As a rule, I don’t make New Year’s resolutions.

New Year’s resolutions were made to be broken, or worse, completely abandoned.  Do you know anyone who has ever actually kept a New Year’s resolution throughout an entire year?   I don’t.  The problem is that in order to carry out a resolution, there needs to be a certain urgent and necessary motivation to sustain it.  Most of us create a resolution at New Year’s because it’s often a time of reflecting on our successes and trials over the past year, and so wanting to become better we say we are going to improve ourselves this year through “x”.  It all seems well and good, but if you really felt a need to alter your life in some form, would you have waited all the way until New Year’s to make that happen?

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Read the rest of On Resolutions.

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Last month, Michael Rulhman asked the world, “Why do you cook?”.

Before figuring out why we cook, I think it’s worth examining our relationship with food – the two are quite related.

Now I’m not sure what constitutes a “normal” relationship with food, but as time has gone by I am getting the impression that having a relationship with food at all is becoming more and more scarce.  I just got done watching Jamie Oliver’s TED Prize wish: Teach every child about food … and was blown away at how many people in our society have no idea what food is, and the negative impact that results.  I literally cannot imagine what life would be like without such a relationship, and it is so disheartening to think that some people will grow up and never know what food really is, or take joy in even the simplest of pleasures like biting into a fresh juicy strawberry that was freshly picked that morning.  After watching that, I feel now like I am trying to preserve some lost art in my daily act of cooking food.  Through every crack of an egg, every stew happily bubbling away, every soft peel of an apple, I acknowledge that my life is linked to the food I eat, and I think how we prepare our food can be quite revealing about exactly what that relationship is.

The art – or is it science? I never can tell – no, it’s the magic – the magic of cooking is that one can start with basic and humble, yet very real ingredients, and somehow transform into an entity capable of invoking joy, laughter, or tears – maybe all three even.  The process alone is a series of little miracles that I never tire of witnessing.  Even creating a delicate little cookie can bring me to my knees, and when I step back and think about it, it’s incredible really.  Who first figured out that egg whites, when prepped and baked with care, made such delectable little creatures?  What was it like to be in that chef’s kitchen the first time he/she saw feet grow out from the little almond disks?  Did they also scream and giggle with joy like a six year old, dancing around the room and hugging everyone around (because that surely was me)?  And did they discover the same lessons of patience and resolve as I did when attempting to make mine?  Maybe I’m a bit unique here, but I always feel a child-like sense of wonder when I get to be lucky enough to make such little miracles come into reality.

You see, for me, cooking is not just about filling a plate with enough calories to last until the next meal.  Each food has a story, a story that probably started long before you or me, and one which continues, ever evolving each time it is made and shared with family or friends.  Cooking allows that story to continue and grow.  It does not have to be fancy, but what we cook and serve to others is an extension of ourselves.  I try put my heart into my food as much as any lovestruck soul pours out their confessions to their beloved in a loveletter.  I think my husband sees that.  He sure knows I’m not the romantic type to wish for roses or diamonds – ha I’m way to practical for that – but we pride ourselves on the fact that it is the little things, found in the everyday routines of our lives, where we most show our love to each other.  The way of preparing food is a very personal act, and one that is a reflection of and an extension of our own identities, emotions, and aspirations.  What we cook and how we chose to cook it is defined by our past experiences, our hopes and desires, where we came from and what we learned along the way.  Anyone who tells you that cooking is not a personal journey is deeply mistaken.  Through cooking, I have learned how to find myself.

