Why I'm a foodie (and a terrible blogger).

There are many things that I'm interested in, but if there's one thing that everyone knows me for, it's food. I love food. I love to eat it, cook it, read about it, look at it, poke at it, experiment with it. You name it, I do it (nothing kinky, don't be gross). People call me a foodie. While it's hardly the only thing I want to known for (don't we all want to be well-rounded folks?), it's certainly something that defines me. If I could, with limitless funding and a lot of free time, I would travel the world, discovering local cuisines and cultures. But my trajectory to my present relationship with food and all things food-related was a slow and winding one. Not because I didn't enjoy my meals and food experiences as a child, but I didn't know how good I had it until I left it. I was lucky enough to grow up in a developing country (once known as Third World, no longer PC). I'm sure that's something most people in the developed world would consider a strange sentiment, but food-wise, you really couldn't have it better. Sure, as a child and a teenager in Thailand I had my taste of processed foods, which was quite readily available. After all, hasn't McDonald's taken over the world? But at home, in my mother's kitchen, it made a limited appearance at best. Our meals were cooked from scratch with produce bought from the wet market weekly (Times have changed but that's another story). I never knew the taste of canned vegetables or Hamburger Helper. My parents enjoyed food, and never made me eat a child's meal. I could have what they were eating, and they were adventurous eaters who liked trying new things and introducing their children to it. I didn't know this was unusual until a friend of mine told me that it was amazing that I ate things my parents didn't eat since she only liked the same things her mother liked.

It was only after moving to the US, that my eyes were opened to this new and exciting world of processed food. So many things came in cans and boxes. Now let me just say, full disclosure, I'm not a organic snob, and I certainly do regularly use some processed products, like pasta sauce and canned beans (and I have a real guilty pleasure in Asian instant ramen). It's impossible to avoid, especially if you don't have a lot of time on your hands to cook everyday, but also it's not all bad for you. Life is a balancing act, and I certainly am no advocate of going back to times of yore to eat/cook like my ancestors. We're in the 21st century, and we've just got to roll with it. However, the choices here far surpassed anything I had seen or tried before. Like the novice that I was, I blindly grasped at bright packaging and marketing ploys of convenience.

I remember so distinctly the first time I tried canned green beans because the revulsion I felt was unreal. You think I exaggerate, but I don't. It isn't that I don't have a natural aversion to eating certain foods, it was just that these green beans were nothing like any green bean I have ever eaten before. I felt like I had been tricked, had the wool pulled over my eyes. Who in their right mind would call this pile of mushy tastelessness green beans?! It was an insult to green beans everywhere. Suddenly, I was in for a steep learning curve of foods to avoid at the supermarket. It included most canned vegetables, and boxed mac and cheese, which I have tried with all my might to like but failed tremendously, although as a college student and a young professional I have definitely eaten my share.

As I've grown older and have gotten the opportunity to try some really top notch food (haute cuisine, home cooking, holes-in-the-wall, you name it, I'll try it), I've been inching over to a food philosophy that encompasses mostly fresh produce and meat, and cooking at home. I've found that I can re-create dishes that I've eaten elsewhere myself at home, and that it didn't take a chef's training. Sure, mine wouldn't be as pretty, and certainly I'm a long way's away from being a 5-star chef, but hey, my own cooking, it doesn't taste so bad. And on my good days, it actually tastes pretty darn good. I get to add things I like, omit things I don't, play around with concepts, celebrate successes, cry over failures and then try again. I get such a sense of satisfaction when I look at a completed dish and know that it was my hands that brought it to life. And then to taste it and savor it, acknowledging the fruits of my labor, well, my chest just puffs a little. There's nothing like cooking to give you so much return for really what is so little effort. You get to see your work unfold before you in a matter of minutes (or sometimes hours!), and as you take a bite, surely you can't help but feel the tiny tug that connects you to nature, a link that keeps all of us spinning on the circle of life (thanks, Lion King).

So there it is, folks. A condensed version of my journey to where I am today, a fledgling foodie, making tiny steps forward with so much more to learn, but enjoying it every single day. I guess I didn't really address why I'm a terrible blogger, but the reason is quite short and sweet. I just don't really like to write that much. Wouldn't have known it to read this entry, now wouldja?