Shanghai, take a bao

by Stephanie

I'm just going to put this out there--I am a terrible blogger. I have serious problems posting regularly and often, two things that make a good blogger. And I don't love taking pictures of food (I'd rather eat it while it's hot and tell you about it later). I'm trying, I really am. But I do absolutely love the writing that goes into these as well as the promise of eating the results of said experiments. I think those are what keep me going on this thing. (Slight nudge to Lisa who has been a little MIA for the past 50 years)

That said, Shanghai happened. By happened I mean we thought it would be fun to take a weekend jaunt to Shanghai, a glamorous city beyond comprehension for us country bumpkins. I was humbled by the sheer volume of the city--18 million residents and far more modernity than I imagined. The city is an interesting example of the East and West trying to blend (and the West somewhat winning in dominance). That fact was more than slightly okay with me because I have really been missing my western food. Yes, I'm admitting it. I put myself in charge of food on the trip and found some really exciting places that warmed my heart and will hopefully fulfill the quota for a while.

One thing I have been missing dearly (and this will come as no surprise to anyone) is not just good coffee but also cafe culture. Berkeley is so in step with this, and so it has been greatly jarring to my system to not be able to step outside my door and get a foamy latte at Strada before embarking on my school day. I found this French bakery that somehow made its way to Shanghai--and for an hour or so I was able to re-immerse myself in the art of cafe-ing.

The last capp I'll have for a while

me, Jena, Ellen being cutesy and adorable for the camera

We also visited Ellen's research site, which is this adorable enclave of twisting alleys, cafes, and other commercial things that come with gentrification. Another East meets West example.

That was very well and fun. We topped off the night with a ridiculous dinner at the rotating restaurant at the top of the Radisson: smoked salmon pasta, aloo gobi, and garlic naan never tasted so good.

credit: Jena

But there was a Shanghainese specialty that still eluded us: one of the chief reasons I went was for the xiao long bao, which some have described as "seductive". Is food sexy? These must maintain a precarious balance that far too many establishments have not been able to reach. The skin must be of the right thickness, only melting in your mouth and NOT the steamer basket. The meat cannot too overpowering in taste, for the highlight must be the soup inside, which should be piping HOT, delicately scented . And it should all slide down your throat like a beautiful dream. After a bad experience with the little soup dumplings/buns/jury's still out on how to categorize these, I was ready for the real thing.


Friends, they were delightful. More than that. I built them up so much in my mind because I knew they had incredible potential--there are people out there who scour the globe for the best xiao long bao--and they didn't disappoint. Shanghai did not disappoint.

Blackberries break on through

by Stephanie

So I’ve now been in this country for close to two months now. 54 days to be exact. It’s so hard to really explain to you over the internet what it feels like to not live in the US, to not be constantly surrounded by the comforts I think are home. I’ve never done anything like this before, so I really have nothing to compare it to. Even my update newsletter, which is supposed to be this grand sweeping exegesis detailing succinctly exactly what I’ve been doing for the month of September, is pretty shoddy because it’s just so hard to describe the sights, the sounds, the smells. Oh the smells. They run the gamut from freshly fried “donuts” right outside our apartment in the morning to garbage...lots and lots of garbage. Everywhere, everywhere. Okay, not everywhere (as evidenced by the photo above), but do not be deceived; there is a lot.

But what comes most to mind right now is something I received right before I left home way back in late August. You see, I’m kind of picky about the types of fruit I will eat (and up until now, most berries have been on the no list), and so when I discovered last summer that I actually enjoy the gentle sweet/sour flavor of the blackberry, I felt victorious and freed from my former habits. Modesto blackberries are awesome. And these berries taught me a few lessons before I left home this past August.

One thing I’ve noticed about blackberries is that inevitably a few of them will bruise and smoosh in your bag/bowl/fridge. These are the softer, riper ones. They are also, as I have found, dramatically sweeter than the firmer ones, and infinitely more wonderful in my opinion. To be frank, my life is a little bit of a mess right now. Somehow, the harrowing questions of What I will do with myself next year? and How I will go about doing that? eclipse the beauty of the moment, this year in Asia. There also exist the strange little things that creep around in the burrows of my heart that whisper, What if you’re not ready for that? or Seriously? (That one is more prevalent than I would like.) Add to that the utter confusion that generally accompanies one’s entry into a foreign land completely different than one’s own, and I can say that my life, right now, feels like it’s taken a small beating. I know I’m better for it, though. (Process of growing up, I see you! Don’t even try to hide.)

