I thought I was done blogging. I thought I’d finally had enough of the self-imposed stress and enough standing on chairs, photographing my dinner. I’d thought I was ready put the project on the shelf for good.
The first couple of weeks were fun and it was certainly refreshing to cook without a notepad and a camera at my side. I drank wine while I made dinner and didn’t worry about low-lighting or measuring cups. I ate the same thing for days on end because, dang it, I felt like it and it wasn’t like I needed to come up with fresh content for a blog anymore.
But then it started making me feel kind of sad. And lonesome. I missed the game, missed putting a little piece of myself out in the world. So I’m taking it on again, with more of a relaxed approach. I’m not going to feel bad if I don’t post every week, if my pictures aren’t perfect, if I don’t blog my way out of my day job. I’m not going to worry that someone might not think something I post isn’t creative enough (who wants “creative” food all the time anyway?). I’m going to remember why I started a food blog in the first place: because I love to cook and eat and my home kitchen is one of my happiest places.
I feel like summer is almost here. And it’s not because my cherry tree is starting to blossom, it’s not because my skin tone has darkened slightly from “corpse-like” to merely “fair”, and it’s not because I took my first boat ride of the season; it’s because I churned my first batch of ice cream.
If I don’t post any new recipes here for a while, just assume it’s because I’m making and eating this flatbread for every meal.