I love to eat.
I remember back in the beginning of high school (really not that long ago), the glare I received from my little sister's baby-sitter as I brought up an ravaged, empty, cheese-encrusted nacho plate from my room, only to snag a tub of cookies 'n cream ice cream from the freezer with one grubby hand, two slices of pizza in the other.
She stood with her hand on her hip as she told me, snarkily, "You know, Kasandra, if you keep eating like that, when you hit puberty, you're going to blow up."
I turned around, grabbing the Nesquik, and replied, "Well, 'till then, I'm gonna have to live it up."
Oh, and I did. And I have. I don't know when (or if) I ever really hit puberty, and while I can't claim to be as stringbean-y as I was in my hey day, I haven't hit the helium stages yet.
My tastes of course, have matured with my body. While I still have more sweet teeth than any other kind, I can always appreciate a good, delicious meal. And without my chef-in-residence brother around to cater to my stomach's every whim, nor a checkbook equipped with the means to cover nightly extravagant dinners out, I'm left with two hands, a fridge, an oven... and the internet. My mother kindly passed down the homemaker's tradition with a gifted Betty Crocker cookbook last year, and I kindly shoved it atop the fridge to gather dust alongside dishwasher warranties and vacuum manuals.
Instead, I've turned to a much more interactive, innovative, experimental (ok, and prettier) source―the food blog.
Tonight I dragged my favorite foodie friend out (or rather, in, as staying in is lately my favorite) to help indulge in some deep-dish apple pancakes a la mode. Mm, a veritable masterpiece, best when seconds (and, inevitably, thirds and fourths) are shared. Of course, I shovel much faster than I snap photos and could never manage to start a food blog of my own, but I'll happily turn a friend's hungry head in their direction.
And so, a few of my favorites:
Closet Cooking. Young guy from Toronto, often cooks for one. Perhaps we're soul (food) mates? Who else could make a 13-word recipe title sound so enticing? (Roasted Butternut Squash and Caramelized Onion Pizza with Gorgonzola and Crispy Fried Sage)
Love and Olive Oil. Misleading Italian name, not entirely devoted to C-A-R-B-S. Wondefully scrumptious cupcakes.
Pinch My Salt caught my attention with the cheeky name, and then further irked my inklings with a real recipe for sweet potato fries. Can't... resist....
Now, if you get caught up in the vicous cycle of food blogs, don't delusion yourself of your desires. Indulge, once, maybe twice. But a tip of advice from my personal pool? Don't get really 'heavy' into the desserts section a week before your bikini'd beach vacation. You'll pay for it at the gym, and in the pictures. Ok?