Another element of growing up is learning how to be fully responsible for the stuff you have to do. Sounds easy, but obviously since the vast majority of people are still incapable of doing this, I have wiggle room. The night before I left, I was in a frantic rush trying to pack all the things I should have tucked away about a week before (procrastination a giant barrier to the aforementioned element of growing up). My mom knew what a difficult time I was having trying to wrangle a year’s worth of belongings into a mere two suitcases. So when she showed up in my doorway with a bowl full of consolatory end-of-summer blackberries, I started to cry. Not the heaving sobs type, but the pathetic tiny sniffles that mean only one thing: I am not going to see my mommy for a year, and I will miss her.

Joy comes unexpectedly

by Stephanie

Whether you're actively looking for them or not, life's little surprises will get you--oh, they will. Some are good and some are wrinkle-your-nose not-so-good, but the joys produced by the first kind tend to override the disappointments of the others. Good thing too--I have wallowed more than my fair share in my various clouds of melancholia. But when joy, wonder, unexpected blessings shine their way into my life, I can do nothing but gaze skyward and whisper, "Thank you thank you thank you thank you" (who says that prayers have to be complicated?)

This past weekend the family took a little trip to the Monterey Bay region. The ocean (and other related scenery) were gorgeous as always, although the food is always the star of the show. A new (to me) spot was La Bicyclette, a place where the salad/soup are family-style but you have your own entree--I had the most luscious carrot soup of my life as well as this fabulous pot of chocolate mousse (they claim it's for 2, but I'll claim that it could be for 8 and I ate at least 6.5 persons' worth...) The interior was so cute and cottage-y, and did I mention the chocolate mousse was unbelievable? Okay. I love Carmel. And I love La Bicyclette so much I didn't mind too much that we didn't go to my favorite restaurant probably in the whole world, Casanova, this time around.

Things I've attempted: choux pastry (it never rises like I want it to! Why?!), these infamous cookies which I saw featured on this blog, quite probably the biggest food blog influence in my life. Lisa's too. (We like to pretend we are on a first name basis with the author and her husband...of course we're weird!) The cookies were amazing. I will now let all my cookie dough rest at least 24 hours before baking. However, that does allow a lot more time for the dough to be eaten and not baked...

Some less-than-great surprises: a little car mishap in Berkeley that is resulting in a very large price tag, Sylvester my cactus dying, but most salient right now is this. (Before you start to narrow your eyes in disgust that I even mention the S-word of coffee on this hallowed ground, please know that not all of us grew up in places with an abundance of cafe culture. Starbucks introduced me to espresso when I was just a silly junior high kid with no concept of coffee. It also enabled me to see that there is much better out there.) But back onto the topic. I did not care a ton about 600 Starbucks stores closing, but then I took a closer look at the list and was promptly saddened. First, there is the Standiford & Tully store closing, which miffed me a little because it is spacious and happy and orange and the closest place to home. But then...the Berkeley Shattuck & Cedar store, nicknamed "the faraway Starbucks" by yours truly, the site of so many memories...I am sad to see it go. It was a place of retreat for me, where lots of hangout with friends and Jesus and even studying happened. It was also the place where Lisa found out she would be a hot 50 year old woman...dearest faraway Starbucks. I suppose this is one of those times when I just need to buck up and realize that Berkeley is not obligated to stay the same, in fact can't stay the same...but I can look back on all the very wonderful times and take joy in all of them.


update: In addition to a dead cactus, my mother and I also managed today to kill our fish. We were cleaning his water and he managed to jump out of the bowl and into the sink. I had to turn the disposal on him. Hoping there is joy somewhere to be found here...

There is no theme to this post

by Stephanie


It seems that I haven't posted in over 2 months. Thanks, Lisa, for picking up my pathetic slack. Hmm, let's see, the excuses for the absence: I graduated from college (note the ceremonial leis), moved back home, am currently working on raising support to go overseas next year...not good enough reasons. (I actually misplaced my USB cable, which prevents photo uploading to computer. And you think, Steph--how lame do you get?) What have I been doing, food-wise and etc-wise, exactly? No easy answer, so here are some highlights that were chosen because I have accompanying photographic evidence.

