When I was about four years old, an aunt asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. Astride my tricycle, I proudly exclaimed, “I wanna be an artist!” My aunt frowned and then laughed derisively and told me I would surely starve, and then she encouraged me to consider being a lawyer or doctor or something.
I listened to my aunt, shelved the idea of being an artist, and grew up. After decades of crushingly unsatisfying jobs and pursuits, I figured being a starving artist was better than being an unhappy wage slave. So, here I am, blogging about food. Ha! Sorry, auntie.
All text, recipes, and photographs are by me – unless otherwise noted.