Food and I are in the midst of working on our relationship. It has been contentious at times, but we seem to have come to an understanding (and I try not to play favorites with chocolate anymore). Given that we haven’t always been on the best of terms, I never really learned how to cook. Or rather, I never developed any interest whatsoever in cooking.

Sure, I did the Donna Reed thing a little bit when I was living with the ex (particularly when we had just moved, and I was not yet employed). I didn’t kill him with the food, so it wasn’t that big of a disaster. Technically, I can follow a recipe (though I burn things because I have a tendency to get bored and wander off). I’ve just never really found any joy in it.

I have friends who love cooking. They experiment. They create. They love to host and trade ideas. The closest I’ve ever come to trading cooking ideas was in Home Economics where I agreed to do all the cleaning up if Linda did all the actual cooking.

Once in a while, I get inspired. Either I’ve been at a dinner, discovered something wonderful and then wished to recreate it (has never successfully happened), or I convince myself that Farmers’ Markets will be cheaper and healthier (and I have an image of myself chopping things). This inspiration never lasts.

But you know what might get me there?  Money.

I was just reading the breakdown of a fantastic food blog that made about $7,000 in profit in July. I’ve been on the unemployed writer kick now for a little over two years, so when I saw that, I thought, “WHY??? WHY DOES IT HAVE TO BE FOOD????” And then I thought, “This is why there are so many pictures of food on Instagram.”

Not to be outdone, I bring to you my first food blog. I think the title should be something like “What Might Have Been.”  Why? Well, I’m not suddenly going to be a gourmet, and the world has other places to go to see photos of properly made food. So, instead, I bring you this:

 

Look at the way that shines in the light!

Now, you might look at the photo and see an empty bowl. That’s largely because it is an empty bowl. But a few short minutes ago, that bowl was filled with light, delicious scrambled eggs and a side of buttered wheat toast– that I didn’t make. Can’t you just smell those eggs and hear the crunch of that toast? Amazing stuff. Sure, I could have told you that the bowl had been filled with eggs benedict with home-style potatoes, but this is a Thursday morning in my world, and the only time that happens is when brunch and a pricey restaurant are involved. No, my food blog is going for authenticity.  So, just sit back and take in that empty bowl, and think happy breakfast thoughts. This is my gift to the food blog world.

I know. I know. You don’t have to thank me.