First, a little surprise outing for some Very Special Little Sisters to Lovejoy's Tea Room in San Francisco, lovingly planned by Teresa and me. They thought we were kidding when we told them to bring blindfolds. Dressing up for little feminine jaunts like this is just one of the many things I'll miss about being in a sorority. The people, of course, I'll miss most (here: Natalie, on the left...my beautiful, beautiful little sis and Steph, my honorary little because we are the same person, waiting outside the place, which induced many giggles from passers-by.)


I'm in Modesto (my hometown) for the summer. It is an ever-growing town (or city?) with over 200,000 residents and continuing. But its roots reside in agriculture, and this is never more prominent than in the summer, when fruit stands are at their best as their proud displays burst with splashes of color--plums, peaches, nectarines, apricots, pluots. And cherries. OH the cherries. I've been chomping through bags and bags of them since I returned home in late May. My favorite is called Fidel's, and every time I go the lady who works there smiles warmly at me and playfully chastises me if I take only one bag because inevitably I will be back the same day for more.


Here's something I've actually done: individual chocolate souffles with a 9.7 oz Scharffen Berger home baking bar (70% bittersweet, of course, acquired from the delicious Scharffen Berger factory tour) for my friends Heather and Kristen from Oklahoma who visited for a couple weeks back in June. They were a little dense. I had a hard time deciding when to take them out of the oven because my ramekins are different sizes and how high are they supposed to rise anyway and I wanted them to be perfect...but we managed though, and everything tasted a little sweeter with some homemade whipped cream.


Does anyone know why my pictures are turning out all blurry? Is it the lighting, the fact that I can't hold my arm steady when I take a picture, or that my camera is 4 years old and I've more or less thrown it around rather roughly for those 4 years and it wants to quit?

Portland stole my heart

by Stephanie


It is such a beautiful place. 2 weeks later, I'm still in awe. (Let's not focus on the fact that it's taken me 2 weeks to post.) It's so green! So laid back! So many Subarus! (By the way, the last point does not really excite me at all. It was just an observation.) Anyway, enough with the parentheses, I'm sure you want the dirt on Portland.

The thing is, there is no dirt. Well, none that I saw. Locals were so nice to my roommate and me when we looked lost; the coffee was bordering on Blue Bottle status, and Powell's is a 4 story bookstore that takes up an entire city block. Why did I leave you Portland, why.

My World Cup Coffee cafe au lait...delightful.

Flowers at the Portland Farmer's Market, located at Portland State University on Saturdays. There was a hyper-abundance of tulips and poppies, which made me oh so happy. The roommate and I made a lunch out of chive pesto, a demi-baguette, Bosc pears, and a huge cookie for dessert.

Next up was Reed College, where I hung around in hopes of running into Donald Miller. (Mark my words; next time we meet for sure.)

There is this gorgeous lake behind the campus that provides the perfect backdrop for quiet contemplation and the like. I had a really hard time capturing with my camera how lovely the atmosphere is here. My soul felt quiet and at rest.



You can wikipedia Renn Fayre if you're curious...just another crazy differentiating feature that separates Reed from pretty much every other college campus in the world.

"Hi, our name is adorable Portland doggie chocolates! Take us home with you!"

This is the last picture I took before my camera battery pooped out on me. I consider Saint Cupcake amazing because I actually loved the cupcake frosting. I really don't like frosting, so this was huge.

Oh Portland, thank you for a lovely time. I will be back; a gem of a city like you is too good to ignore for long.

You know you're slightly addicted to food blogging when...

by Stephanie

...you create an absolute disaster in the kitchen and your first thought is "Do I want to blog about this?"

Readers, I feel like I am not that uptight of a person. My room is usually an organized mess, minus the organized part, and you know, I enjoy going with the flow and laughing at what happens along the way. But last Saturday night...oh goodness. A veritable disaster. My mother put me in charge of the Easter dessert, and I had all these visions in my head of a 13-layer cake complete with sugared pansies and the most perfect fondant hands could create. Kidding. But I did have the ambition to make a marble cake, and that all came crumbling (ha) down when my mom took the cake out of the oven 20 minutes before it was due to be done and called out, "Honey...I can't get it out of the pan." The cake was completely rock hard. I went over the recipe later, which called for milk in the ingredient list but never included when it was to be added in the procedure part...and so I completely forgot about it and never included the milk. Ugh, ugh, ugh. Talk about perfectionism rearing its ugly head. I have never been so upset about failure before. Baking is my thing. I don't do the whole botched cake thing. Was the world coming to an end?

