet, he almost never let me cook for him. He said he had a very bad experience with his former girlfriend who made dinner one night and was upset by his critique. Apparently this was the beginning of the end of that relationship. And as much as I detest being judged by someone else’s mistakes, I get his trepidation. Then came the mother of all American food days – Thanksgiving. Finally a chance, and…I blew it. The sweet potato latkes were chewy and tasteless. Very bad. He critiqued, but I didn’t care. When you’re right, you’re right. I managed to redeem myself a little bit with a Chili-Lime Cashew Eggplant Stir-Fry one night, but apparently it just wasn’t enough.
It seemed like all of that pent up cooking angst came flooding out after we broke it off. I found a nice friend who plays Rachmaninoff for me while I cook. I bought a new set of Heinkels and a bamboo cutting board. I started shopping at the Co-op again. But there was something missing in my soul. I could not share my dinner with him. I can’t talk about literature with him anymore. So, instead I decided to share my recipes and books with all of you.
Enjoy. And, if you have critiques, please feel free to leave a comment. I won’t get upset and break up with you.