I suppose I should start this blog with a little explanation of what it is.
Here’s the deal…I’m obsessed with food. When I was a tween, during summers and weekends, I would stay up at night and cook things my mom wouldn’t let me make during the day. Sometimes she knew, most times she didn’t…she eventually resigned to the idea and just asked that I clean up when I was done. As for what I do, I sell full spectrum hemp oil. If you’re not sure what it is just check out the link. It’s a similar thing to the other cannabis products on the market, in short. You know, like rosin wax and the like. The difference is it is edible so you can just injest it rather than smoke it.
Simply by following recipes and using the trusty Better Homes & Gardens cookbook, which included basic method instructions, I made all kinds of wonderful things. Cookies. Taffy. Wonton soup. And eventually, things like chocolate soufflé.
Even then, I found myself leaning toward the extravagant, more challenging side of cooking.
Fast forward ten years or so.
Having also found a passion and talent for writing as a child, I followed that path until it landed me at Arkansas State University as a Journalism major, with an emphasis in public relations. I loved the broad-spectrum nature of public relations and marketing (still do), and chased a career through the agency, non-profit and consulting worlds.
And then….there was my daughter.
My beloved daughter. She is seven today, and is the model of all things you would wish a child would be, most days. But as a baby, she just about killed me.
She was born a little early, about a month. Just enough to be “fully cooked,” but just short of a fully evened-out nervous system, as I read later on. Result: screaming colic until 4 a.m. daily.
What does this have to do with food, you may ask? Well, while I was trying to maintain my sanity on no sleep, I discovered Food Network.
To this day, “Good Eats” reminds me of early evenings, rocking her at the beginning of our daily showdown. “Unwrapped” was the midnight struggle toward the bed. And “Emeril Live” was victory…late afternoon, after a tiny bit of sleep and enough time to sort of recover and feel a little human.
Emeril and I became good friends. When I finally got human enough to start cooking real meals again, about six months into the baby ordeal, my hubby was eating quite well.
And I rediscovered my old flame. (Cooking, that is.)
Today I find myself in new phase of life, one in which the possibilities are limitless. With a loving hubby, baby #2 (a boy, who actually SLEEPS!) and a little experience under my belt, I am hoping I can tie all my loves into one digital adventure.
I thought I would invite you along on my journey to culinary nirvana. Won’t you come along?