At my wit's end (it was 1:30 am, people), I decided to make the brownie recipe on the back of the King Arthur unbleached all-purpose flour bag. And they were wonderful indeed. I suppose even failures can be fortuitous at times. Because when push comes to shove, even a 13-layer cake can't top a hot fudge brownie sundae on Easter Sunday.

(according to the King Arthur flour bag) The Best Fudge Brownies Ever

1 cup butter
2 1/4 cups sugar
1 1/4 cups Dutch-process cocoa
1/2 teaspoon salt (inc. to 1 tsp if using unsalted butter, which you should be doing anyway)
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 tablespoon vanilla extract
4 large eggs
1 1/2 cups King Arthur unbleached all-purpose flour (the good stuff, none of this whole wheat stuff, seriously)
2 cups chocolate chips (I chopped up one 4 oz. bar and got too tired to do the rest. It was still good)

Preheat the oven to 350. Lightly grease a 9x13 pan.

In a saucepan set over low heat, melt the butter, then add the sugar and stir to combine. Return the mixture to the heat briefly, just until it's hot but not bubbling. It'll become more shiny as you stir. Transfer the mixture to a mixing bowl.

Stir in the cocoa, salt, baking powder, and vanilla. Add the eggs, beating until smooth; then add the flour and chocolate, beating until well combined. Spoon the batter into the prepared pan.

Bake for 28-30 minutes or until a toothpick in the middle comes out clean.

No pictures from that little event, but here are pretty flowers from the City! Specifically, Bi-Rite Market (adorable).

touring my City

by Stephanie

Yes, I know, I have been absent from this blog for quite some time. But it's not my fault, really it's not. It's not my fault that Lisa has all this pent-up creativity and therefore has constant material to blog about, and it's certainly not my fault that I have no kitchen facilities at this house! I was thinking about the loveiscooking title of this blog, and how I rarely cook nowadays (when I get really hungry, like tonight, I call Lisa and bug her to cook for me). So, it's almost like for Lisa, loveiscooking, and for me...loveisbeingcookedfor? I know that's bad grammar, but you should bear with me because I have some fun stuff coming up.

So this entry is definitely less about cooking and food, and more about the things that I see. I'm currently interning at the Burt Children's Center, which is this incredible place for kids in need, and I will most likely have a lot more to say about it later, but for now...a few snapshots of the City (capitalized because it's the best city in the world...that is, San Francisco). The kids live in this huge renovated Victorian house and it is just gorgeous.

(check out that blue sky!)

Just across the street is Alamo Square, this gorgeous park with amazing views.

So if you grew up in the 90's like me, you definitely remember the TV show Full House. This is the exact lawn (I think?) where they run down in the beginning sequence!



I made friends with this doggy! There's a special section in the park where you can let your doggies run around unleashed and where I can pretend that your doggies are my doggies!

And then I went to this place I've been eyeing for quite some time. As a very recent Yelp convert, I kept reading about this place, this place that draws tons of raves from people, especially people who are obsessed with coffee. And so I decided on my way back from BCC that I would stop by because I am also obsessed with coffee. In short, it was amazing. I will say that I felt more than a little out of place because I am not a thirty-something San Francisco hipster. And after being in college for almost four years, it is weird to hang out with people who are older than 20. But it is a magical place, the very newly opened Blue Bottle Coffee cafe.



So Real Good coffee doesn't actually taste bitter; the bitterness comes from all this other gunk that manages to afflict most coffee around here. Blue Bottle coffee was slightly sweet, and with a bit of half & half it managed to be almost perfect. I love how the coffee here reflects the building up above.

Now this thing was incredible. (Notice how my vocabulary does not fall outside of words like "amazing" and "incredible". If you'd like some new words, inform me please.) I had never seen one of these things before...they had them set every 3 seats or so, and it's a cream pitcher on the top and a sugar bowl on the bottom! Coffee accessories never fail to delight me.

This cafe is famous because it houses a $20,000 coffee machine. I was way too intimidated by the trendy clientele and the ridiculous luxury of this thing to photograph it, so check out the NY Times article instead.

So look forward to more of the City! I'm there every Friday until May.

winter break shenanigans

by Stephanie

Confession: I used to absolutely hate macaroni and cheese. It sounds terrible, I know. There are lots more worthy things in the world to hate, but until about 4 years ago, I absolutely hated the almost-universally loved childhood classic, mac 'n cheese. My theory is that my former distate for it either has to do with (a) my phobia of creamy white substances (more on this later) or (b) my weird need to be differentiated from my brother's food palette.

