If you’re curious, I started this blog because I was posting pictures of everything I was cooking all over my other online platforms and I was getting a lot of requests for the recipes and being told that my Facebook in particular was making people super hungry, so I decided making a more organized platform, but one where I could post all my thoughts, not just about my food, would be cathartic. And Yummy.
For me, growing up, food was at the center of everything. All our traditions were centered around it, like a lot of families. When you became a woman you were brought more into the kitchen with the rest of the women and you were put in charge of dishes on your own for holidays, rather than just a ‘helper’.
We’re matriarchal in my family, to be clear, not delegated to the kitchen, we were rulers of it, and my earliest memories are of standing on a chair beside my mom and grandmother, stirring things on the stove, and feeling a sense of importance in the act. One of the most important things when I moved out of my mother’s house and into my own apartment was having a properly stocked kitchen of my own – to the point that I accidentally bought two peelers for some silly reason.
I lived in a tight knit family for a long time, and I wasn’t used to being alone so my first night on my own in my way too quiet apartment was rough. My boyfriend offered to stay but I was insistent that he go – and I set up my kitchen. Not the bedroom, which had a bed and that was enough – but the kitchen.
The Ink in the name of the blog comes from the fact that I’m an unpublished author. I was a storyteller to keep my sister entertained during her unfortunately frequent late-night bouts of illness and have been refining my skills for the rest of my life. Writing and cooking essentially make up two halves of my creative soul – though I have to say I recently got into Burlap wreathes and those are fan-TAS-tic.
My online profile is available here.