I grew up in a family where food wasn’t just a means to survive. It was a family affair, party, shindig – whatever you want to call it. I loved it, every spice, chop, smell, sizzle and taste. At one point, I was so head over heels that I wanted to be a chef when I grew up. That is, until I realized I’m not the happiest person when I mess something up.
Although I didn’t pursue the chef path, I still enjoy cooking. I’m 21-years-old and have the kitchen appliances of a grown adult. I mean, who doesn’t appreciate good food?
Once I got to college, I realized that cooking what I had for my siblings (2) and myself was too much food for only me. Now, I’m living on my own (with a roommate.) On January 10, 2014 I made a pot of chili and realized I’d be eating it for the next week. Then, this blog was born.