Did any of you experience a similar tension in your household? My brother and I had this intense desire to be stark opposites: he was a white sauce, mac 'n cheese kind of kid, and I was the red sauce, spaghetti side of the spectrum. I would not touch his stuff, and he absolutely refused to go near anything that was red (this also excluded chili and all other tomato products in addition to spaghetti sauce). I think we lived a ridiculous childhood, and I'm sure my mother put up with a lot.

I had to preface this post with that background because the other night my brother and I were wandering around the kitchen, wondering what to do with our hungry stomachs, and I suggested making the very food I detested all throughout my younger years. "Steph, don't you hate that stuff?" questioned my brother. "Then again, I'm not going to argue." We searched around the fridge for some cheese to use, and then he remembered. Mom had just bought a giant brick of Dubliner cheese the other day...perfect! He cooked up the pasta; I thickened some milk and butter with a little flour, then melted cheese into the mixture, tossed it with fusilli and called it a night.


steph's mac 'n cheese
8 oz. macaroni (or similar pasta)
2 tbs butter
2 tbs flour
2 c milk
2 1/2-3 c shredded cheese (mix them if you've got multiple kinds!)

Cook pasta in well-salted boiling water. Melt butter in a medium saucepan, add milk and then flour, stir. Cook until slightly thickened and bubbly; add cheese and stir until melted. Add in cooked macaroni and toss to coat.

Other things I've been up to:

zebra cake!



Okay, this has nothing to do with food, but my family dog-sat for this adorable Cavalier King Charles Spaniel--his name is Basil.


How proud of me are you?! Two posts in a month?! Lisa's in Malaysia right now, but I'm sure there will be gads of fun photos and food tidbits to share when she returns.

frying everything

by Stephanie

Oh Lisa, your lovely writing always make me want to post. (And a sonnet?! Oh my gosh! Such untapped talent! Reader, you may be reading the work of a future Poet Laureate.) Yes, we will be joint posting soon. And yes, I also have food stories to tell (although admittedly less than Lisa because I don't have daily access to a kitchen this year).

Okay, so if you must know something about me, it's that I really like fried things. Can I emphasize this enough? Fried things are so good, so hot and crunchy and golden. I'm not sure where this affinity came from; I wouldn't say we ate a preponderance of fried things at home when I was little. That said, I've never been discouraged from eating lots of fried things (thanks for the everlasting search for the perfect fried chicken, Mom. I appreciate that a lot.) Sometimes it's hard being me in a health-crazed California. All the salad really gets to me sometimes.

Last night at my old apartment my friends Donna and Cindy decided to make samosas. They even made their own dough (courtesy of Manjula...you are awesome), and I was very proud. I didn't partake in the making of the little triangular pieces of goodness, but after dinner we were sitting around, eating cookies and I noticed that we had a lot of leftover oil from the samosas. What to do?

I decided in the spirit of my unabashed love for fried everything that we should fry the rest of the cookies. After I whipped up a quick batter, Donna also brought out all this candy she had been stashing, and so we fried that too. Basically, it was a mini-state fair in the Castle, and it was a very good night. Of particular note was the fried peanut butter cup...and the fried M&M's. Seriously!! Frying M&M's is such a joy. (A big plus is that some of the color starts to leak into the batter while coating them and then with the leftover batter you can make rainbow fritters/hush puppies! Am I obsessed?)


Fried things aren't particularly photogenic (probably the lack of color), but they are certainly tasty, especially with a scoop or two of vanilla ice cream. Moral of the story: don't be scared to fry things because otherwise you are just missing out on life. Moderation is key...every other day should do it. Kidding, maybe.

Fried dough batter*:
1 c. flour
2 tsp. baking powder
pinch of salt
1 egg
3/4 c. milk
oil for frying

Combine the dry ingredients in a large bowl. Combine the wet ingredients in a smaller bowl. Combine the milk mixture with the flour mixture and stir. Coat fryable items of your choosing (we used Sandies cookies, the shortbread with the chocolate in the middle and several kinds of chocolate candy. This gets as good as you want it to be.) Heat oil in a skillet on medium heat; you know it is ready for frying when little bubbles form around a wooden chopstick inserted in the middle of the pan (credit to Mom for that trick). Fry on one side until golden, then flip; drain on paper towels. Eat until your stomach threatens mutiny.

