I got the beat end of every piece of my heritage: I’m Irish — overly-freckled, burn in all natural lighting — but an 8-year-old could drink me under the table (not that I’m endorsing that). I’ve got the too-thick-for-its-own-good Italian hair and grease leaking from my pores, but missed out on that olive skin tone and — most tragically — the natural Italian prowess in the kitchen.
Fortunately, it didn’t come into play too much when I lived with my family and was met with satiating [and free] meals more often than not. But now that I’m living on my own [and poor], I’m just that — on my own. It didn’t take too long for cheese sandwiches and frozen chicken patties to get old, and if I have to eat another g’damn box of Kraft for dinner, I’m going to blow chunks. (Should probably refrain from colorful vomit euphemisms in a food blog, huh?) (Or from preceding “vomit” with “colorful.”)
If you haven’t yet figured it out from my inability to simply say, “I’m learning how to cook,” I write for a living, but I’m looking to parlay that into something more fulfilling than what I do at work. Here, I’ll detail my kitchen exploits, list recipes, post enticing food photos (who doesn’t love some sexy ‘food porn’?) and share other assorted culinary tidbits.
While you’re perusing, please remember I am not a chef nor a photographer; I do, however, have a fascination with both food and visual arts, so I’ll use a dash of trial and a dollop of error and pray it’s palatable.
Any feedback, comments and suggestions you’d like to leave — good or bad — are always welcome. Thanks for reading!