I love food.
I mean, I love it. I love shopping for it, looking at it, reading about it, watching shows about it… everything short of actually cooking it.
But naturally, what I love the most is eating it.
Living in a larger city and being married to a person who loves food as much as I do, I find a lot of opportunities to indulge. Anything that can be even vaguely described as a special occasion is usually celebrated with a ridiculously caloric feast–the day I got an agent, the day an editor liked my book, the day an editor bought my book–and of course, an artery-clogging series of celebrations to accompany the actual release.
Every couple of years, I start behaving and eating well for a while, and I know in my head that it really works–if you go three days without lollipops (yeah, I know, I’m four), or cookies, or whatever happens to be the sugar monkey on your back at that moment, you really do stop craving it.
But where’s the fun in that?
Every day is a battle between me and what’s in my refrigerator/pantry/the impulse aisle at the grocery store. It’s not really fair, actually–I eat when I’m bored and I eat when I’m stressed. I eat when I’m happy AND sad. I took the Dr. Phil test a few years ago and learned that the only emotion that didn’t prompt me to eat was anger, and then that put the idea in my head, so I’m pretty sure I have every emotion covered now.
It’s hard, especially in a city like LA, where everyone is tan and toned and wears tiny clothes. But I long ago came to peace with the idea that I don’t have to be the skinniest (or prettiest… or smartest…) girl in the room to enjoy myself.
I could give you a long, complicated story about how my family put a lot of emphasis on eating and the husb and I initially dealt with the stress of moving to Los Angeles by going out to dinner (escaping the ‘hood for those precious 60 minutes)… but I won’t. I mean, it’s not like I’d change either of those things, even if I could.
At the end of the day, I don’t think it’s out of hand, or something that deserves even half as much thought as I’ve already given it. Food can be amazing. It can comfort, entertain, inspire, and express. It can bring families closer together. It can celebrate, connect, and provide those little moments of sublime happiness.
G.K. Chesterton said, “We should thank God for beer and burgundy by not drinking too much of them.”
I think that could easily apply to the culinary realm.
My name is Katie.
And I love food.
PS – Hearty congratulations to the winner of my launch week contest, BETH O!
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