*funny thing about this recipe: I tried to research online for batter recipes, and Epicurious was giving me a lot of trouble (i.e. they do not approve of such things by the noticeable lack of recipes on this topic on their site.) So this is from Emeril...your television personality may be more than slightly annoying, but you are superior to Epicurious in my book right now!

**the photo is beyond craptastic, I know. I took it with my camera phone because I didn't have my digital camera on me, and I could not let this event of monumental historical significance pass undocumented. One day I will embrace the whole food photography movement but until then...go fry things!

contradictions

by Stephanie

I do not sit well with contradictions. What this means: I am one of those people who tends to make discrete categories. I am also one of those people who freaks out when things don't fit into my discrete categories. Honestly, if I'm going to the trouble of making discrete categories, you (insert element here) should fit! Because I am a thorough person, and the world should be nice and neat. (My room is not an excellent example of this principle.)

So since I've come into my own at Berkeley, I've definitely become more aware of my preferences regarding food, and they've definitely grown more upscale since high school. Some foodie interests include absolutely anything produced by Cheeseboard , Peet's coffee (Mocha Java, thank you Lisa), chic cupcakes from Love at First Bite. I disdain things like "secret sauce"; that stuff is usually trashy. What can I say; my palate is continually refined by the wonderous paradise that is Berkeley.

But this is the weird part; this is the part that creates unrest and tension within myself. Sometimes I have cravings for the most terrible things, awful non-ritzy things like Jack in the Box tacos, a bowl of Cheerios with whole milk, Planters cheez balls (apparently these things are discontinued...ugh). I feel as though these urges are so contrary to my passion for the gourmet, so I usually try to ignore them or satiate them quickly so I can continue on my way to food actualization. (I don't know if that is an actual state that one can reach, but I can hope.)

Two days ago, we had these for lunch at the house:


You know what you're looking at? Happy face fries. That's right; these things are the most processed potato product you can get. The exterior is hopelessly greasy and crispy; the inside warm and mealy. They really are your ideal fried potato product, but LOOK AT THEM! They're the most low-brow food item to ever exist. And somehow I enjoy them as much as my 70% Scharffen Berger chocolate bar. I try to make this work in my mind, but it doesn't. I think I'm learning to be okay with that because I might kill myself otherwise. Also, it's kind of fun and freeing to let contradictions be. It means that I am letting go and refusing to let my control impulses get the best of me.

stephanie attempts her first

by Stephanie

My first thought about creating a food blog is me, what, really? What kind of credibility can I lend to this piece of web space? My stats: cooking experience consists of two years of apartment living as a student, many of those pithy meals not motivated by any desire to create quality sustenance but rather to satisfy my stomach cheaply and quickly so I could go about studying/socializing/doing whatever students do with their abundant amounts of free time. Add to that several experiments with my mother's KitchenAid back home, and you've got the extent of my culinary knowledge. On one hand, I think I should quit now and save myself embarrassment/shame/my face on a global scale, since apparently these things can be read by literally anyone. On the other…I know food is an undeniable passion of mine. I've pored over all my mother's cookbooks, time and time again, marking up several of them with "recipe to try" post-it notes and gradually learning cooking techniques in the process. I've sat in front of the television, mesmerized by the latest Food Network host's advice on how to best chop an onion without crying. This past summer I discovered food blogs, and my life—what I do with the majority of my time on the internet, anyway—is irrevocably changed. I've read entries that make my foodie heart want to sing, so well do they speak to the very inners of what I crave in food and life—a twist to the familiar (a recent example was cookie baked on TOP of brownie...a crownie...glory), a resistance to modern compromise (margarine—NEVER a substitute to butter. Ever. Unless you're a vegan.) The lyrical writings I've encountered that have staying power in my mind so aptly describe the power food holds over our lives. I know that I really do care about food, and that should be enough. The rest will come. And so I embark on this road, safe in the knowledge that my friend Lisa can gently kick me (or just delete my entries) if my writing starts to meander or become incoherent. And I am so eager to contribute something to this world, something that is outside the realm of psychology grant proposals and public health policy briefs. So here I am, one half of the loveiscooking duo, expecting that I will gradually learn what it means for love and cooking to be equated, wildly excited at the possibilities that this newfound knowledge can generate.