If you've been reading this blog for a while (and who hasn't?) then it will probably surprise you to know that one of my big interests is nutrition. You may have guessed that I like to cook - you at least knew I like to eat.
I have a cookbook collection that must be up to about 100 volumes by now. Not to mention all my saved Cook's Illustrated magazines and the millions of pages torn out of my subscriptions to Cooking Light, Eating Well, and Food and Wine. But actually, I hardly ever follow a recipe. That's why it's hard for me when someone eyeballs my cookbooks and asks me which one I cook out of the most. They're mostly like food porn for me - I love to look through them and fantasize. I love nothing more than to get a bunch of ingredients, open a bottle of wine, and try making something. Cooking for me is my most creative release.
It was hard for me, then, to have the baby and lose that free time to just play around with making dinner. When making dinner was a chore rather than the highlight of my day, it really depressed me. It also depressed me that I was eating such a load of crap. All the processed convenience food nonsense that I normally wouldn't touch with a 10 foot pole became staples.
But you know what? That baby's getting big. Life is stabilizing - despite my fears that it would never happen, there's a sense of routine and normalcy around here. I hardly dare say it, lest it send life into a complete tailspin, but I think that maybe we have adjusted to having a kid and we can handle day to day life like real people again? I had to make that small so fate wouldn't be tempted.
Anyway, part of the "back to real life" plan is getting the ol' diet back on track. But since my exposition took so long, I'm going to go ahead and save the rest for another post. Merry Christmas, if I don't see you before then.