More Than You’ll Ever Need to Know About Me
My husband complains that since I started blogging, we have no more undocumented meals. This is me at my mother’s house on Thanksgiving. I arrived with a pie in either hand and my Sony Cybershot slung around my neck. Guess he’s right.
Sorry dear, as long as the lighting is good and the battery’s charged you’ll just have to keep your elbows off the table and chew with your mouth closed.
I’m a freelance independent writer who loves food, travel and theatre. I’m not, repeat not, a professional chef. While I’ve never been to culinary school or cooked in a professional kitchen, I survived a stint waiting on tables during my undergrad degree. Within a few months, that job gave me more anxiety dreams than four years’ worth of final exams. I now serve readers — virtually, at my own pace.
Other than a few stress-filled semesters as a waitress (the term we used back then), my culinary influences are my mother and Canadian Living. Fresh ingredients, well-balanced flavours and nothing too complex are the only things I look for in a recipe — those and an absence of visceral organs or beets. Of course, when it comes to baking the “nothing too complex” rule goes out the window. See my post of choux pastry swans for proof.
When I’m not blogging, my writing appears in various regional, national and online publications. An extensive portfolio languishes on my website but in a nutshell, I’ve had an eclectic career so far. I’ve written about fruit wines and gourmet jams for Edible Toronto, waxed poetic about cookie baking and corn-on-the-cob for The Globe and Mail, made some uncomfortable confessions in More Canada, dished the dirt at Canadian Gardening and interviewed Olivia Newton John. While my posts occasionally make Reuters UK Lifestyle News, I have yet to achieve fame and fortune.
If you read through the archives, you’ll know I have a sweet tooth, a passion for chocolate, coffee, coconut milk, cilantro and ice cream. Perhaps my initials prompted me to gravitate towards words that begin with C?
I could go on, but you’ll have to excuse me. I think I smell something burning…