In search of a hobby, I started teaching myself how to cook in November 2009. I skipped the usual training wheels and went straight to stuffed pork tenderloin and other intricate recipes most people never try, much less eat. If it was complicated and rich, I made it. I even mastered cream sauces. My favorite thing to make was desserts.
I started sharing my nightly dinner menus in facebook status updates and friends begged for recipes... well, actually, they begged for invitations to dinner!
Everyone thinks I slave away in my kitchen all day, but the notion that cooking is a difficult, time-consuming, horribly expensive, degrading chore that chains a person to a stove is a load of mularkey stemming from years of exposure to highly successful marketing campaigns for prepared foods. I am continously surprised by how quick, easy, and inexpensive it is to make incredibly good "real food."
I started sharing my nightly dinner menus in facebook status updates and friends begged for recipes... well, actually, they begged for invitations to dinner!
Everyone thinks I slave away in my kitchen all day, but the notion that cooking is a difficult, time-consuming, horribly expensive, degrading chore that chains a person to a stove is a load of mularkey stemming from years of exposure to highly successful marketing campaigns for prepared foods. I am continously surprised by how quick, easy, and inexpensive it is to make incredibly good "real food."
In May 2010 when I announced I was going to try a vegan diet, my husband nearly passed out from laughter. My beloved Wisconsin is, after all, America's dairyland and I brave these winters to be near the source. Salads simply don't stick to your ribs in -10°F weather unless you load them up with hot bacon dressing and medium rare filet mignon.
Once he finally regained his composure, my husband assured me he was not eating that "weird granola-hugger crap." For the sake of continued domestic tranquility, we joked that I became a Vegan con Carne.