I believe our relationship with food is not just personal but also collective – because food is one of the major defining aspects of a culture – not just what is eaten, but how – during which occasions, how it is prepped, with whom it is shared, and what traditions come attached.  Food is so engrained in the human way of life that even simple things like the thought of fresh apple pie conjures up myriad memories – the first that come to mind are family dinners when I was a kid – I think of my dad trying to keep the beautiful white crisp Cortlands from being gobbled up by all of us before he had the chance to nestle the slices into his pie (what can I say, Cortlands are my favorite!); then I envision my grandmother trying to discreetly sneak the puppy scraps under the table (though I saw anyways, I wasn’t going to tell), and instantly wish she were still here so that we could crack silly jokes together that no one else understands – and then I was always laughing at my younger sister who insisted on putting ranch dressing on top of everything she ate, including the turkey.  Ha I never could stand ranch dressing – but for some reason I’ve been craving it ever since I moved overseas, I think because I miss being able to talk with her whenever I want, even if it’s just about stupid stuff.  How does that entire flood of emotions and memories, which invariably link to other feelings and experiences in my life, come from one silly little thought of a pie?  It’s because the food we make is inextricably tied to the memories surrounding it.  No matter what, food will always create strong connections.  When we make and share food with others, we are not just sharing what is on the plate.  We are sharing ourselves, and transforming each other.

So why do I cook?  I cook to eat, I cook to love, I cook to share, to have fun, to remember, to learn, to see, and to create. Even when we realize exactly what it means to be an ocean away from so many treasured friends and family, we cook and recreate just a little bit of “home”, a little compass to guide us when the two of us are feeling very much alone.

So I cook.  I will keep cooking.  For we are not just about looking back in the past, but looking forward as well.  We will make new friends, create new memories, and continue to share with each other – and chances are, cooking will be involved and our lives will continue to be enriched by this fantastic opportunity that we have being here.

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Dianne Jacob is a celebrated food writer who led a workshop at Food Blogger Camp on writing (which, by the way, I would LOVE to attend one of these someday).  While I did not go to Food Blogger Camp, I saw her post about the workshop and her writing contest, challenging people to write sensuously, or rather, about bringing the senses into one’s writing.  The goal was to “get readers to see it, smell it, hear it, touch it and taste it in their minds.”  While I didn’t win or even get a mention, I had a lot of fun with this exercise.  Here was my entry -

The chocolat aux noisettes morsel sat patiently, inviting, just waiting for me to embrace it with my lips. Already I can feel the outer shell melting in my hands, a grim reminder of its coming end. Subtly aromatic, the chocolate calls to me, whispering sweet nothings for my nose. Like a fine wine maturing into its prime, I bring it close and take a deep breath. My tongue dances as my taste-buds ache with anticipation. I open my mouth and begin to take a bite, liberating the soft delicate ganache imprisoned inside. An exploding concert of flavors and textures hits me, first the smooth creamy sweet of the chocolate and then the small crunch of lingering hazelnut bliss. Only I and the chocolate exist during our transient acquaintance. Then, all is silent. As suddenly as it began, the flavor quickly extinguishes, one last gift of pure joy.

This little 147 word paragraph seemed so easy to write until I actually sat down and tried to literally pry words out of my head and onto my laptop screen.  For all the effort I put in wracking my brain for words that just wouldn’t come, I might  as well have tried to pull the sword in the stone out of its merciless rock.  Let’s just say writing does not come naturally to me.  At least, not writing that requires abstract thought of any kind.  Maybe that is the scientist in me.  If you want to me describe a result of an experiment and its relevance in the scientific community, ok.  But then metaphor and simile don’t really find themselves at home in scientific literature (with good reason).  However, ask me to describe something as primal and emotional as the act of eating food, and I feel like I am sitting at my desk in 6th grade all over again writing those essays for standardized tests.

In fact, until this blog, I avoided writing at almost all costs.  I think my last actual writing class was in high school lol.  My past English teachers would probably cringe at that fact.  In college I did take a couple of great literature classes (afterall I do love to read), but I somehow managed to escape all of the writing ones, using my few electives on other topics that interested me more at the time (like statistics and math! oh yes I am a nerd).

Despite my lifelong aversion to what I have often envisioned as a rather tortuous task, over the course of this blog I have actually come to really enjoy writing.  There, I said it.  I like writing.  It’s still difficult for me.  But I love how words can be used to convey so many things (if you can find the right ones and put them in the right order), and how food is a constant in our lives that touches all the great moments worth writing about.  There is so much that I want to be able to articulate to you, the reader, and with time, albeit slowly, I feel like I am getting better and better at doing just that, and actually starting to find something of my voice and style.

