I love food porn just as much as any 20-something aspiring domestic diva/Martha Stewart wanna be. I devour cookbooks, drooling and blushing worse than the Fifty Shades of soccer moms. I am seduced by any television program that features a close up of onions sizzling in a pan or sauce slowly sliding off of a spoon. My Internet history is shamefully full of hours and hours of searching for the perfect banana bread recipe.
Cookbooks, blogs, Pinterest, magazines, collected from friends and family, those obnoxious mini-magazines at the grocery store check out. No matter what form they come in, I love recipes. I love recreating them in my own kitchen, following every ingredient and step to a T. That, my friends, is not the problem.
While I claim that I love to bake and cook (my go to fact about myself during icebreakers-which for some strange reason I seem to find myself in quite frequently), without a recipe...
I go blank.
I am frightfully unable to piece together amazing ingredients and end up with an edible product. Even simple recipe tweaks go horribly wrong in my kitchen. My poor husband will recount the time I decided to use some sort of tropical fruity salsa in a bean burrito recipe. Or when I decided to wing it and created the world's saltiest shrimp (which he kindly ate after rinsing in the sink for five minutes).
And so you have it. My admission of guilt, my cry for help.
I created this blog in hopes of forcing myself to think outside the recipe box. I hope to document my efforts to learn from my fruity, salty mistakes as I venture into the foreign world of home cooks who are able to just know what will and will not work.
I'm not ready to give up the recipes just yet, but I do plan on straying...
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