Hey. So yeah, this is a new blog. Excitement, right?
Not going to lie, this is not my first blog, but this is definitely my first guided/”themed” blog. So I guess I’ll explain how and what and why… (and yes, this is long, but even more than a person who likes to make food, I like to write. So deal 🙂 )
About 10 years ago, I could not cook. I would question my family about how to boil water correctly. I set a bag of microwavable popcorn on fire. Okay, so maybe we can blame it on being a teenager. However, considering my mom was an awesome cook, my brother is a pastry chef, my grandmother worked at a restaurant into her 80s, and I have another family member who works in a bakery, you would think that the genes would have rubbed off on me a bit.
I grew up in a large family, so perhaps it was the quantity of food that intimidated me. My grandmother or brother would often help my mom, but more often than not, she would do it all herself. I kick myself now for not helping her, but I also felt overwhelmed with her incredible talents. Eventually from watching her, I started to experiment, and am proud to say that by the time I graduated high school, I was able to make hot dogs and ramen, and order pizza.
Both my parents were glad I chose a college where I lived in a dorm and had a meal plan. A lot of people complain about school caf food, but this stuff was actually good! It still wasn’t mom’s, though, and I grew more appreciative of both her and her cooking each time I’d go home.
In college, I was now helping my mom in the kitchen. I’m sure there is a technical word for it, maybe a prep cook or something? “Cut this onion!” “Can you brown this hamburger for me?” “Hey, watch the oven for me.” By this time, my repertoire included such favourites as Hamburger Helper, grilled cheese, and fries in the oven.
My mom died my sophomore year of college. After eating a lot of fast food, pizza, and other people’s food after her death (and not having as many family members in the house anymore), I realized that I was sort of fucked. I mean, it’s wild what you are thinking in the midst of tragedy–“What am I going to have for dinner?” My house was one of those old school sort of homes–Mom did the cooking, Dad sat on his ass. So on top of the gazillions of emotions I was feeling, I felt bad because my mom made him these huge elaborate meals; my dad is definitely a meat and potatoes sort of fellow. In my mind, I mentally counted down the days til going back on campus when I could have something that didn’t come out of a box, bag, or other person’s fridge. Three months until school. I could handle that.
Being the baby, everyone had already moved out of the house, so this was all me. I could do it. My dad would hand me some money and tell me to buy food. “No problem,” I thought to myself. I bought a lot of coffee, cereal, and peanut butter–those are things that my dad likes and could eat if dinner sucks. Canned spaghetti sauce and pasta… Toss in pots, voila. Frozen meals… I can do that. Just follow directions. Sometimes I would take him on my shopping trips, and lead him up and down the aisles. If something piqued his interest and if I thought I could pull it off, I’d buy it. If I didn’t know how to do something, I’d ask a relative or use my friend Google.
Necessity truly is the mother of invention.
5 years after holding an egg and asking it “How do I make you hard-boiled?”, I consider cooking a hobby. I fuck up a lot, but I make some really good food, too. I still look for ideas on the internet, but more and more I’m becoming “Oh, hmmm, well these two things taste good, so I wonder what it will taste like if I combine them.”
And yes, it was in a moment of munching on chocolate covered bacon that I decided on creating this blog.
If you are looking for exact recipes, you probably won’t find them on here. If you are looking for ideas, you just might find them. I’m not going to lie, I’m a bit lazy, so you really think I’m going to whip out measuring spoons and measure out 1/2 tsp. of salt in my boiling water for pasta? Hell no! I mean, sometimes it’s necessary (for baking crap, apparently… I don’t know, I let my brother do that sort of shit), but can we think a little out of the box and just try? I use recipes for guidelines. I like garlic, so I’m not going to limit my creation to a dash of garlic, you recipe-nazis.
So if you haven’t realized this, the name Ambiguous Foodie was made up on the spot to describe my pseudo-fusion cooking, my hesitation between gourmet and fast food fan, and my attitude of “Recipes? What we’re cooking, we don’t need recipes.”