Why do I write?  Why not just post a pretty picture and a recipe?  Because I love exploring the flavor of food.  Taste is such an ephemeral thing, which I think is why communicating it is so hard.  But it is essential to communicate that taste and the experience that surrounds the food, because while pictures are pretty, how else are you going to understand why I liked eating/cooking/serving what I did?  Food blogging, at least to me, is more than just putting up a recipe with a picture.  It’s about sharing and writing.  The writing should never be neglected in a blog, especially a food blog.  It is as important as any recipe or picture.

It doesn’t matter that I didn’t win.  Ok, it does matter.  I am sure winning some time with Dianne Jacob could have definitely helped me in a gazillion ways, probably more than I can even bring to mind at the moment.  But, for me, this little writing contest went beyond simply causing me to spend some time coming up with a paragraph about my favorite chocolate in the world (well, as of now – there are still I don’t know, about 20,000 more kinds here in Switzerland to try) – it helped me realize the importance that I place on quality writing, and helped remind me of my goals with this blog.  I hope my writing has improved since I started.  And, along with my cooking and my photography, I hope it continues to do so, if only so I can better talk about delicious food and their place in my life memories – so that you can see and understand a little more of me, and how cooking and eating find their way in so many other themes of this world, and in the end, maybe learn a little bit more about yourself in the process and make some memories of your own.

So thank you, Dianne Jacob, for hosting this contest.  My set of 147 words up there did a lot more than sit in your comments section as just another entry.  Somehow the process was completely inspiring and motivating.  I never expected that when I originally decided to enter, and it was an extremely pleasant surprise.

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Dine and Dish is hosting her 3rd annual Adopt-a-Blogger program, and I got to adopt Amy over at Playing House! Newbies and veterans (over 1 year) were matched up with each other for a 3 month long mentoring program.  I always feel like I am learning about blogging in the foodie community, but I have picked up some tips as I have gotten more into the blogging thing, and thought I could help someone out.  Amy and I seem to have hit it off really well together, and I think I may get just as much out of this as she will!  She is a newlywed in the Pacific NW, and loves taking pictures as much as I do, which is awesome.  She also participates in a CSA program to get yummy fresh local produce each week, so she is totally conscious about the ethics of food and where it comes from as well.  I’ve added her to my blogroll on the right, so feel free to check out her blog!  I’m really looking forward to these next few months talking with Amy, I think it’s going to be a very cool blogging relationship

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So 12pm has passed over in Pacific Time, and I am clearly not the winner of the Marx Food Dried Morel Challenge…Congrats to the Morel & Leek Strata with Lemon Thyme Biscuits, this recipe really does look delicious, and I think I could easily adapt the biscuits to be gluten free and try this recipe out sometime.

However I want to give a big Thank You! to all of my loyal readers and friends and all those who decided I was worthy of their vote!  I really appreciate all the support that my readers, friends and family gave me, and I look forward to sharing more recipes with you all.

Maybe next time!  Now I just need to find the places to go morel hunting here , and then I can bring you all more tasty morel recipes!  I think I’d like to try out some stuffed morel recipes as my next adventure in morel land…

However, throughout the course of this competition I did a lot of browsing on Marx Food’s website.  They sell some amazing stuff!  I am drooling over all of their wild produce that is now in season, fun foods like fiddlehead ferns and stinging nettles, the Black Oregon Truffles, and the New Zealand lamb.  If you ever get a chance to eat NZ lamb or go to NZ and have lamb (especially freshly prepared on the barbie), definitely do not turn down the opportunity.  The best lamb I ever ate was in NZ.  In fact, NZ is just paradise on earth, go and visit!

I really enjoyed participating in this challenge, even if I learned that I am not quite popular enough in the internet world to really compete.  I learned a lot, got to enjoy an ounce of dried morels for free, had a great Easter sharing the ravioli with my in-laws, and perfected a GF pasta recipe that really does work!  If I get a chance to participate in another recipe challenge competition, I think I definitely will!

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